Gus
Justice RIDES AGAIN!!!
[QUOTE="Teh Frixz]Waiting on bag of fruit so I can do a tabby post.
[/QUOTE]
He is supposed to be working on one. I will remind him...
[/QUOTE]
He is supposed to be working on one. I will remind him...
OOC Discussion
- Thread starter welian
- Start date
Gus
Justice RIDES AGAIN!!!
Feeling bad about spraying students with the hose now.
The weird part is that I was consciously being mean, but TOTALLY forgot that it is January in game. It has been so hot this week…
The really weird part is that I didn't forget when writing Aaron, but totally forgot when writing Katherine. How D.I.D. is that?!
Unrelated: Was there a promise of a third CCP for everybody if we met our posting goal before the timeskip? Or did I hallucinate that?
I know we have earned one, and are very close to a second one, but I could have sworn @welian promised a third point, except I can't for the life of me find that part of the OOC thread now. The reason I was wondering is because I was skimming old OOC posts while I wait for new content to be served up, and I re-read Danny's origin on page 166. Subsequently, I read his sad post about never having enough points to make Vape.
A third point would give @Captain Hesperus 5 points though, which would be enough for an A level. Which would be super cool.
The weird part is that I was consciously being mean, but TOTALLY forgot that it is January in game. It has been so hot this week…
The really weird part is that I didn't forget when writing Aaron, but totally forgot when writing Katherine. How D.I.D. is that?!
Unrelated: Was there a promise of a third CCP for everybody if we met our posting goal before the timeskip? Or did I hallucinate that?
I know we have earned one, and are very close to a second one, but I could have sworn @welian promised a third point, except I can't for the life of me find that part of the OOC thread now. The reason I was wondering is because I was skimming old OOC posts while I wait for new content to be served up, and I re-read Danny's origin on page 166. Subsequently, I read his sad post about never having enough points to make Vape.
A third point would give @Captain Hesperus 5 points though, which would be enough for an A level. Which would be super cool.
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welian
#BlackLivesMatter
There is not going to be a third CCP. Everyone earns one for meeting the 125 post mark in each thread, and everyone earns an extra one if we get through the timeskip in a timely fashion.
Lemon Boy
~Brilliantly Bitter~
ALRIGHTLY, SO I AM NOT BUSY TODAY.
Have already started writing up Kyle's post, It's nearly done, but Omfg, Miss Huang is in for a reckoning.
Have already started writing up Kyle's post, It's nearly done, but Omfg, Miss Huang is in for a reckoning.
Captain Hesperus
Harbinger of the End Times and Apostle of Ghan
An open letter to Katherine Huang:
The Freaks are Danny's Freaks. Danny will abuse and demean them, not you.
Signed Danny Travis.
Captain Hesperus
The Freaks are Danny's Freaks. Danny will abuse and demean them, not you.
Signed Danny Travis.
Captain Hesperus
Gus
Justice RIDES AGAIN!!!
I had to read that several times to wrap my tired old brain around it.welian said:
To clarify, we get one CCP for completing 125 posts twice, and then one more for the time skip?
I had been under the impression that we got one for main thread and one for IC2 separately. I think that was the source of my confusion.
Any further thoughts on CCPs for writing prompts? Maybe for total word count or somethings?
Captain Hesperus
Harbinger of the End Times and Apostle of Ghan
This would make me more likely to do writing prompts.Gus said:
Captain Hesperus
welian
#BlackLivesMatter
Every roleplayer who contributed to a thread getting to 125 posts gets a CCP point. This is on a per-player basis, as to avoid favoring people who already have multiple characters. I want to encourage people to progress the story, but not at the expense of making less active roleplayers feel punished or left behind.
The second CCP is just a carrot on a stick.
The second CCP is just a carrot on a stick.
Teh Frixz
That lady robot
I wish I even knew where the prompts were lol
Necessity4Fun
I'll keep trying, even if I'm not good enough...
Teh Frixz]I wish I even knew where the prompts were lol [/QUOTE] HERE!! [URL="http://Aegisroleplay.wordpress.com said:
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Gus
Justice RIDES AGAIN!!!
Is there a new prompt for today?
welian
#BlackLivesMatter
There is not, my buffer ran out.Gus said:
EDIT: I should clarify. I draft writing prompts in a big batch, and schedule the posts to go live somewhere between 6am and noon EST on Wordpress. A bot takes this post and cross-posts it to Tumblr, so that both the Wordpress and Tumblr followers see the weekly writing prompt. Because I had been very busy with my accelerated summer course (16 weeks of software design fundamentals crammed into 8 weeks), plus a family reunion and several events (both my sister and her daughter have their birthdays in July), I at no point actually made time to sit down and replenish my buffer - there was just too much going on! So, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to go pick a writing prompt and put it in the update thread.
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welian
#BlackLivesMatter
I posted a new prompt in the Update thread. You may now blow up my alerts.
Teh Frixz
That lady robot
Zombies and Zdunowski's
In an age of darkness. At a time of evil. When the world needed a hero. What it got was her.
Riley never had a car before. Not one of her own of course but those were usually stolen, no this. This was her first car. She paid three hundred dollars for it at a police auction and she loved it even though most people didn't. A pale green Oldsmobile Aero that just barely ran. It was just what she wanted and she babied the thing.
Turning the oversized wheel and rolling into the 108 parking lot, Riley grabs her bag and steps out of the car into the lot. If one saw her, they'd expect it to be a 'casual' day at work. Her security uniform consisted of the big ass long sleeved shirt they'd given her with the sleeves rolled way up. A pair of jeans, unwashed but comfortable and they hugged just right and a pair of stars and stripes flats. At least she pinned her ID badge on today but let it be said, she was terrible with uniformity. At least nobody seemed to care anymore.
Half walking and half skipping, she unlocks the door and heads right into her desk/office. Lights flipped on, coffee machine setup for those weak people that couldn't make their own caffeine and her little tablet/laptop thingy already logging into webflix and bam. She was set.
Hours pass, nothing of note happening until around noon. Riley just returning from the bathroom noticing what looked like a bag lady shuffling in. The big 108 wasn't in the best part of town and sometimes homeless people would wander in looking for handouts or something. Usually Riley would get them something from the vending machine and boot them out but something was off. A few AEGIS personnel watching from the side was more than enough to let her know to be nice but firm.
"Excuse me ma'am. This is a restricted area and-"
"FOOLS!" The heavens seemed to suddenly open up, the glass ceiling above shattering and the skies rapidly darkening. The bag ladies hood fall back to reveal her half rotted face and insanely white milky eyes. She spoke up again, the winds from above now buffeting Riley. The woman's voice layered with hundreds of other voices. "PATHETIC FOOLS! THE DEAD WALK AGAIN! COMETH NOW THE TIMES OF WOE! WE ARE THE THINGS THAT WERE AND SHALL BE AGAIN! WE'LL SWALLOW YOUR SOULLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLS"
Riley, having been blown back by the wind and bumping her head comically against the desk sits up. Her timer makes a slight ticking sound as she sets it for thirty....no forty five minutes. As requested, her inhibitor makes a dinging sound as it deactivates, drawing the attention of she bitch.
"DEAD BY DUSK DEAD BY DUSK!"
As the first euphoric wave hit Riley, followed shortly by the feeling of indescribable anger all she could manage was
"Yer going down"
Both women roar, charging at each other. Expecting something solid, Riley's blood surged with amphetamine as she sprinted. The other body, to Riley's surprise was merely the corpse of an old woman. Her own force carries both of them back through the glass and onto the street. The old womans body nearly cracked in half but still moving. Blood began flowing from the multitude of cuts that Riley suffered from the glass only to be staunched just as the old woman began laughing again.
"DEAD BY DUSK DEAD BY DUSK!" Riley shakes her head as if to laugh but then looks up. Hundreds, if not thousands more of the same sort of half rotten dead were lurching up towards her. Staggered by the sight she gasps. Interspaced through the dark army were the recently dead too, skeletal hipsters clinging to old latte cups, yoga pant clad wearing banshees, a whole squadron of fat indeterminate gendered zombies wearing buttons proclaiming 'die cis die'. All at once the crowd seems to focus on Riley.
"DEAD BY DUSK! DEAAAD BY DUSK!"
Well fuck that.
Crashing back in through the glass beside the one she just went through. Riley tumbles and hurries towards the alert system. Yanking the glass off the big red button, she pushes it over and over with a soft voice chiming. "You've activated the AEGIS 108 Emergency alert button. Press again to confirm. Press twice to reset." Riley throws her hands up, hitting it faster and harder until it spoke again. "You've activated the AEGIS 108 minimum security Emergency alert procedure. Thank you" Alarms and horns blare, a siren goes off and red emergency lights go on. Somewhere above, pressurized locks release and Riley looks over to see a small chain link gate roll down over the door, leaving the windows conspicuously open. To the benefit of the genius that designed it, it did stop the horde for a moment. Each of the undead halted, looking over at the small and then at Riley before continuing their advance.
It was now Riley saw the children, all behind the double doors to the main lobby. They were screaming and drawing the attention of some of the horde. Looks like it was up to her. Her body shakes once, impacted by a surge of chemicals that were undoubtedly illegal. Grabbing the leg of her desk, she snaps the leg clean off and hops up on the counter.
"All right you decrepit freaks...let's groove"
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hours passed, time marching ever onward. With half her hair torn out, a hand conspicuously missing but a chunk of rebar shoved into the wound making up for it, and her awesome jeans completely blown out, Riley grabbed the last of the dead looking people by the throat. Her eyes were wild, fully dilated and swirling with enough chemical compounds to be registered as a WMD, she hoists up the robe clad teen. His face painted up like a skull and crying as she smashes the skull of a zombie clambering up her leg. Her sperry ripping in the process.
"Well....hello Mr. Fancy pants....nice robe." She shakes the teen a few times, his whole body wobbling as he tries to compose himself.
"Ppplease. I'm a super, I lead the armies of the Dead, they must feed on SOULS or I'll perish along with them. " Riley spits out a tooth, rubbing the empty spot with her tongue before speaking. "Well I got news for you, you are leading Jack and Shit. And Jack just left town."
"Wh...what?" The teen questions what he was hearing. "Who...what are you?"
Riley throws him down atop the pile of bodies she made on her way to him. "I'm Riley Zdunowski. Aegis Security." Yanking the rebar out she spears him through the shoulder and into the concrete beneath. "And I'm clocking out"
Thousands of officers arrived quickly on scene, securing any lingering dead and quickly subduing the necro-teen. Riley, staggering off makes it back inside, punching out just as her shift ended. The officers cheered, the staff cheered, the little screaming children cheered. It seemed for just today, you didn't need a blue card to be a Hero....
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
"And so that's how it all happened..."
Riley leaning forward in her desk waves goodbye to a student leaving before turning her eyes back on the AEGIS staff auditor in front of her. The man stops writing, clicking his pen before clearing his throat.
"That's the whole story?"
Riley looks insulted. "Of course, why else would you be here?" The auditor looks at her intact hand and body.
"How do you still have a hand then and why wasn't this on the news?"
Her mouth hangs open before her brow furrows. "Alright maybe it isn't exactly 100% how it happened but it happened for sur-"
She's interrupted by the doors blowing open in front of them, an old woman gliding in as storms kick up around her! "DEAD BY DUSK DEAD BY DUSK!!"
An inhibitor dings and a table leg snaps.
Riley never had a car before. Not one of her own of course but those were usually stolen, no this. This was her first car. She paid three hundred dollars for it at a police auction and she loved it even though most people didn't. A pale green Oldsmobile Aero that just barely ran. It was just what she wanted and she babied the thing.
Turning the oversized wheel and rolling into the 108 parking lot, Riley grabs her bag and steps out of the car into the lot. If one saw her, they'd expect it to be a 'casual' day at work. Her security uniform consisted of the big ass long sleeved shirt they'd given her with the sleeves rolled way up. A pair of jeans, unwashed but comfortable and they hugged just right and a pair of stars and stripes flats. At least she pinned her ID badge on today but let it be said, she was terrible with uniformity. At least nobody seemed to care anymore.
Half walking and half skipping, she unlocks the door and heads right into her desk/office. Lights flipped on, coffee machine setup for those weak people that couldn't make their own caffeine and her little tablet/laptop thingy already logging into webflix and bam. She was set.
Hours pass, nothing of note happening until around noon. Riley just returning from the bathroom noticing what looked like a bag lady shuffling in. The big 108 wasn't in the best part of town and sometimes homeless people would wander in looking for handouts or something. Usually Riley would get them something from the vending machine and boot them out but something was off. A few AEGIS personnel watching from the side was more than enough to let her know to be nice but firm.
"Excuse me ma'am. This is a restricted area and-"
"FOOLS!" The heavens seemed to suddenly open up, the glass ceiling above shattering and the skies rapidly darkening. The bag ladies hood fall back to reveal her half rotted face and insanely white milky eyes. She spoke up again, the winds from above now buffeting Riley. The woman's voice layered with hundreds of other voices. "PATHETIC FOOLS! THE DEAD WALK AGAIN! COMETH NOW THE TIMES OF WOE! WE ARE THE THINGS THAT WERE AND SHALL BE AGAIN! WE'LL SWALLOW YOUR SOULLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLS"
Riley, having been blown back by the wind and bumping her head comically against the desk sits up. Her timer makes a slight ticking sound as she sets it for thirty....no forty five minutes. As requested, her inhibitor makes a dinging sound as it deactivates, drawing the attention of she bitch.
"DEAD BY DUSK DEAD BY DUSK!"
As the first euphoric wave hit Riley, followed shortly by the feeling of indescribable anger all she could manage was
"Yer going down"
Both women roar, charging at each other. Expecting something solid, Riley's blood surged with amphetamine as she sprinted. The other body, to Riley's surprise was merely the corpse of an old woman. Her own force carries both of them back through the glass and onto the street. The old womans body nearly cracked in half but still moving. Blood began flowing from the multitude of cuts that Riley suffered from the glass only to be staunched just as the old woman began laughing again.
"DEAD BY DUSK DEAD BY DUSK!" Riley shakes her head as if to laugh but then looks up. Hundreds, if not thousands more of the same sort of half rotten dead were lurching up towards her. Staggered by the sight she gasps. Interspaced through the dark army were the recently dead too, skeletal hipsters clinging to old latte cups, yoga pant clad wearing banshees, a whole squadron of fat indeterminate gendered zombies wearing buttons proclaiming 'die cis die'. All at once the crowd seems to focus on Riley.
"DEAD BY DUSK! DEAAAD BY DUSK!"
Well fuck that.
Crashing back in through the glass beside the one she just went through. Riley tumbles and hurries towards the alert system. Yanking the glass off the big red button, she pushes it over and over with a soft voice chiming. "You've activated the AEGIS 108 Emergency alert button. Press again to confirm. Press twice to reset." Riley throws her hands up, hitting it faster and harder until it spoke again. "You've activated the AEGIS 108 minimum security Emergency alert procedure. Thank you" Alarms and horns blare, a siren goes off and red emergency lights go on. Somewhere above, pressurized locks release and Riley looks over to see a small chain link gate roll down over the door, leaving the windows conspicuously open. To the benefit of the genius that designed it, it did stop the horde for a moment. Each of the undead halted, looking over at the small and then at Riley before continuing their advance.
It was now Riley saw the children, all behind the double doors to the main lobby. They were screaming and drawing the attention of some of the horde. Looks like it was up to her. Her body shakes once, impacted by a surge of chemicals that were undoubtedly illegal. Grabbing the leg of her desk, she snaps the leg clean off and hops up on the counter.
"All right you decrepit freaks...let's groove"
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hours passed, time marching ever onward. With half her hair torn out, a hand conspicuously missing but a chunk of rebar shoved into the wound making up for it, and her awesome jeans completely blown out, Riley grabbed the last of the dead looking people by the throat. Her eyes were wild, fully dilated and swirling with enough chemical compounds to be registered as a WMD, she hoists up the robe clad teen. His face painted up like a skull and crying as she smashes the skull of a zombie clambering up her leg. Her sperry ripping in the process.
"Well....hello Mr. Fancy pants....nice robe." She shakes the teen a few times, his whole body wobbling as he tries to compose himself.
"Ppplease. I'm a super, I lead the armies of the Dead, they must feed on SOULS or I'll perish along with them. " Riley spits out a tooth, rubbing the empty spot with her tongue before speaking. "Well I got news for you, you are leading Jack and Shit. And Jack just left town."
"Wh...what?" The teen questions what he was hearing. "Who...what are you?"
Riley throws him down atop the pile of bodies she made on her way to him. "I'm Riley Zdunowski. Aegis Security." Yanking the rebar out she spears him through the shoulder and into the concrete beneath. "And I'm clocking out"
Thousands of officers arrived quickly on scene, securing any lingering dead and quickly subduing the necro-teen. Riley, staggering off makes it back inside, punching out just as her shift ended. The officers cheered, the staff cheered, the little screaming children cheered. It seemed for just today, you didn't need a blue card to be a Hero....
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
"And so that's how it all happened..."
Riley leaning forward in her desk waves goodbye to a student leaving before turning her eyes back on the AEGIS staff auditor in front of her. The man stops writing, clicking his pen before clearing his throat.
"That's the whole story?"
Riley looks insulted. "Of course, why else would you be here?" The auditor looks at her intact hand and body.
"How do you still have a hand then and why wasn't this on the news?"
Her mouth hangs open before her brow furrows. "Alright maybe it isn't exactly 100% how it happened but it happened for sur-"
She's interrupted by the doors blowing open in front of them, an old woman gliding in as storms kick up around her! "DEAD BY DUSK DEAD BY DUSK!!"
An inhibitor dings and a table leg snaps.
Gus
Justice RIDES AGAIN!!!
Less than two hours it takes Frixz to blow through a zombie horde. Nice words per minute.
Makes me want to look up "typing of the dead" to see if it is on steam...
Makes me want to look up "typing of the dead" to see if it is on steam...
Teh Frixz
That lady robot
Well, it was mostly a stolen joke
Gus
Justice RIDES AGAIN!!!
Groovy
Gus
Justice RIDES AGAIN!!!
@welian
Not to sound like a point wheedling RP whore, but have you given any more thought to the CCPs for prompt writing?
Truly, I am not asking for myself, because I don't have any current use for extra CCPs.
I am actually asking because Cap H. came right out and said he would do more prompts if that were the case. I, for one, would like to read more prompts generally, but my favorite so far was Danny, day 1. Also, I would like to see his CS for Vape in our character files next month, because that little teaser cameo was pretty cool. Two birds one stone!
Also it would be fun to see Indigo go nuts trying to earn enough CCPs to put all her ideas into the RP until it explodes.
For reference, I checked my total word count for prompts and it is just 7000 and change. (and most of the change actually includes the TV Tropes exercise which I don't think counts.) That is effectively 9 posts, since I did "day one" twice and "eriseD" 4 times. I only did two of those nine posts on time however--before the following weeks post went up.
So, just as a suggestion, what about 10,000 words or 5 on time submissions of at least 1000 words, whichever comes first?
An additional thought: are there other incentives that would motivate people to write more prompts? Because I truly enjoyed all the origin stories, and want more. Wishing there were more fever dreams, island cast aways, and heart's desire posts to explore. Non-canonical character tinkering is fun stuff! I want to see more of that. What would it take to draw that out of you? How best to infect you with my obsession?
Help me, help you!
Not to sound like a point wheedling RP whore, but have you given any more thought to the CCPs for prompt writing?
Truly, I am not asking for myself, because I don't have any current use for extra CCPs.
I am actually asking because Cap H. came right out and said he would do more prompts if that were the case. I, for one, would like to read more prompts generally, but my favorite so far was Danny, day 1. Also, I would like to see his CS for Vape in our character files next month, because that little teaser cameo was pretty cool. Two birds one stone!
Also it would be fun to see Indigo go nuts trying to earn enough CCPs to put all her ideas into the RP until it explodes.
For reference, I checked my total word count for prompts and it is just 7000 and change. (and most of the change actually includes the TV Tropes exercise which I don't think counts.) That is effectively 9 posts, since I did "day one" twice and "eriseD" 4 times. I only did two of those nine posts on time however--before the following weeks post went up.
So, just as a suggestion, what about 10,000 words or 5 on time submissions of at least 1000 words, whichever comes first?
An additional thought: are there other incentives that would motivate people to write more prompts? Because I truly enjoyed all the origin stories, and want more. Wishing there were more fever dreams, island cast aways, and heart's desire posts to explore. Non-canonical character tinkering is fun stuff! I want to see more of that. What would it take to draw that out of you? How best to infect you with my obsession?
Help me, help you!
Teh Frixz
That lady robot
I support this. Prompt for points schemes
Necessity4Fun
I'll keep trying, even if I'm not good enough...
I said this on Skype but, I'll repeat it and also give an update to people:
I intend to give EVERY prompt a go, just like, someday, no matter how late, sooner or later~
But I'm in a situation right now that does not give me enough freedom, or silence or 'me time' to actually sit and write properly.
There are money issues, I'm stuck back at my parents house (It's been almost two weeks) without an actual date to return, half of my things are back in the apartment, my family has a different schedule and different habits than me, they sleep super freaking early like, midnight or less and this place with it's noisy people makes me depressed and bored and frustrated and powerless and lots of other confusing emotions...I don't want to be here, yet I have no say in the matter. (I can't even buy things I want in the market at will anymore!)
Me and my friend even nicknamed my little brother "Megaphone" because he's always on Skype calls being so loud I can still hear him even though he is in the bedroom WITH THE DAMN DOOR CLOSED xD (I'm very far from him, in the living room)
So yeah, I don't think you can help me, unless you take me from here >.<
Also, I don't want to write just for writing. THAT'S BORING!
I want to feel the inspiration come and take me out of sleep and skip a night if needed, and I want to have fun with it and take my time and IDK put more headcanons into it, WHY NOT? OWO
I do have ideas, I do write them out in topics, I just can't seem to focus to write 'em properly >.<
Today, I opened a WIP drawing, stared at it for 10 minutes and closed it again. This is how motivated I've been lately QAQ
I'll let you guys know when I can finally go back home, but for now, there's not much I can do...
When I DO GET BACK THO, be ready for writing~
You've seen my prompts, you know how much I tend to write
PS: I got REALLY stuck at the def of a Fever Dream last time, that's why everything got so messy and late >.<
I want to do them in order
thanks for reading this bible *bows down*
I intend to give EVERY prompt a go, just like, someday, no matter how late, sooner or later~
But I'm in a situation right now that does not give me enough freedom, or silence or 'me time' to actually sit and write properly.
There are money issues, I'm stuck back at my parents house (It's been almost two weeks) without an actual date to return, half of my things are back in the apartment, my family has a different schedule and different habits than me, they sleep super freaking early like, midnight or less and this place with it's noisy people makes me depressed and bored and frustrated and powerless and lots of other confusing emotions...I don't want to be here, yet I have no say in the matter. (I can't even buy things I want in the market at will anymore!)
Me and my friend even nicknamed my little brother "Megaphone" because he's always on Skype calls being so loud I can still hear him even though he is in the bedroom WITH THE DAMN DOOR CLOSED xD (I'm very far from him, in the living room)
So yeah, I don't think you can help me, unless you take me from here >.<
Also, I don't want to write just for writing. THAT'S BORING!
I want to feel the inspiration come and take me out of sleep and skip a night if needed, and I want to have fun with it and take my time and IDK put more headcanons into it, WHY NOT? OWO
I do have ideas, I do write them out in topics, I just can't seem to focus to write 'em properly >.<
Today, I opened a WIP drawing, stared at it for 10 minutes and closed it again. This is how motivated I've been lately QAQ
I'll let you guys know when I can finally go back home, but for now, there's not much I can do...
When I DO GET BACK THO, be ready for writing~
You've seen my prompts, you know how much I tend to write
PS: I got REALLY stuck at the def of a Fever Dream last time, that's why everything got so messy and late >.<
I want to do them in order
thanks for reading this bible *bows down*
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Gus
Justice RIDES AGAIN!!!
Aw, Nessy, I am so sorry to hear that. I can't do anything about the home situation, but I CAN give feedback, if you think a sounding board would help. (I know it helps me to bounce ideas off of Sam…)Necessity4Fun said:I said this on Skype but, I'll repeat it and also give an update to people:
I intend to give EVERY prompt a go, just like, someday, no matter how late, sooner or later~
But I'm in a situation right now that does not give me enough freedom, or silence or 'me time' to actually sit and write properly.
There are money issues, I'm stuck back at my parents house (It's been almost two weeks) without an actual date to return, half of my things are back in the apartment, my family has a different schedule and different habits than me, they sleep super freaking early like, midnight or less and this place with it's noisy people makes me depressed and bored and frustrated and powerless and lots of other confusing emotions...I don't want to be here, yet I have no say in the matter. (I can't even buy things I want in the market at will anymore!)
Me and my friend even nicknamed my little brother "Megaphone" because he's always on Skype calls being so loud I can still hear him even though he is in the bedroom WITH THE DAMN DOOR CLOSED xD (I'm very far from him, in the living room)
So yeah, I don't think you can help me, unless you take me from here >.<
Also, I don't want to write just for writing. THAT'S BORING!
I want to feel the inspiration come and take me out of sleep and skip a night if needed, and I want to have fun with it and take my time and IDK put more headcanons into it, WHY NOT? OWO
I do have ideas, I do write them out in topics, I just can't seem to focus to write 'em properly >.<
Today, I opened a WIP drawing, stared at it for 10 minutes and closed it again. This is how motivated I've been lately QAQ
I'll let you guys know when I can finally go back home, but for now, there's not much I can do...
When I DO GET BACK THO, be ready for writing~
You've seen my prompts, you know how much I tend to write
PS: I got REALLY stuck at the def of a Fever Dream last time, that's why everything got so messy and late >.<
I want to do them in order
thanks for reading this bible *bows down*
If you get stuck and want a nudge, shoot me a PM. Happy to give suggestions anytime!
-K
Necessity4Fun
I'll keep trying, even if I'm not good enough...
Well, all I have are throw up ideas of how things would progress, you know how you do a story board before an animation? It's kinda like that, but in topics, in my head OWOGus said:
However, I would be really glad if you could help me come up with any ideas for Cecilia's Fever Dream, because all my options till now are either extremely boring or too similar to the idea I have for Kendrick's to make me pleased with it :33 (Not similar as in what happens, but similar in the ways it happens)
Also, even if it's just some mild brainstorming, I'd appreciate an activity to get me out of boredom
(other than this flash game of shooting birds or youtube. I feel so unproductive xD )
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Gus
Justice RIDES AGAIN!!!
<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_07/57a8cc48a80c7_megatyphon.jpg.45b7d14f860a9c9fcdca8a1e6a9765b7.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="146587" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_07/57a8cc48a80c7_megatyphon.jpg.45b7d14f860a9c9fcdca8a1e6a9765b7.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>Necessity4Fun said:Well, all I have are throw up ideas of how things would progress, you know how you do a story board before an animation? It's kinda like that, but in topics, in my head OWO
However, I would be really glad if you could help me come up with any ideas for Cecilia's Fever Dream, because all my options till now are either extremely boring or too similar to the idea I have for Kendrick's to make me pleased with it :33 (Not similar as in what happens, but similar in the ways it happens)
Also, even if it's just some mild brainstorming, I'd appreciate an activity to get me out of boredom
Here is my suggestion: Start with imagining a visit to the ISS. Imagine looking down and seeing that. Imagine reaching down with your mind to touch it. Feel the power of it, swirling around you and through you. Imagine the vast destructive potential. Imagine yourself pushing it until it engulfs the entire planet. Wake up in cold sweat.
Fill in the details.
Edit: No wonder her power terrifies her!
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Necessity4Fun
I'll keep trying, even if I'm not good enough...
GIVE THAT MAN ALL THE FUCKING HYPE COOKIES ON THE UNIVERSE! OWOGus said:View attachment 324596
Here is my suggestion: Start with imagining a visit to the ISS. Imagine looking down and seeing that. Imagine reaching down with your mind to touch it. Feel the power of it, swirling around you and through you. Imagine the vast destructive potential. Imagine yourself pushing it until it engulfs the entire planet. Wake up in cold sweat.
Fill in the details.
Edit: No wonder her power terrifies her!
YOU SIR ARE A GENIUS
3 ^^b*writes this down on Evernote*
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Gus
Justice RIDES AGAIN!!!
Okeedokee… Um. Trigger warnings for blood and gross zombie stuff, and also um. Bleak outlook.
And goddmodding on pretty much the grandest scale possible.
And bunnying, because this needed a supporting cast, and not just a 'solo' performance.
And goddmodding on pretty much the grandest scale possible.
And bunnying, because this needed a supporting cast, and not just a 'solo' performance.
The apocalypse began simply enough. It began with a single, tragic, suicide.
One of AEGIS's dirty little secrets was that after the mandatory education phase was done with, there simply was not nearly enough funding to continue to track all the D levels, or even the C levels really. If they were not fundamentally dangerous to society in some obvious way, they were pretty much left alone, and left to their own devices. The fact that they might be a danger to themselves, or a danger to society in some inobvious way, was just an unpleasant fact of life that the agency had collectively adjusted itself to living with.
Sadly for the world, it was a fact that Vester Dodweald could not live with. Commonwealth had ranked him D, and slapped the label of Temporary Necroempathetic Psychic Disorder on what he could do, and called it a day. What he could do was rather curious. He could tell when a living mind died. He could just... feel it. Not the moment of cardiac arrest, but the moment of actual brain death. Any death, of any cause. Within an estimated radius of 100 miles. (It was actually about five times that far, but the techs lost interest halfway through his testing, and half assed their statistical model.) He felt an instantaneous pang of fear and pain, coupled with a strong sense of emotional loss, as if the deceased were a close family member or pet. Unfortunately, the pang was entirely non-specific. It gave no indication as to distance or direction, no information about cause of death or even the species that had died. Nothing with any potential use for a blue card whatsoever. So they shipped him off to 108 and walked him through the required classes. Nobody had anything useful to teach him. Nobody could make the pain less. Nobody really even tried to except for McNabb, and whatever it was he had done, or tried to do, it didn't work. If anything, Vester left 108 even worse off than before. He was given no counseling, no medications, no parting advice. He couldn't hold a job because everybody who hired him thought he was 'too damn twitchy' and pretty quickly found an excuse to let him go. The American's with Disabilities Act would have protected him, if anybody had thought to tell him his rights, but nobody did. Just another so-called super who fell through the cracks of a system geared toward world ending threats. One summer afternoon, about six weeks after 'graduating' from 108, he walked into a Walmart, overpowered a clerk in sporting goods, and stole a shotgun from the display case. He loaded one shell. Screaming that he was going to make all of them feel it for a change, he rounded up several dozen shoppers, forcing them into the butcher's department at the grocery end of the store. His last tearful words, as he gestured at the meat on display, were these: “You know I feel them go too?”
Then he turned the gun on himself.
For the next month or so, nothing happened. The signs were there, if anybody had bothered to look. Increased hunger for meat and a rise in all measures of aggression was spreading through the population like wildfire. That, by itself, might have easily been mistaken for business as usual in America, for what could be more American than endless appetite for red meat and summer epidemics of violence? What should have been obvious, in retrospect, was the pattern of the spreading violence. There was a lot of finger-pointing at the CDC when the incidence of biting attacks among both humans and animals began to skyrocket worldwide, but by then it was far, far too late. Cities were falling apart. Rural areas were only marginally better. Quarantines shut down the flow of commerce, and food rapidly became hard to come by. Martial law was declared, and blue-card holders were given emergency powers. AEGIS schools became emergency shelters where the hapless E ranks could be more effectively defended by their more durable fellow citezens from the hordes of the so called 'Vester Virus.'
And now the story has come full circle, back to AEGIS facility 108 in Baltimore. Effectively, the plague began here. Fitting then, that it should also see it reach a final end.
Aaron was on watch, one last night. Just a few more hours. Over the last month they had managed to secure the entirety of Sparrow's point, as well as all of Edgemere, Fort Howard, and North Point Park besides. Partly it was the dumb luck of geography, and that the 695 bridge was still closed down, but it was also down to teamwork. Red had converted to the remaining bridges into impromptu drawbridges. Eve had effectively turned the peninsula into an Island. Manami patrolled the water. Ioana patrolled the shore. Kenith did long range reconnaissance searching for survivors while Mary and Jamie fetched them in. Ren and Viola checked them for infection, and McNabb and Eden, working together were able to cure all but the stage III and IVs. Pretty much everybody else at 108 was either on morale duty, like Asher and Denzil, Research division, headed up by Jordan and Viola, or on anti-incursion strike teams. Aaron was on call for strike duty tonight. He was the designated heavy-hitter for night duty. Tabitha got the daytime shift. His eyes and communications team consisted of Joel and Morgan, while Victoria and Alexis rounded out his clean up crew. They made a good team. Zero successful night-time incursions in the three weeks since they secured the island. Working together the staff and students of 108 had managed take territory, hold it, and to save nearly 100,000 people. Aaron took a sip of coffee. It was enough. Enough to sustain the species even if every other enclave in the world failed. Best of all, they only had one more night to go!
“Thank god for pure research!” he thought.
Jordan had shown them the light at the end of the tunnel, just as their community was beginning to lose hope. Working with Viola and McNabb to determine the limits and vulnerabilities of the virus he had finally determined the cause of the rapid degradation of Stage IV plague victims. While the virus made the subjects in stage three preternaturally strong and fast, as well as aggressive and cunning fighters, it also made them highly vulnerable to solar radiation. Since their higher reasoning centers were shot to hell, they didn't know enough to stay out of sight during the daytime. Jordan estimated that the population decline had begun about eleven days previously, and that the population of stage IIIs in baltimore would be down to less than one hundred individuals by noon tomorrow, and effectively zero before sundown. As of this evening however, there could be as many as 25,000 remaining in the city, and so they had to stay sharp. Just then Morgan spoke in his mind startling him. No matter how many times he had encountered telepathy in his long career, it always made him jump.
“Aaron, we've lost contact with Manami. Last known check in was up in Bear Creek, somewhere between the 695 and the 157 bridge. It's probably nothing; her mind is... slippery when she is in combat mode.”
“I'll check it out. Tell Alexis to take high sentry, Vicky's got the gate. Don't wake Ioana unless I call a code, ok? She gets grouchy when she doesn't sleep properly.”
“Understood.”
Aaron took a deep breath and reached for the moon. Space warped around his will, gently reshaped by titanic forces, like a rhinoceros trying to maneuver through cobwebs without breaking them. Once the tunnel was open, he slipped through as easily as pulling on a sweater. The moon was cold and dark. He always stayed on the night side of the terminator if he could help it. It was much easier to aim his return tunnel if he didn't have to fight the glare of the sun off of the moon rocks. He reached back for the earth, and a second later, he was standing in the shallows of Bear creek, waters lapping gently around his knees. He is about to call out for Manami when the water explodes all around him, positively boiling with furious assault. He catches a glimpse of Manami's body, torn asunder and cast aside by the wave of stage IIIs surging towards him out of the creek.
Aaron calmly activates his radio as he wades forward to retrieve her. He thinks his words as deliberately as he can while he says them.
“Morgan, Alexis, Victoria. Feet-wet in Bear Creek. Manami is down. I have her. Estimate 50 inbound. 48. 47. No trouble I can't handle... Move to north gate and prepare to repel stragglers.”
Aaron slings Manami over his shoulder praying it is not too late for McNabb to save her. She is one tough customer, but that wound looks bad. The attack wave is as predictable as ever; they never learn, no matter how many teeth they break on him, no matter how many of their heads he pops like rotten cantaloupes in his hands. As he walks backwards toward dry land they follow mindlessly. Walking into his arms like wheat into a threshing machine. They have no chance against him, and the medical staff have no means to bring the poor bastards back from this stage, so putting them down hard and fast seems the least bad option. On reflection, they do seem to be attacking a little more desperately than usual, with a little more brutality and savagery. Almost as if they know that their time is nearly done. Almost as if they know they've lost, and hate the fact they've been beaten at every level now. Almost...
Aaron's train of thought is derailed when one of the monsters claws right through a stage 3.5er to get at him a little sooner. The eager one's claws rake his face, but to no effect. Well, none on Aaron anyway. For the hapless ghoul between them, that is the end of the trail, and his blood sprays across Aaron and Manami in a fan of scarlet, the more grizzly for the way the moonlight makes it glitter. Aaron pauses for a moment to wipe his face off. The coppery taste of blood nearly makes him vomit, but doesn't stop him smashing three more of his attackers, even as he reels backwards, off balance and suddenly dizzy. His last rational thought is this:
“Oh shit. What if it's gone blood-borne? What if it's...”
His next thought is that he is hungry.
Morgan meets Aaron just inside the North gate. He looks a mess, covered in blood from head to toe, and strangely off kilter, as if tidal forces are throwing him off again. But there is something else. Something disturbing. Some niggling detail that should have been obvious right away.
“Mallory? Where's Manami? Where are Vicky and Alexis?”
The thing that was Aaron Mallory grins broadly, showing teeth as red as his gums, and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. He cocks his head staring strangely, as if Morgan puzzles him, as if he is a riddle to be solved. That is when it clicks. No surface thoughts. Stage III? He starts forward, implacable, unstoppable as ever. Except all Morgan has to do is say “Stop.” And he does. Stock still. Puzzled.
“I know you are still in there Mr. Mallory. You fight this. You can fight this a little longer. Dawn is coming. Hold on. I will get my brother and Eden and Mr. McNabb. They can fix you. No way those animals got you to stage III this fast. Hold on!”
Morgan runs away then, fast as he can go. Aaron, what remains of him, growls, low and guttural.
“Hungry!” he yells. “Aaaargh. Stop PULLING!” The blurry outline of the man begins to darken, pulling in the light of the courtyard and not letting it go. The gate warps, and the masonry of the wall begins to crumble. The man shaped patch of darkness flings its arms upward as if trying to ward off the moon.
“Night light hurts eyes. Day light shines off night light. Day light is hungry too. Eats family. Rrrrrr. AAAAaaarrrrrrron is hungrier. Eat the day light first! Family can eat forrrreverrr!”
The shape falls to the ground now. Perhaps its arms are outstretched toward the dawn, as if in supplication, perhaps it has just fallen in a heap. A few minutes later, it is gone. The others come back with Morgan, but find no sign of their former teacher and colleague apart from a few spatters of blood and his deep footprints. It has been a sad night, but the dawn has arrived at last. As one they turn to watch the sun rise, sparkling on the Chesapeake. It is a beautiful sight: a nearly perfect orange ball with just one tiny blemish. A tiny speck that spreads before their eyes and multiplies, like the boils of a plague. And then, without a bang, without even so much as a whimper, the light fades to black, and the stars come out again.
So, um. Happy weekend e'r body?
One of AEGIS's dirty little secrets was that after the mandatory education phase was done with, there simply was not nearly enough funding to continue to track all the D levels, or even the C levels really. If they were not fundamentally dangerous to society in some obvious way, they were pretty much left alone, and left to their own devices. The fact that they might be a danger to themselves, or a danger to society in some inobvious way, was just an unpleasant fact of life that the agency had collectively adjusted itself to living with.
Sadly for the world, it was a fact that Vester Dodweald could not live with. Commonwealth had ranked him D, and slapped the label of Temporary Necroempathetic Psychic Disorder on what he could do, and called it a day. What he could do was rather curious. He could tell when a living mind died. He could just... feel it. Not the moment of cardiac arrest, but the moment of actual brain death. Any death, of any cause. Within an estimated radius of 100 miles. (It was actually about five times that far, but the techs lost interest halfway through his testing, and half assed their statistical model.) He felt an instantaneous pang of fear and pain, coupled with a strong sense of emotional loss, as if the deceased were a close family member or pet. Unfortunately, the pang was entirely non-specific. It gave no indication as to distance or direction, no information about cause of death or even the species that had died. Nothing with any potential use for a blue card whatsoever. So they shipped him off to 108 and walked him through the required classes. Nobody had anything useful to teach him. Nobody could make the pain less. Nobody really even tried to except for McNabb, and whatever it was he had done, or tried to do, it didn't work. If anything, Vester left 108 even worse off than before. He was given no counseling, no medications, no parting advice. He couldn't hold a job because everybody who hired him thought he was 'too damn twitchy' and pretty quickly found an excuse to let him go. The American's with Disabilities Act would have protected him, if anybody had thought to tell him his rights, but nobody did. Just another so-called super who fell through the cracks of a system geared toward world ending threats. One summer afternoon, about six weeks after 'graduating' from 108, he walked into a Walmart, overpowered a clerk in sporting goods, and stole a shotgun from the display case. He loaded one shell. Screaming that he was going to make all of them feel it for a change, he rounded up several dozen shoppers, forcing them into the butcher's department at the grocery end of the store. His last tearful words, as he gestured at the meat on display, were these: “You know I feel them go too?”
Then he turned the gun on himself.
For the next month or so, nothing happened. The signs were there, if anybody had bothered to look. Increased hunger for meat and a rise in all measures of aggression was spreading through the population like wildfire. That, by itself, might have easily been mistaken for business as usual in America, for what could be more American than endless appetite for red meat and summer epidemics of violence? What should have been obvious, in retrospect, was the pattern of the spreading violence. There was a lot of finger-pointing at the CDC when the incidence of biting attacks among both humans and animals began to skyrocket worldwide, but by then it was far, far too late. Cities were falling apart. Rural areas were only marginally better. Quarantines shut down the flow of commerce, and food rapidly became hard to come by. Martial law was declared, and blue-card holders were given emergency powers. AEGIS schools became emergency shelters where the hapless E ranks could be more effectively defended by their more durable fellow citezens from the hordes of the so called 'Vester Virus.'
And now the story has come full circle, back to AEGIS facility 108 in Baltimore. Effectively, the plague began here. Fitting then, that it should also see it reach a final end.
Aaron was on watch, one last night. Just a few more hours. Over the last month they had managed to secure the entirety of Sparrow's point, as well as all of Edgemere, Fort Howard, and North Point Park besides. Partly it was the dumb luck of geography, and that the 695 bridge was still closed down, but it was also down to teamwork. Red had converted to the remaining bridges into impromptu drawbridges. Eve had effectively turned the peninsula into an Island. Manami patrolled the water. Ioana patrolled the shore. Kenith did long range reconnaissance searching for survivors while Mary and Jamie fetched them in. Ren and Viola checked them for infection, and McNabb and Eden, working together were able to cure all but the stage III and IVs. Pretty much everybody else at 108 was either on morale duty, like Asher and Denzil, Research division, headed up by Jordan and Viola, or on anti-incursion strike teams. Aaron was on call for strike duty tonight. He was the designated heavy-hitter for night duty. Tabitha got the daytime shift. His eyes and communications team consisted of Joel and Morgan, while Victoria and Alexis rounded out his clean up crew. They made a good team. Zero successful night-time incursions in the three weeks since they secured the island. Working together the staff and students of 108 had managed take territory, hold it, and to save nearly 100,000 people. Aaron took a sip of coffee. It was enough. Enough to sustain the species even if every other enclave in the world failed. Best of all, they only had one more night to go!
“Thank god for pure research!” he thought.
Jordan had shown them the light at the end of the tunnel, just as their community was beginning to lose hope. Working with Viola and McNabb to determine the limits and vulnerabilities of the virus he had finally determined the cause of the rapid degradation of Stage IV plague victims. While the virus made the subjects in stage three preternaturally strong and fast, as well as aggressive and cunning fighters, it also made them highly vulnerable to solar radiation. Since their higher reasoning centers were shot to hell, they didn't know enough to stay out of sight during the daytime. Jordan estimated that the population decline had begun about eleven days previously, and that the population of stage IIIs in baltimore would be down to less than one hundred individuals by noon tomorrow, and effectively zero before sundown. As of this evening however, there could be as many as 25,000 remaining in the city, and so they had to stay sharp. Just then Morgan spoke in his mind startling him. No matter how many times he had encountered telepathy in his long career, it always made him jump.
“Aaron, we've lost contact with Manami. Last known check in was up in Bear Creek, somewhere between the 695 and the 157 bridge. It's probably nothing; her mind is... slippery when she is in combat mode.”
“I'll check it out. Tell Alexis to take high sentry, Vicky's got the gate. Don't wake Ioana unless I call a code, ok? She gets grouchy when she doesn't sleep properly.”
“Understood.”
Aaron took a deep breath and reached for the moon. Space warped around his will, gently reshaped by titanic forces, like a rhinoceros trying to maneuver through cobwebs without breaking them. Once the tunnel was open, he slipped through as easily as pulling on a sweater. The moon was cold and dark. He always stayed on the night side of the terminator if he could help it. It was much easier to aim his return tunnel if he didn't have to fight the glare of the sun off of the moon rocks. He reached back for the earth, and a second later, he was standing in the shallows of Bear creek, waters lapping gently around his knees. He is about to call out for Manami when the water explodes all around him, positively boiling with furious assault. He catches a glimpse of Manami's body, torn asunder and cast aside by the wave of stage IIIs surging towards him out of the creek.
Aaron calmly activates his radio as he wades forward to retrieve her. He thinks his words as deliberately as he can while he says them.
“Morgan, Alexis, Victoria. Feet-wet in Bear Creek. Manami is down. I have her. Estimate 50 inbound. 48. 47. No trouble I can't handle... Move to north gate and prepare to repel stragglers.”
Aaron slings Manami over his shoulder praying it is not too late for McNabb to save her. She is one tough customer, but that wound looks bad. The attack wave is as predictable as ever; they never learn, no matter how many teeth they break on him, no matter how many of their heads he pops like rotten cantaloupes in his hands. As he walks backwards toward dry land they follow mindlessly. Walking into his arms like wheat into a threshing machine. They have no chance against him, and the medical staff have no means to bring the poor bastards back from this stage, so putting them down hard and fast seems the least bad option. On reflection, they do seem to be attacking a little more desperately than usual, with a little more brutality and savagery. Almost as if they know that their time is nearly done. Almost as if they know they've lost, and hate the fact they've been beaten at every level now. Almost...
Aaron's train of thought is derailed when one of the monsters claws right through a stage 3.5er to get at him a little sooner. The eager one's claws rake his face, but to no effect. Well, none on Aaron anyway. For the hapless ghoul between them, that is the end of the trail, and his blood sprays across Aaron and Manami in a fan of scarlet, the more grizzly for the way the moonlight makes it glitter. Aaron pauses for a moment to wipe his face off. The coppery taste of blood nearly makes him vomit, but doesn't stop him smashing three more of his attackers, even as he reels backwards, off balance and suddenly dizzy. His last rational thought is this:
“Oh shit. What if it's gone blood-borne? What if it's...”
His next thought is that he is hungry.
Morgan meets Aaron just inside the North gate. He looks a mess, covered in blood from head to toe, and strangely off kilter, as if tidal forces are throwing him off again. But there is something else. Something disturbing. Some niggling detail that should have been obvious right away.
“Mallory? Where's Manami? Where are Vicky and Alexis?”
The thing that was Aaron Mallory grins broadly, showing teeth as red as his gums, and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. He cocks his head staring strangely, as if Morgan puzzles him, as if he is a riddle to be solved. That is when it clicks. No surface thoughts. Stage III? He starts forward, implacable, unstoppable as ever. Except all Morgan has to do is say “Stop.” And he does. Stock still. Puzzled.
“I know you are still in there Mr. Mallory. You fight this. You can fight this a little longer. Dawn is coming. Hold on. I will get my brother and Eden and Mr. McNabb. They can fix you. No way those animals got you to stage III this fast. Hold on!”
Morgan runs away then, fast as he can go. Aaron, what remains of him, growls, low and guttural.
“Hungry!” he yells. “Aaaargh. Stop PULLING!” The blurry outline of the man begins to darken, pulling in the light of the courtyard and not letting it go. The gate warps, and the masonry of the wall begins to crumble. The man shaped patch of darkness flings its arms upward as if trying to ward off the moon.
“Night light hurts eyes. Day light shines off night light. Day light is hungry too. Eats family. Rrrrrr. AAAAaaarrrrrrron is hungrier. Eat the day light first! Family can eat forrrreverrr!”
The shape falls to the ground now. Perhaps its arms are outstretched toward the dawn, as if in supplication, perhaps it has just fallen in a heap. A few minutes later, it is gone. The others come back with Morgan, but find no sign of their former teacher and colleague apart from a few spatters of blood and his deep footprints. It has been a sad night, but the dawn has arrived at last. As one they turn to watch the sun rise, sparkling on the Chesapeake. It is a beautiful sight: a nearly perfect orange ball with just one tiny blemish. A tiny speck that spreads before their eyes and multiplies, like the boils of a plague. And then, without a bang, without even so much as a whimper, the light fades to black, and the stars come out again.
So, um. Happy weekend e'r body?
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