Multiple Settings Something a little different...

[Julian Spooner]

Hello friends.

I had an idea today, and I wanted to sound the boards out for interest. And the idea is: I would be keen to find a partner/partners, not for a fully-fledged roleplay (at least not at this point), but to play writing/character-building games together. This would have the benefit of...

• Finding potential future roleplay partners!
• Practising writing/character-building skills!
• Coming up with exciting ideas that could be used in future roleplays!
• Having a fun time!

The first idea I've had for a game is this: we take turns sharing songs and challenging one another to come up with a character inspired by the song. I've tried an idea like this on the boards, but I thought it had some potential as a one-on-one thing. I'm open to any ideas people have for elaborating on/adapting the game.

Anyway, let me know if you think this could be a good time! In PMs or on the thread

 

[Pandaskel]

Totally in!

 

[Julian Spooner]

Pandaskel magic! Send me a PM and we can brainstorm some ideas

 

[Strawberry]

This sounds really fun! What a interesting way to get those creative juices flowing! I'd love to try this!

Is this one song per character/story idea, or do we get to use a little playlist with I don't know... 3-8 songs and build a character/story from that? I think it would be easier as 1 on 1 to be honest, but I'm on board with this!

 

[Julian Spooner]

Strawberry at the moment I'm playing it 1 song per character/story idea, we exchange a song each and then scurry off to create our characters. There's nothing stopping us from trying it with more songs, but I feel like it would get more difficult! So far it is working better 1x1 than it did on the boards, which is cool.

If you'd be keen to try then PM me!

 

[Julian Spooner]

Yous think this is gonna be a good time, but that's before you realise that every song I pick is The Smiths.

 

[Julian Spooner]

Update: can confirm that this is a good time, at least for me. I have churned out 3 new characters.

 

[Julian Spooner]

Here are the characters I have come up with so far, I'm finding this activity works well for me if I make myself create the characters quite quickly (still waiting for my partners to create their characters, I think my song choices might be a bit difficult)

Spoiler: Character One

Based on:



A a skittering, scraping sound echoed down the alleyway; quiet but incessant, creeping rapidly closer. A burst of lamplight suddenly lit the trash, an eye-like headlight fixed to the front of whatever arcane vehicle was responsible for the sound. Slowly, the first the head and then the body of this machine came into view- motorcycle sized, segmented, many-legged, strangely articulated. The rider of the insect-like machine was still shrouded in shadow; goggled and wearing a hood-like helmet, the rider resembled an insect as much as did the machine.

The machine came to a stop and, with startling rapidity, the rider killed the engine, swung his leg off the beast, ripped off his helmet and stuck an pipe in his mouth. He drew hard on the pipe, and in response it lit his face with a warm electrical glow. His brown hair, sweaty and tangled from the helmet, stuck up in all directions. For a moment one glimpsed what could have been handsomeness in his features- high cheekbones, a strong nose, large dark eyes- but then, quickly, this impression was overtaken by an impression of grease, dirt and crookedness. His eyes did not quite seem to line up, his young face had a slightly haggard appearance, he was a little too thin to be entirely trustworthy. When he smiled, his dark eyes glittered and he revealed crooked, slightly stained teeth. He wore dark, jodhpur-like trousers and a tight-fitting jacket the colour of gravel. He exhaled a cloud of strong-smelling vapour and unzipped the neck of the jacket, revealing a rather dirty collar and a bolo-tie in the shape of a scarab.

Name: Reggie

Age: 20s?

Profession: I see Reggie as fitting into the underbelly of a dystopian sci-fi roleplay, peddling some sort of contraband. Exactly what this is (drugs? tech?) I'm not sure, and it would depend on the roleplay.

Appearance: As above. I see his appearance, dress and manners as having a beetle-like vibe, and just riding that line between attractive and creepy.

Personality: Somebody's very disappointing youngest son, Reggie is a decadent rapidly descending into the underworld of criminality, but his very decadence and immorality comes from his origin in privilege and leisure, like a broke 1800s opium-fiend. He gives off a sense of manic energy, sleaze and philosophical decadence.

Spoiler: Character two

Based on:



Deep puddles collected at the side of the road, and in the trenches carved in the mud by carriage-wheels. Silty grey water ran in rivulets down the hillsides, swelling streams and gradually reducing immaculate pastures into swamps. Evening was falling, and the weather kept the inhabitants of the countryside indoors, huddled around drawing-room fireplaces or around kitchen stoves, depending whether the inhabitants sheltered in one of the humble farmers' cottages, or in one of the stately homes- the great stone constructions of previous centuries- that dotted the countryside. Grasham House was one such grand home, and the family from whom the old place took its name were huddled in just such a way as I described; one by one they had retreated, with that certain hush that is brought on by a sudden darkening of the weather, to the east drawing room. The little family circle did not speak to each other, but settled themselves in different corners and absorbed themselves with their own activities- The sister reading, the Lady embroidering, the father scowling into the fire, and the eldest son bending over an unwritten letter, tapping his pen absently against the paper...

Along the road a carriage laboured, racing against the weather and the falling dark, mud and rain flying from the horses hooves and churned up under its wheels. Inside, a young woman watched the house draw nearer, the drawing room windows glowing like a delicate bubble in the growing gloom. She craned forward a little, enough that a few stray drops landed on her upturned face. She watched intently for some time, and then withdrew back into the carriage, but her dark eyes retained their intent look. Her pale face and hands stood out in the dim light against her heavy, sombre-coloured travelling clothes. Her dark blonde hair hair, beneath her plain travelling hat, was neat and smoothly curled. She was perhaps twenty five. Her whole appearance was one of simple elegance and deliberate restraint, but her features, while delicate, had a peculiar intensity and vividness. As the carriage finally pulled up before the grand house, and the driver swung of his horse to let her down, the strange contrast of her grave composure and shining eyes was enough to almost unnerve him. As if she somehow sensed his fear, the young lady smiled. She had had a sudden vision of herself as a witch, coming out of the woods on the rainy night to steal infants and murder cattle. In reality, her arrival signalled something much more earthly than otherworldly. She had come for revenge.

Name: Clara Smith
Age: 25
Occupation: Governess

Appearance: Tall, slender and elegant. She has dark blonde hair, delicate features, and a peculiarly lively expression. Her dress, and the way she carries herself, are very elegant and restrained, in contrast with her expressive features.

Personality: Clara gives the impression of great wit, intelligence and good-breeding, along with striking composure and self-control. Many find her impressive self-command and sangfroid intimidating, and so rumours follow that she is calculating, but only among those who haven't been captivated by her charm. Deep-seated anxiety, and an even more lively intellect than those around her suspect, are carefully suppressed beneath her calm exterior.

History: Clara is the product of a disastrous alliance between a high-born lady and a disreputable and eventually penniless man. She was brought up by very wealthy and respectable relatives, but was so poorly treated that- upon finishing her schooling- she returned to wreak revenge.

Roleplay: Clara was designed with Regency in mind, but could be adapted to fit various historical/period roleplays, with or without fantastical elements.

Spoiler: character three

based on:



Cedric pulled his truck up outside the diner and cut the engine. As the engine died he heaved a deep sigh; beneath his soft flannel shirt, within his broad, strong chest, he felt a keen ache. He sat for a moment, looking at the calloused hands resting in his lap. Despite his thick beard, despite the fine crop of hair on his forearms, despite the crude stick-and-poke tattoos on his bicep (which he hid from his Mama beneath rolled-down sleeves), Cedric had never been one of those men who was ashamed to cry, if he had a real reason to. He would have cried now, but he found no tears came. His hazel eyes were clear, though his throat felt tight. He coughed to clear it, and after a moment of reflection, reached behind him into the truck and pulled out his old faithful banjo, grasping it gently by the neck, and swung out of the truck and lumbered into the diner, with a certain fierceness of expression and gestures that was really born of strong emotion.

The diner, which segued into bar once the evening fell, smelt of a comforting mixture of tobacco, coffee and waffles and booze. The lights were dim, the tables Formica and the decor a jumbled mix of attempted rusticity and genuine dive-charm. A little wooden stage with its own coloured lights stood in the far corner, a stool sitting waiting. Cedric played here whenever the mood took him, and he hoped that by playing he would escape any small chance of conversation. There was a certain someone he was hoping to avoid discussing tonight, and he couldn't be sure some well-meaning person wouldn't bring them up unknowingly. It wasn't just that he was too hurt- Cedric felt he would be at a loss to know what to say. He simply didn't understand the motives, the feelings that had lead to him being here all alone here tonight, though explanations had been attempted. Maybe he just didn't have that kind of imagination. Perhaps his was a straight-forward world, but at this moment that didn't seem to do him any good. He sat down on the stool, cleared his throat again and began to tune.

Name: Cedric Delaney
Age: 25
Occupation: Mechanic/ farm hand/ forestry worker

Appearance: Tall and solidly built, with slightly curly auburn hair and a short, thick beard. His eyes are hazel, his nose has a very slight hook. He has a stick-and-poke tattoo on each bicep, one of an anchor, one of a banjo and a pair of antlers. He dresses in a simple, manly style- denim, flannel, plaid, fleece, leather- but likes to keep himself clean, tidy and well-groomed in a soap-and-water sort of way.

Personality: Cedric's friends call him "solid", he's a kind and honest young man, rather quiet. He would call himself "simple" because he lives a very simple life, which he understands fully, but doesn't have much imagination or curiosity about the world outside his sphere. In fact, Cedric is not unintelligent or un-thoughtful, but he doesn't rate his own intelligence very highly.


Relationship status: Cedric's lover just left him to up-sticks and move to the city, so... single, he supposes.

Talents: Cedric is a bit of a jack of all trades, but he has a special talent for music, he plays the banjo and has a surprising singing range.

Roleplay: Cedric could appear in a modern/realistic roleplay of some sort, a romance (either straight or gay), but he could also be part of a roleplay with fantasy or supernatural elements, say if his little hometown was plagued by mysterious murders or if he was whisked into some sort of fantastical quest.