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Madison, Vermont, is a dull place to live. A small town in the wild forests and hills of northern Vermont, its sole defining characteristic is the Madison Preparatory School, designed to take advantage of its isolated, natural location to encourage the students to study in a unique environment. Its student body, composed of a mix of local what-passes-for bluebloods and, more recently, out-of-state scholarship students, crammed into a purposefully boring town and tasked with making their own fun in what free time they have, is dysfunctional, to say the least. And thats before you take into account that some of them are literal monsters. What Is This: This is a Monsterhearts game. You pick a skin (class), and act out some shameless teen melodrama full of sex and confusion and terrible life decisions, plus youre a monster so you might also need to eat people or something. Its pretty easy to pick up if youve played Dungeon World or Apocalypse World, or even if you havent -- all you need is your skin and the reference sheet (links are at the bottom of this post). If you feel like signing up, write up a brief description of your character (most people like to do these in first person, in-character), fill out you character sheet and post them both here. While youre at it, describe an NPC that you think would be fun to interact with, and an interesting location around the city -- could be a business, a landmark, whatever. Just try to make it something that you think would be cool for the purposes of the game. Ill give everyone who applies three questions to give them a chance to flesh out the character concept -- submissions will probably be open for like a week. I wont require reference pictures, but they'd definitely help me remember your character. Im looking for six characters, but its possible Ill stretch that out to a higher number. Skins: Because this is my first time running one of these games, and some of the third party skins are weird or hard to balance, I wont be accepting all of them. The skins from the Corebook and Second Skins are fine, that is to say: Chosen Cuckoo Fae Ghost Ghoul Heir Infernal Mortal Neighbour Queen Sasquatch Vampire Unicorn Werewolf Witch Wyrm If people have a really good idea for a character using a skin not on this list, I might accept applications using the Harpy, Hollow, Anansi, Mummy or Shadow skins, but only if its a really good idea. The Setting: Madison is the name of both the Town and the School. The School is relatively new, and its staff untested. A fair number of the details will be decided as we go through character creation, but as some general guidelines for things the players don't decide (i.e. unless you say otherwise, this is roughly how things will be): The School is new, with fancy equipment and enthusiastic teachers. The dormitories just next to the main buildings, and are extensive, and liveable, if sparse. The Town is old, with history dating back to the colonial period. Its people are rustic, and close-knit, but generally friendly, in a small-town way. The Forest just past town is vast, and through there are trails, there are also plenty of wilds to explore. General Considerations: Please be active! Try to post at least once per week. If you have RL stuff, thats cool, and obviously takes priority, but if possible, please let me know in advance so I can try and work the game around it. Monsterhearts is a game that frequently involves tricky subject matter (teen sexuality, homophobia and other forms of shittiness, physical/emotional abuse), just kind of by definition. If any of you get freaked out during play, please talk to me about it. Its important people feel safe here -- I care more about your emotional well-being than I do about this storygame topic. If you need to get a hold of me, you can contact me here or PM me. Im also frequently online in #Swampthings on Synirc.
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Aug 10, 2014 01:22
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I'll give it a shot again. I keep wussing out, but I really do want to play this sort of game. I'll probably be either an Infernal, a Witch, or a Ghoul. EDIT: Here's my Witch. Let's see how it goes.   Magic is leaking. It's not supposed to do that, you see. Magic is supposed to run underneath the surface of the world and keep miracles alive. When you dream of something and suddenly get it, when you are filled with a burst of energy or creativity, when love makes you feel like you've been born anew, that's a little touch of magic. Mysterious, omnipresent, and full of wonder. At least, that's how it's supposed to be. But now it's leaking, and it's building up in people, giving them the power to manipulate it however they want. Make it into things that aren't so nice. I should know. It happened to me. It wasn't supposed to do that, either. My family doesn't have a trace of the wyrding way. I stumbled onto it out in the Forest one day. Just playing around, walking on a fallen tree, when I slipped off and fell into the Wellspring. That's what the leaks are called, by the way. I didn't understand what had happened at first; all I felt was a sort of new connection to the world. Like... like a river running through my head, my hands, my heart. When I stood up and brushed myself off, I could still feel it pulsing through me. When I went back into town, I could sense the same thing in other people, too. It was child's play to simply pull it, modify it to what I desired. What it wasn't was conspicuous. (Glowing in a color unknown to man and screaming in a forgotten language isn't exactly subtle.) Soon after, I was whisked away and taught the secrets of magic by the witching community of Madison. I was taught about magic and power and "sympathetic tokens" (foci, basically), then sternly advised to use my powers carefully and only for good. Sure. Or...I could use them to help myself. Just a little bit. I mean, I'm not gonna abuse my gift or anything. I understand the responsibility I have to maintain the balance of magical energy and whatnot. But what the old folks don't get is that high school is hard, you know what I'm saying? If burning Melissa Coventry's hairband will keep her from beating me up, or casting a Truthspeak spell on Anita Morrissey will make her tell me if she ditched movie night to smoke pot with her boyfriend... what's the harm, really? Net good, if you ask me. Tyler McClure, the Witch posted:Guarded, calculating eyes I've been partially inducted into the group of magic watchers in Madison. I... guess you'd call them a coven? I'm not actually a member yet, but they're the ones who taught me the basics of magic and to keep others from learning about it. I don't see them very often; mostly just Jasmine Pertree, the head of the whole group. She's actually the town psychologist, if you can believe it. She uses her magic to bend people's emotions; she's quite good at it, considering her reputation. Yet supposedly, not even her husband or family have an inkling that she has magic. I... idolize her a lot, actually. She was a bit harsh with me when she caught me using magic for the first time, but other than that, she's been quite the motherly figure to me. Part of my job as a witch is to look for more Wellsprings in Madison whenever I get the chance. School's been pretty busy so far, but I've started to get this... draw, I guess you could call it, to the Flatmore House by the river. It used to be the house of Elias J. Flatmore, the famous author, back around 1836. Even before then, that general area had a weird reputation. Elias Flatmore used to write cheap romance novels, but the longer he stayed in that house, the grislier his stories became. When his family mysteriously died in it, he left it abandoned to move to Chicago, where he supposedly drank himself to death. Occasionally, people would buy it off of the Flatmore family, but nobody could stay there more than a few weeks before going crazy. Anyways, now it sits, empty and decrepit, and the city's still deciding whether to make it a landmark or have it burned to the ground. I should really go and explore it, see if I can find the Wellspring in there somewhere, but... come on, it's a freaking haunted house! I don't even know if my spells work on the undead! (Thanks to Xom for the transparent name title!) ActingPower fucked around with this message at 22:29 on Aug 10, 2014 |
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Aug 10, 2014 01:36
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Genevieve "Drowning Jenny" Baker Description, absent picture: Faint smile, gaze on the horizon, growing stronger when you get her attention and she turns. Direct, immediate, relaxed, confident. Black hair, long and flowing, ends a little indistinct in the wind, slim figure almost trailing away as her long skirt flows loosely. Face a little long, a little thin. Not cute, not ugly, not noticeable. Hazel eyes, shimmery but not really notable. Sometimes it feels like she's just tired, nodding along to be polite but really elsewhere, unfocused. Sometimes she sort of spins up, completely on point, intense and fully present. But usually she's just sort of there, and sort of not. "I've been going to school for over two hundred and thirty years. I've sort of got it figured out, thanks." About me? I lived around here a long time ago. During the revolution, this bastard and I got into a fight, and he threw me off a bridge and into the river. I drowned. I'm still here, don't know why, don't see anything else I should be doing. What else is there to know? pre:Jenny the Ghost Peaceful look, calm eyes, a watery death Hot -1, Cold +1, Volatile -1, Dark +2 Unresolved Trauma: Whenever you project the blame and trauma of your death onto your current situation, roll with dark. On a 10 up, give two people the blamed condition. On a 7-9, give up to two people the blamed condition, but for each, choose one: - You gain the delusional condition, - You cant speak during this scene, - You suffer one harm, - You start re-enacting the scene of your death. Swimmer: You can swim through earth, stone, concrete, glass, and the like. You still need to breathe. You've probably seen Old Man Gaston, one of the few homeless in the town proper. Gaston used to live a mile or two out, brewing moonshine and generally being fake-ornery, but his house nearly disintegrated and now he tends to creep around town, begging off leftovers and money for booze. He used to be pretty nice. zachol fucked around with this message at 05:37 on Sep 12, 2014 |
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Aug 10, 2014 02:00
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Hmm. I'm thinking of something drug Queen-pin like for a game like this. Small town, people with lots of money, they need someone to get their drugs from that isn't some person off the streets. More information incoming in the near future.  First things first. Yes, I speak French. No, I won't speak French with you. Only reason I know it is because my father said I'd be the shame of the family if I didn't. It means one less class I have to pay attention to, and one more place to pick out some future clients in this little shithole. Not like there's many better things to do around these parts. You've got to drive thirty miles at least to get to something resembling the twenty-first century, and it's not even a real city. I'm from Chicago, now that's a real city. Los Angeles, New York..Those are real cities. I guess this is what I get for being smarter than the average rich kid. Not like my parents saw anything but my grades anyways. Oh, sure, they told my parents that they only let the best and brightest, but it's all just a facade. If you're a dumbass who can barely tie your own shoes, they just charge your parents in donations, fees, taxes and whatever else to make their ends meet. That's good news for me, and bad news for those poor addled retards who can't give me their money fast enough. All for little bags full of whatever they think they need to survive the next day. Uppers, downers, from pot to meth, I can get it for you. People say I'm not one for loans, and that hurts me. I'll give you credit, I'm not some sort of monster. You just make sure you pay what you owe, plus interest. You can't pay, though, you can't play. That's incentive enough around these parts. Not that I haven't given some people a bit of extra incentive if they needed it. I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to get an education, just not the one these teachers think. Learning about how these little peons work, how to get them giving me what they got while I give them half of what they need. It's not personal, it's business. My business isn't even about the money most days. Money helps me keep my business going, but I do it for the respect. People don't step up to me, not because I'll hurt them, but because I'll make them the target of every single one of their peers. Convincing a bunch of bored, rich kids that little Suzie, all proper and clean, is a whore? They already want to believe it before I even say a word. Evie, The Queen posted:Look: Icy, Calculating eyes  Mr. Richard Jones, the PE teacher who usually goes by Coach, looks like he's spent a lot of his life in a lot of harsh places. He's got tattoos from being in the military, which he tries to hide from the kids. His classes, however, are anything but boot camps. He's focused on giving these kids some fun while keeping them moving, all while trying their hardest. In fact, he'd rather a kid try hard and fail than not try and barely succeed. He's also big on actually educating, even if most of what he knows is from what he's heard in his trips all around the world. Still, he tries to make his class a welcoming environment, to the relief of most of the less-fit kids in the school.  There's a place that most people call Makeout Creek, right out into the woods right off the campus. It's probably got some other name that no one remembers, but it's been the place for the local teenagers to meet up and do things that they don't want their parents and their friends to know about. Still, it's odd how -everyone- goes there to do this sort of thing and no one seems to remember seeing anyone else there. I mean, dunno why people would be ashamed of that sort of thing. The Lore Bear fucked around with this message at 00:54 on Aug 11, 2014 |
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Aug 10, 2014 02:02
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Interested in this. Thinking of an Infernal, though I may try something else.
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Aug 10, 2014 02:06
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Monsterhearts Application, Take Two. Work in Progress Walt Whateley  Don't give me that look. I know what you want to say, and I would prefer you didn't, but I know you're gonna say it anyway... You still here? You actually want to talk to me? You are wasting your time, but okay, I'll humour you. I am Walt, I came from the forest... You are doubtful I see, I can tell by your face, I would honestly be surprised if you weren't though, so okay, I came the same way most other people came here, from out of town. Mother wanted her son to move away from home, get a scholarship, gain some independence. I think it might just be she wanted me out of the house, which is understandable, I think we needed some space from each other, especially when the neighbors were starting to ask, pointed questions that neither of us were prepared to answer, so I moved here, after all, out here I am just Walt. 'Course, when you are an 8 foot tall giant from the sticks (well, the even stick-ier sticks that is), you draw some funny looks. I'm more, well known then I would wish to be, and when you are known, but keep to yourself, you get some gossip going about you, a few names behind your back (only a few try to say it to my face though), prying looks in the corridor, that sort of thing. I try not to make it personal, laugh at the light jests, ignore the harsher ones, give a hard stare at the ones who think they are hot poo poo for goading the guy with a few good feet on them, but sometimes it gets difficult, and there are some days, when I really, really get close to hurting someone, but most of the times, I let it wash over me. The best times I have had though, is when people don't know I am there, there are a lot of, interesting things that you can learn when people don't notice you, what you hear, what they know, or what they don't know rather. So I made a game out of it, I go to school, and I listen, to the lectures yes, I have to get those good grades, but mostly to people; this scandalous rumour, that bit of light gossip, their story, the big 'thing' around town. I have learned, many things through this, and all I had to do was be there. And I have heard, very interesting things as a result, some things that even I can scarcely believe, but if they were true, that would make this little town a lot more intriguing then it looks. Of course, I can never really tell what I heard, no one would believe me/ And honestly, it's sometimes better that they believe what they want to believe. The Truth can be even stranger then the fiction. pre:Walt, The Sasquatch Look: Tentative, Forgettable Eyes Origin: Was a Quiet Child. Hot : -1 Cold : -1 Vol. : 1 Dark : 2 Sasquatch Moves Musk You have a distinct smell, unpleasant to some, intriguing to others. When you sweat in the presence of others, roll with volatile. On a 10 up, the MC gives you a String on someone there and they choose: > Compliment you, > Apologize to you, > Give themselves to you. On a 7-9, the MC gives you a String on someone there, and that character gives you a Condition, delivered in the most appropriate way. Hidden In The Scenery When it appears that you're not around, you may roll with dark. On a 10 up, you're there and you remain completely unnoticed. On a 7-9, you're there, and somebody sees. If they don't draw attention to you, They gain a string on you at the end of the scene. Negatives When you really, really want specific evidence of yourself to disappear, Either from the world or from the memory of someone with no Strings on you, Roll with dark. On a 10 up, it happens. Those tracks are gone. On a 7-9 the evidence or memory is gone, but the pieces don't all add up: A mystery remains Backstory You've been a wallflower all your life, but someone finally noticed you. Give them a String. Someone makes fun of you. What do they say? They give you a Condition, and you gain 2 Strings on them.  Edna Thatcher is the house mother of our dormitory building. Ms. Thatcher is known by her more common nick-name 'Ms. Thresher', a nickname bestowed onto her by a large quantity of students living under her roof, due to her being an incredibly ruthless and no nonsense lady, with a very low tolerance for bullshit, and young people doing carnal things in her building. 'Stuck-up Prude' is a very strong and unkind word, I feel it's more that in her day and age, teenagers held a higher moral standard, and she measures today's youth by those very same standards. Under her 'rule' very little misconduct happens within the Dorms, probably for the best.  Compare and contrast, The King in Yellow. Rules state that students are not allowed to consume alcohol on campus, nor should they be buying any, and yet 'The Pisser' is one of the most poorly kept secret meeting places of students from Madison Prep, who are on the look out for cheap alcohol and occasionally, dubiously legal substances. The place is, for all intents and purposes, a dive, masquerading as a respectable bar, treated as a night club by most of the students, and if the owners are trying to dissuade this in anyway, they don't seem to be doing a very good job. Still though if it's booze and/or drugs you are after, The King is your best bet, though best you don't say that out loud. TheNabster fucked around with this message at 14:29 on Aug 14, 2014 |
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Aug 10, 2014 02:18
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Thinking of apping a wyrm for fun.
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Aug 10, 2014 04:22
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Lily Green-Zuckerman, the Fae You know whats really bullshit? How, just because shes hurt we all need to pretend like shes a super awesome person who we all loved. Like, just because she broke her arm running a red light like a dumbass, I need to sign her card, and and put a cheerful little platitude next to my signature. Hey Cindy, get well soon! Lay off the pot next time you decide to get behind the wheel! Okay maybe Im a little bitter. But, me and Cindy, we werent really friends. Maybe I thought we were for a long time, but that was just me being over trusting, I guess. Because, being friends means that when someone tells you something in confidence, you keep it secret. You don’t like, go and have a big laugh behind their back, and tell the guy and then actually gently caress him like she didnt know it would upset me! So okay, maybe part of me wanted her to keep going past that red light. Maybe part of me wanted to see her smash up that pretty little car her daddy bought her for her 16th birthday. Maybe part of me -- the part thats not entirely human -- reached across that street, and willed her to just keep on driving. It was a split second thing! I didnt really think, but like this poo poo was all over Facebook, and it hurt, okay? And I was mad! I didnt really want her to get hurt! Well, okay, I did, but that doesnt mean I dont feel bad about it now. Alright, give me the goddamn card, Ill sign it. Let me explain: Like I said earlier, Im not exactly 100% human. I met my biological father on my 7th birthday. On one hand, I was kind of thrilled -- what little girl doesnt want to find out that shes secretly a princess? On the other, well, he was a little bit greener than I had anticipated. For that matter, so was I, when he lifted my glamour for the first time. Mostly it was cool though, after the initial shock. Being a goblin princess has some perks, even if Im not really supposed to talk about them with anyone else. My moms dont know -- neither of them ever met my father. Turns out that sperm banks do wonders for the ethics of this whole changeling racket. As far as theyre concerned, Im just their slightly weird teenage daughter. Theyre charmed, I think, because they just flat out dont notice most of the weird poo poo that happens because of who/what I am. I feel bad about that sometimes, but, like, it doesnt seem to hurt them, so I guess its okay. I know what I did with Cindy was going a bit overboard, but she broke a promise. A loving pinky-swear! I was joking when I asked her for one, but like, thats an oath ritual, man! You cant go around making that kind of important personal promise to a fae and not expect to get a slap on the wrist at least! or in this case, a compound fracture in your right arm and your drivers license revoked for six months, but whos counting? Yeah, I should probably go visit her in the hospital or something. Since I'm going to this new school in the middle of nowhere now or whatever, and probably won't be around when she gets out. Turns out his majesty the goblin king is not too pleased about my little stunt with Cindy and the car -- not because she got hurt, but because it was so 'obvious.' Too easy to trace it back to me, too loud, too amateur and too public; other noticed. Apparently, I'm an embarrassment, and he needs to get me out of the way for a while to save his reputation at the Unseelie Court. So, yeah -- he's pulled a few strings and got me a big fancy scholarship to a big fancy school where I have no friends and there is exactly nothing to do. My parents (as in, my actual parents, the women who raised me) are pretty thrilled about it, and are now convinced that they signed me up for it months ago -- no chance of getting out of it on their end. But hey, at least I'm not going to have to look at Cindy's cast for weeks on end, I guess. Who knows, this could be fun.  quote:Lily Green-Zuckerman, The Fae Ms. Carmichael: Ms. Carmichael is the newest addition to Mad Prep's staff. This is allegedly her first full time teaching job, and her youth and good looks have not gone unobserved by the student body. She has so far come across as warm and friendly, if perhaps not as strict as she needs to be sometimes. And if strange and alarming noises can sometimes be heard at night drifting up from the little cottage she's rented, well, it is right next to the woods. Certainly no one would accuse such a nice young woman of anything sinister.  Madison Forest: The Madison forest is a stretch of pristine woodland to the north of the town, protected from logging primarily by a twenty year legal quagmire as to who -- if anyone -- actually owns it. For now and the foreseeable future, the forest is here to stay, however. From town, it looks as though a walk in the woods would be pleasant enough. Some nice trees, a bit of shade, probably some cute wildlife. Once you step into the forest, though, the lighting abruptly grows dim, outside noises disappear. The path is treacherously difficult to find, and strange noises echo from the underbrush. Some of the older locals are very cagey about what sort of animals might be making them. In short, it is spooky as gently caress. 
Gazetteer fucked around with this message at 22:20 on Aug 17, 2014 |
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Aug 10, 2014 04:29
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Lemuel Pahlke I don't mind this town so much. It's quaint, innocent, and I could see myself living here once I get done at the school. During the day. But when night comes, it's... awful. The sin comes out, and it changes everything. Not just the sin you think about, either. The sin that throws you around in your sleep, makes you feel like you've been chucked through a window, wakes you up at night just to prove it can, then fills your head with everything that makes you weak so you can't find respite. The town's buildings climb up into the stars and blot out the night with fluorescence. Trees twist together into metal rods and the grass turns plastic. The air doesn't glow with the moon like it should. I still feel darkness on my skin and hear the void in my ears, but everything is clear. And everything wants to see me fail. Nobody exists at night. You might be thinking "You mean I don't exist when I fall asleep?" and that's not true. I mean, THE Nobody. The absence of life. It comes out at night to test me by cutting me off from the ordinary world. Nobody walks the streets and nobody fills our vehicles. It creates a world where sin is god and I'm the sole rebellion. And I fail, every night. The rules stay the same, but I still can't figure out this game. I just feel like I'm so far away from everyone who tries to do good, and I have to run. I have to find a safe place to hide, and it just doesn't exist. So when I finally give in, nobody finds me, and nobody brings me back to the ordinary world, and nobody pats me on the back and says, "I'm rooting for you." Stuff like that makes me want to resent it, but I can't feel contempt and nobody knows that. And the birds... It has a way of getting in my head. I need help from anyone I can find, anyone with enough good in their heart to see the world as it truly is, a disgusting and horrid hive of sin. I know somebody is better than nobody. P.S. Please, don't call me Lemmy. I get this a lot. Lem will work, thank you. quote:Skin: The Unicorn Babbitt Underpass  A little tunnel under Babbitt Street Bridge where the homeless people like to sleep. It's loud, it stinks, and there's not a lot of room, but it's all they have to stay out of the rain. I bring some Hardee's down there every now and again, since I'm not spending money on much right now. They have a good idea who I am down there, which is cool. It's just as dark here as it is in the sin world. Not one light the entire way. It's a little creepy, but after a while it becomes a relief to be out of the light. Nobody can find me because it's open either way, but it could be a good escape route from real world evil. Liv Morgan  She and I have all the same classes, and she sits next to me for almost all of them. She just got dumped a few days ago, and I think she sees me as the rebound. I'm the complete opposite of most guys I've seen her with, which saddens me because her interest is... well, you might call me pathetic for not responding to it. I mean, I see it and hear it and feel it, but instead of feeling the warm of love, I feel burnt from everything she's done before coming on to me. One time, she wore black lipstick. All day. Then at fifth period (sitting next to me, of course), she says my name, I look over and she kisses me on the cheek. Now, if I was normal, if I didn't see what happens to the town because of stuff like that, that right there would be the moment where she and I became a couple. But instead, her lips seared my skin. I mean, I was getting hot and bothered, but because I felt like she had just put a gun to my temple. I had to bear this mark for two hours. I think I have a scar from it. I ca't lie to her, but I feel like telling the truth is just going to burn even more. I still have a whole semester ahead of me, humoring her advances, reminding myself that if she goes any further I've doomed the whole town. But she's still... a friend, I guess. She listens to me about my "dreams," and says I'm just feeling lost in my life. So now I'm lost in both worlds. Double May Care fucked around with this message at 00:52 on Aug 16, 2014 |
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Aug 10, 2014 04:37
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Hmm, are skins like the Angel, Serpentine, and the Selkie also allowed? They're semi-official, I believe (as is the Hollow).
Mitama fucked around with this message at 08:54 on Aug 10, 2014 |
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Aug 10, 2014 08:50
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Not semi-official. They're official skins. The Selkie is even supposed to be part of the Second Skins when it eventually comes out for real (we have that updated version already).
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Aug 10, 2014 17:11
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I would include those three in the 'will accept if you have a really good interesting idea' category, then. Now, questiontime! First Question: Tyler: Of course you don't use your magic recklessly or anything, but which spell have you cast that would make Jasmine the angriest or most disappointed (whichever is worse) if she found out? Genevieve: You've been Evie: There are always would-be usurpers in every kingdom. Some punks have been trying to offer an alternative product to yours. Who are they, and what are you going to do about it? Walt: So you've heard some interesting things when people thought you weren't listening. What's one thing you've heard that you find personally interesting, and why do you find it interesting? Lily: Put simply, even when glamoured, you've got a pretty unique appearance, especially in a podunk town like this. Who's tried to hassle you about it, and how did you react? Lemuel: It sounds like there's nobody... sorry, it sounds like you haven't found somebody who has enough good in their heart to see the world the way it is, yet. Was there ever anyone you thought might be that somebody? What went wrong?
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Aug 10, 2014 19:27
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quote:Walt: So you've heard some interesting things when people thought you weren't listening. What's one thing you've heard that you find personally interesting, and why do you find it interesting? (It's Watt, not Walt, but I like the sound of Walt better then Watt, so now I am Walt) Oh there are some things that I am not 100% sure on, weird rumours more then anything, ghost haunts, old cults, that sort of thing, but for the sake of not wasting your time with idle gossip and urban myths, I will instead tell you about something I am absolutely sure of. So, I imagine you have guessed right now, the lovely and oh so quiet town of Madison, Vermont has an incredibly seedy underbelly, with a very surprisingly large amount of drugs run through it on a weekly basis, to the point where there have even been little gangs set up all trying to push their own stuff onto the market. I could name names, but I won't, on the off chance that it goes back to the people in question about who has been telling, and I get grief for it. So I listen to one group of shabby upper-class men one day, talking about how they were looking for The Goat to score some sort of substance called Root. Now, I've heard all the names for whatever the kids are using these days when they think no one is watching, and I have my ear close enough to the ground to take a guess at what some new names might be. But, I had never heard of anything called Root until that point. Listening some more, I dunno what this stuff is but it's apparently some really potent stuff, vivid images, really gets your chemicals going, one guy even said he started speaking in tongues, so, I decided, "Well, my weekend is free, I have no plans, lets see where this goes." But that's not what was really intriguing after I looked into it, for me at least. It's very easy to follow the trail of where the drugs come from a lot of the time, you just follow the money, but this guy, this Goat, no one actually knows who he is, or where he comes from, he just shows up, passes off his product, and disappears from sight before any of the other local 'names' show up. I ran a little snoop on the usual suspects, Micky Finn, The Beard, a few people in the, unofficial employ of certain people in my class, none of them have ever heard of him, and they assumed he was a guy for one of the other dealers. And the people who are getting this stuff aren't going to share anytime soon, they all seem really secretive about it. Come to think of it, those first classmen I talked about, they have been acting really weird lately, and last time I heard they were off sick with something. It's most mysterious, but let's remain on topic with this Goat. The only thing I can really gather from it, is either this guy is running his own thing by himself in the town, and he is so far beneath notice that none of the locals know who he is, or he is someone from outside the town itself in the employ of someone, much, much larger then these, small name, big ego types, styling themselves out to be Tony Montana when they are in reality just small fish in an isolated pond. If it's the latter, then they might just be in for a rude awakening, and the thought of it is almost enough to make me crack a smile. Almost. TheNabster fucked around with this message at 12:15 on Aug 11, 2014 |
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Aug 10, 2014 19:39
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AdjectiveNoun posted:Lily: Put simply, even when glamoured, you've got a pretty unique appearance, especially in a podunk town like this. Who's tried to hassle you about it, and how did you react? Brian Masterson is an entitled dick, okay? Strutting around like he's hot poo poo just because his family is what passes for old money out here in the middle of nowhere. It took me all of one conversation to realise this; at first, he seemed alright, and I didn't mind talking to him much. Like I said, I know zero people in this town, so I was all for talking to anyone, even if they do look like a ken doll's less attractive little brother. Then he just, out of nowhere, tells me that I'd look pretty hot if I 'lost the skittle hair and took all that poo poo out of my face.' And he has this earnest look on his face when he says it, like this is super heartfelt advice or whatever. Such great advice, I guess, that he feels the need to give me some variation on it everytime we see each other! If I tell him to gently caress off or something, he gets all taken aback, because 'hey, calm down, it's a compliment!' So, yeah -- he's just a nice guy, letting me know how good I'd look if I completely changed my appearance to be more appealing to him. Sure is a shame that someone keeps slashing his tires! And just this morning, I guess someone emptied a whole can of pink spray paint all over his car's shiny black paint job. Not that I'd know anything about that, you know? Since I've been keeping my nose clean lately. Gazetteer fucked around with this message at 22:11 on Aug 10, 2014 |
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Aug 10, 2014 21:25
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AdjectiveNoun posted:First Question: Look, I dealt with punks like Matthew Ridgewood before. He wants to be like me, but he doesn't know who I am. He thinks all I've got are the drugs, but drugs are the easy part. You talk to a chemist, a guy with a plant, whatever. Dealing's about word of mouth, and selling people what they want, not about some new product. Missy's gonna get some of this new poo poo, and we're going to see if it's something worth the trouble. Ridgewood thinks he's smart, so it's obviously not some cheap poo poo. Jen'll figure out what it is, and we'll tell him what we know. I'll give him a chance to sell what he has to me, at a good price. I'm not a monster. But he'll refuse, they always do. And that's when I start dismantling him before he gets a chance to regret it. Start with the simple stuff. Rumors about the guy, what he prides himself on. If it's grades, say he's cheating. If it's being a ladies man, say he's gay. You start with words, then you move to the physical. Proof that he's exactly what the rumors say he is. Gay porn, women's clothes, cheat sheets, whatever. Stuff is easy to find, and it speaks. All his friends that he built up, they'll all back away. And when he's all alone, then you bring the pain. Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. You leave a mark, not somewhere that people will see, but somewhere that they'll remember. I've never seen someone make it past the rumors, but it'll be fun if someone does.
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Aug 10, 2014 21:39
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Shelly posted:The year is 1979, Rio de Janeiro. Shelly pauses to push her sunglasses a bit further up her nose, chewing slightly on the end of her cigarette butt. "What, you don't believe me? Its true. See, I've got a badge and everything!" "What do you mean it looks like it ordered it off the internet?!" "...You're a real jerk, you know that?" She pauses again, blowing a cloud of smoke into your face in irritation, then shrugs. "Alright, you got me. I didn't make it all up though!" "Agent" Shelly Partridge  I'm a member of the 'Causality Readjustment Agency'. Basically, we go around through the past, and make sure the right things happen, or don't happen, as it may be, in order to ensure that the future we come from stays active. The big problem with time travel is, you have to invent it to do it, but then if you aren't careful using it, it never gets invented. And then all sorts of things start going wrong. As you guessed, we don't actually go around hunting down nazi renegades trying to unleash a zombie horde. actually I'm pretty sure there is a zombie horde set to happen a few hundred years from now. Just not nazis. What we do do is like my mission here, which was to make sure a college student passing through town misses his train, so he meets the girl he falls in love with on the next train. One of their kids invents the first time machine. You think that sounds pretty important for a high schooler? You bet it is! I just happen to be the field agent of the month for the last six months! No, seriously. I'm not lying this time....gently caress you. .... So, why am I still here then? Thats.... a good question. My time machine isn't working properly right now. If this is one of my colleagues playing a prank on me, they are going to get it, big time. I've been communicating with the HQ, but they say something went wrong with my causality flux capacitor-no its not actually called that but it stops me from having to say a bunch of stuff you won't understand, alright? Anyway, apparently it overloaded and is causing a big tangle of possible futures, so even if I could leave I'd have to stick them out and make sure they end up going the right way. The nice thing about being trapped in the past is that our Agency can go a bit further back to set things up if I need them. I just got a letter detailing my cover for the duration, come on luxury suite, come on luxury suite! Hellooooo .....enrollment in Madison Preparatory School. I am going to give those jerks a massive kick up the rear end when I get back. SERIOUSLY? A SCHOOL? Shelly Partridge posted:Skin: The NPC: Alan Walker  Alan is clearly one of the 'cool' kids at Madison Prep, or rather he thinks he is. He isn't lame enough for the real popular kids to mock, and not interesting enough for them to pay any attention to, so he gets away with trying to hold his own mini-court among the lower social strata. Also, the easiest way to tell he isn't cool at all is that he likes to go for hikes in the woods. No one cool likes to go on hikes. Or likes the woods for anything but a party spot. He is a giant tool though, you know, on my first day there, I had my sunglasses on (because my contacts hadn't arrived yet so I still had techno-eyes, and he just comes right up to me and, no greeting or anything, says "Oh man, it must be scorching on planet cool." Which has to be the least sick burn you could make for someone wearing sunglasses. Besides, my sunglasses do look cool. gently caress you Alan. Location: Rockaway Basin (The Swimming Hole)  Rockaway Basin is further up stream from campus than Makeout Creek, and it probably looks pretty nice during the winter (especially it freezes over, does it get that cold here?) from spring to fall it gets swarms of local students wanting to cool off in the passably sized swimming hole, or going for a thrill jumping from the cliff side, which has a variety of paths leading up to different heights. I heard that even though no one has jumped from it in living memory, people still speak of one person who was brave enough to jump from the highest edge, about 50 feet above the surface of the water. A trail leads up to it, worn by the feet of everyone going up to look, thinking of jumping, but inevitably backing down. Some nerd did the math, and apparently the water below is deep enough at that point to make the landing safe, but when seen from above, no one has ever been able to go through with it. A belly flop would be murder. GodFish fucked around with this message at 21:52 on Sep 4, 2014 |
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Aug 10, 2014 21:42
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AdjectiveNoun posted:First Question: Small things here and there, really. I've used it to help with homework assignments or remember stuff for tests (but who cares about that, really?), I can use it to make girls like me, and I can use it to read people's minds, kinda. Those aren't big deals, really. I don't use them often enough for anyone to notice any patterns. Now, the two big ones... It's funny, but the Binding spell just says "subject cannot harm others." It doesn't actually define what "harm" means; that's up to me. Is my mom grounding me "harming" my social life? Is her keeping me out of the wine closet "harming" my desire to drink booze? Is her desire to stay away from my dad "harming" my family unit? (I mean, he's not that bad of a guy, really. I don't understand what she has against him.) I've gotten all of them to work one way or another. She doesn't notice if a sock or two goes missing, so she's the easiest to hex. There is... one thing, though. Maybe it's the magic, or the thing with my dad, or something, but... well... the spell specifically says "cannot harm others." It can't stop self-harm. Dying would harm me, obviously, but... So... yeah. There's that. Now, the Truthspeak spell, that one I haven't used all that much, so Jasmine wouldn't be particularly upset about that. Considering how much she uses it to get her patients to talk, I don't think she could chastise me about that without being a massive hypocrite. ActingPower fucked around with this message at 22:30 on Aug 10, 2014 |
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Aug 10, 2014 21:53
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AdjectiveNoun posted:Lemuel: It sounds like there's nobody... sorry, it sounds like you haven't found somebody who has enough good in their heart to see the world the way it is, yet. Was there ever anyone you thought might be that somebody? What went wrong?  There are a lot of people who put on airs of purity. After a while I've learned to notice when people lie so they can keep being innocent in normal people's eyes. When you're our age you can't help it. I mean, I can, but I don't have anything to hide so there's no point in lying. But I was looking for someplace to sit at lunch. People know me at least, so they don't mind me sitting with them, but I only enjoy their company for the sake of having company because I just can't listen to their stories. Then I saw an empty table with two guys, Tanner and Landon, who were playing a card game. I said I detest gambling, but there wasn't money on the table, and the cards all had pictures on them so I figured they were playing for sport. I don't mind sports. So I sat down with them. I asked them what they were playing and they told me it's a collectible card game, one which required some form of investment to even begin to compete. It seems a little sketchy now, but at the time I figured fair is fair when everyone has access to the same tools. So they handed me a deck of cards and walked me through the steps, all without admonishing me or making me feel like I'm losing even though I'm pretty sure I lost every game. Then at the end of lunch, Tanner handed me an old deck which, because its cards aren't current, can't be used to win money. And he just gave it to me without asking for compensation. I didn't feel any pain from accepting the deck, so I figured they were cool. I played with them for a few more days and got to know them better. And then I saw Landon pat Tanner on the butt. Not a football pat either. I think he squeezed a little. That night, when nobody was watching, I went to where Tanner's house would be (it's still more of a tower in the warped world) and saw images scratched onto the building's windows that seem to suggest... stuff. Tanner and Landon were best friends for as long as then could remember, so one night during a sleepover, they decided to experiment on each other "just to know what it's like." They willingly sacrificed their purity with full knowledge of how sex works, breaking the sacred bond of friendship, transforming it into something obscene. I judge all sinners the same. I didn't want them to know I know, and lying to them would leave a bad taste in my mouth because I still enjoy the game, but I gave up on the lunchroom. It's just debauchery everywhere I look. Doesn't anyone understand true love? Why does it have to be so... materialist? Indulgent? Selfish. That's what it is. What they call a couple is just two individuals seeking a fix with each other. True love transcends individuality. Two hearts become one, two minds think as one. Sex has to stop eventually, but love never dies. Maybe I need to look for love to find someone who can help. Double May Care fucked around with this message at 02:57 on Aug 12, 2014 |
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Aug 11, 2014 01:28
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AdjectiveNoun posted:Genevieve: You've been Please, call me Jenny. I haven't been 'Genevieve' for over eighty years. Actually there's an interesting story there with the roaring 20's, but I think I'll tell you about the raid instead. Now, the thing about me is that I sort of go 'round in a cycle, usually either three or four years, leading up to my death in the summer, when I'm eighteen. Then I show up again at school, sometimes a freshman, sometimes a sophomore, and it repeats. That, at least, is the way it works now, but back in the day when the schoolhouse was much smaller and things didn't work so regular, I was a little irregular myself, and during the war, I mean the civil war, I was prone to wandering. I've been as far east as the coast, been to Newfoundland, and as far south as the capital, but at the time I was in northern Vermont. So, I'm in this town, St. Albans, reflecting on the war and such, when this man comes into my hotel room. This happens, sometimes, for what I figure are the same reasons as why I can take the same class with the same teacher a dozen times over their career without them noticing. I'd been there a month, and the name maybe faded off the record or somewhat, and the clerk had forgotten he'd already rented that room. I watch him a while, smile a bit when he passes near and gets a chill, and sort of lurk in a chair near the doorway. Then I get bored, and a little irate, and I knock over the vase on the desk. He starts, sees me, and gets all flustered and apologizing, because now he sees my bags and figures I must've been staying here and he went into the wrong room. He's a little charming, in that real polite, earnest way, and I feel a little sorry for him and sort of laugh it off, saying there must've been a mixup downstairs, and we get to chatting about this and that, and then one thing leads to another, as things do, in that fairly agreeable way. Now, it's three days later, and I start to notice a few peculiar things. First off, there's been quite a lot of visitors gathering around in town, with the hotels getting rather much fuller than usual. This is in mid October, but we've got vacationers like it's the spring or early summer, and the war's still going on. They're all young men, the sort that should be volunteering. I mean, not that I'd be particularly blameful, it's just another oddity piled on. Second off, most other folks in town are anxious too. They know something's up, so it's not just me being my usual peculiar self. And, third off, this boy is still anxious. He gets nervous when I go near his bags, and he always laughs off any question about his past or what he does. So then, one day, I ask him where he's from, anyway, and he tells me he's from Canada. Now, this was incredibly strange, since from all I could tell he was more likely to have come from Kentucky, but I don't say anything, I just smile and say 'oh, that's nice,' and he smiles and relaxes too. Then it's another week later, or a bit longer. These strangers from "Canada" are all gathering, and it's come to the point where the sheriff's going to be past irresponsible if he doesn't take some precautions, and so there's discussions going on, and my boy's just staring out the window, looking anxious, while I lay there on the bed and stare at him, and get anxious myself. I'm sure, now, that he's Confederate, but I'm not sure what to do about it, since there's about two dozen of them in town, and pretty much everyone else has had to have figured it out too, and I'm not going to be the one to raise a fuss and set the whole powderkeg off if someone who actually knows what they're doing is in the middle of taking some proper action. But then, this is the point where he looks at something outside, and panics, and runs out, and I decide I've had about enough if this and go over and open his bag, and what do I find? About a half dozen bottles of naphtha, of burning Greek fire. Now this is a real problem, as I'm sure you could gather, and for longer than I'd care to admit I stand there gaping like a fool, but eventually I get my head screwed on straight and charge out of the room, one if those bottles in my hand, and come face to face with the boy, and we both look shocked at each other, then he spots the bottle and gets this real mean face, and then I... well, then I get a little upset myself, and shove him back inside the room, and leave to go outside. Well. So, it turned out the bastards had hit three of the banks. Were hitting, I should say, and one of them was nearby, so I see this crowd and then what I realize are the Confederates, not in any uniform but just from how everyone's positioned. Things go on like that for a fair while, and a few people get shot, and I'm sort of just running about in my nightgown, fretting, and the day goes on like that, and I see my boy, who's still a little soaked, come around, and then I realize they mean to burn the town as well. Now I don't want that happening, obviously, so I charge in and sort of get to scuffling, and a few others do too, but it's mostly me, but they fight me off and shove me away, and move to light the fuses, but then nothing happens. The rags got soaked, and none of the bottles will light. Anyway, getting to the point now. So here, the boy looks at me, and his face screws up again, and he points and says 'she did it, she's a witch,' and the Confederates get this hard look too, and then my fellow Vermonters look a little shocked and a little frightened, and turn away, and then that boy goes into a screaming rage, and he and some if his fellows drag me into this shed, bar it, and somehow have a single bottle that I hadn't spoiled, which they toss in that she'd and light it on fire. And so I watch out this crack as he looks on, stone faced, and die again, burning alive Made me feel horrible, that's what.
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Aug 11, 2014 02:01
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Sarah Weissmann  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qnVD7WuarSo It stood over him and it was eating him.  Sarah couldn't believe her eyes, and they seemed to unfocus on the creature as its skin seemed to drip and replenish from the floor again. "This is all my fault." She said in a gasp, her voice broken as the creature lowered its head and took another bite from the corpse that was her Father. She had to be quiet now, no time for shrieks, just silent tears, or it would see her. The way the thing moved was like a it was pouring out a glass of water and it flowed horizontally. This was all her fault, she concluded, after all it was her choice to follow him along on his night trips. To be fair, she had thought he was cheating on Mom. What she was going to do when she found him she hadn't thought of, but she had to do something! It couldn't happen night after night. Trailing him at first had been difficult, but she had eventually managed it tonight. He had always been weird about her exercise routines and she was glad for them tonight. "Keep your eyes forward and crouch and roll... good, and again." His voice rang out from the past to her as she watched what had been her dad on the ground desecrated by the faceless and toothless beast. That was the trigger, the idea that the darkness would claim him was more horrible that watching him die. She had followed him into this alley, hid behind the dumpster and waited. She had planned on jumping out and surprising him, denouncing him, forcing him to go home. There was no real plan and how could there be, she had no idea what the truth was. That was until the oil began dripping up from the sewers. It seemed to hang in the air in front of her as it slowly formed around its eyes. Her father turned and hit it with a silver rod... no a sword?! Sarah had thought all of the items in her basement were another effect of her dads compulsive selfishness. Who needed some weird Star of David inscribed with Hebrew? Sure, Sarah had wanted it for the longest time, but it like everything else in her life was forbidden. Just more training, preform better, jump higher and go further. Now her father was attacking demons in an alley way at night. The world was insane. What made it her fault, her clinch that caused the monster to flow past her father like a wave hanging in air, was Sarah had stole the medallion that he had always worn around his neck. She had gotten back at him for his disloyalty. That was the thing that allowed her to survive in her corner watching, the oil seemed to avoid it, not that it was permanent, but instead it was enough to keep her alive. Her mind finally focused on the present and she thought about oil consuming her father and watched it, it was like he was disappearing into the oil, bite by bite. She had to do something, she couldn't let him go away. Standing slowly to her feet, the beast looked at her and started to growl, in a hollow impossible way. She was scared, more scared than any point in her life, but she held firm. Instead she kept her eyes forward and tucked and rolled, toward her fathers fallen sword. Sarah's father would have been proud as she grabbed the sword and swung it at the beast in a clumsy fashion. At the same time it's impossible body or tail crashed down behind her in a defensive posture, Sarah brought down the silver engraved sword on the beasts head and there was a brief sizzle as it contacted with the oily mass that composed the beast, knocking oil out of place and causing the the beast to shake and shimmer for a moment. There was a pause as she held the sword in the head, but the sword shattered at the last instant causing the beast to explode in a torrent of icky blackness. Grasping the hilt, Sarah, knelt by her father clutching at him. The other hounds surrounding her and circling like animals. Though they were not living in anyway that she could formulate, it was a standoff with the artifact, and maybe they could have over come it, but they had seen death. Finally they moved away in the distance of the toward the old oil works in the distance. Looking down at her father, she knew that she had to continue. "I'm sorry-" Was the only thing that escaped her lips. Training was over. quote:Character Sheet NPC Mark Young  Have you really had that person that was really into you, but didn't really click at all? They kept on pushing and what started out as an okay or a maybe became a hell no? That is this dude, he isn't a creep or stalker, just a loud mouthed person that doesn't get when someone isn't interested. I mean you feel bad for him a little because he seems to genuinely like you and poo poo, but really, who likes loving pokemon that is over the age of like 5? Seriously. OBSESSED. Totally. Taken an liking to Sarah, who pretty much rebuffs him in a way that is a definite no, usually with an arm twist and a throw. Location Messel Oil Refinery  Out side of town there an abandoned oil refinery. During the standard Oil break up, it was discarded as the company argued over the property with the other fractions of the monopoly. Eventually most of the equipment was sold and it was left to rot along the side of the town. As time went on it became a popular hang out for teens looking for privacy and thrills. That was till the death in 1963 of a George Myer in the refinery proper. Witnesses say that he was exploring the basement levels when he started screaming. He was found at the bottom of a pit with a broken neck. Since then it was mostly ignored. The owners whoever they are are well hidden as even county records are vague on the details for it. Axe-man fucked around with this message at 06:43 on Aug 12, 2014 |
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Aug 11, 2014 03:42
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GodFish posted:Shelly Partridge Sheet Honestly, I'm not particularly fond of this particular concept for this game. It sounds like something for an entirely different system, one focused far more heavily on pulpy action. I do like the reskinning of the Serpentine skin as a timetraveller, but the existence of a timetravelling police force, with operatives that take down super Nazis is just a bit too pulpy for this game, sorry. I'd probably welcome another variation on the Serpentine->Time Traveller theme, though.
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Aug 11, 2014 04:27
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AdjectiveNoun posted:Honestly, I'm not particularly fond of this particular concept for this game. It sounds like something for an entirely different system, one focused far more heavily on pulpy action. I do like the reskinning of the Serpentine skin as a timetraveller, but the existence of a timetravelling police force, with operatives that take down super Nazis is just a bit too pulpy for this game, sorry. Haha, that's fair enough. I'll see what I can come up with after work.
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Aug 11, 2014 04:44
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updated my bio with something more my style 
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Aug 11, 2014 06:01
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I've messed around with it a bit, does this version look like something you'd take?
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Aug 11, 2014 08:53
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GodFish posted:I've messed around with it a bit, does this version look like something you'd take? Yup! More questions! First Question: Shelly: So if you're really from the future, things must be so different over there. What's one difference between this time and the time you, uh, 'come from' that's really strange to you? Sarah: Eesh... to say that sounds rough would be a hell of an understatement. Can you tell me about a happier time in your life? Back before you knew the Town was so messed up? Second Question: Tyler: What does the future hold, for someone with your ability and confidence? Once school's over, what will you do then? Evie: Aside from drugs, what do you and your gang provide to the good people of Madison? Have you been expanding your operations, or sticking with what works? Walt: What questions were your neighbours asking, that made you and your mother so uncomfortable? Lily: How well do you know your dad? Has he ever shown you the lands of the Fae? What were they like? Lemuel: Does anyone else know what you think of the town? What do they think (or if they don't know, what would they think)? If they think differently to you, what makes you certain you're right and they're not?
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Aug 11, 2014 14:07
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The death of blossoms Is not something to grieve on But the way of things - Soteki Asakura 1474 - 1555  Hiroko Nakahara, the Heir (who is 17) I should start with my family, the famous Nakahara clan of Madison, Vermont. It sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? But, we've been in this town for a very long time. The family records say that our history dates all the way back into the Warring States period. Ancient, feudal Japan. Back when fealty and honor and family lines used to mean something, back when our family carried prestige, real prestige and privilege in a country that respected their worth and power. When the Emperor ended the Shogunate, he changed everything. He destroyed the way of the samurai! Our way of life! That's what my parents and their parents believe, at least. You and I know that the samurai are nowhere near as honorable and romantic as movies and anime will tell you. It didn't take much effort to dig deeper into a darker side of our history. How the Nakahara blood carried a despicable power within it, which only one heir in every generation killed for to acquire. Or how they used that power to inflict a reign of terror upon their land and subjects. They killed people, so many people, including their own kin, just for a scrap of that immortal gift. Nothing romantic about that. But, awful as that was, they had this perverse sense of pride for their way of life. I suppose I don't blame my ancestors for fleeing when the Emperor wanted to take their power away from them. I don't even blame them for moving here, in America, just to find place to live our way of life in peace. I mean, it's not actually bad here. It's quiet, and I hear it resembles a lot like our ancestral home, right down to the spooky forest. Peaceful. And my family has some pull around here, just by being one of the oldest ones around. Not enough to run the town, of course, but enough to get our own way. In example: getting me and my siblings into this new prep school in town. My parents planned to have us study in the city like they did, but they wanted to give this Madison Prep a try. I mean, it's closer to home. That means they would get to watch the trials for themselves. Oh. Well, yes. Trials. The oldest tradition of the Nakahara. Remember: we have a dark power in our blood. Only a single heir can inherit its full potential, and they can only take it alone. My siblings and I grew up knowing all this. We ate, slept, played Mario Party, even practiced blades in the dojo together, knowing that one of these days, we're going to find out which of us deserves the gift more. This is that day. And my parents look at me as if I'm the one who will come out on top this generation. I can't even tell you why they think that. I'm not the exactly the strongest, the wisest, or the most loyal of daughters here. But I've always been plucky. And I'm not bad with a tanto. That's apparently enough to make me a favorite and a target. My siblings might smile at me like they always do and treat me like their same, super-serious sister. But I already see the knives hiding behind their back. After hundreds of years, the traditions have never been broken. Six of us will die before I graduate from this school. Do I wish it didn't come to this? All the time. But like I said, this is our way of life. If I disappoint, I'm dead. quote:Look/Origin Location and NPC  People who visit Madison also tend to visit the Nakahara estate at some point, because they find the idea of a Japanese-style mansion in rural America so bizarre. Myself, I find it as home, but that's my opinion. Even if we prefer the isolation, my family loves to entertain tourists. We serve tea, give them a tour of the place, talk about our achievements in this town, send them on their way. It helps make us look eccentric and endearing than... you know, bloodthirsty warriors. Every so often, my parents hold important events here for town. The garden makes a good place to hold weddings and parties and other functions. Maybe an illicit deal or affair or otherwise. Himura-san does very good job in making the whole place beautiful, right down to the elaborate hedge art and rock gardens and waterfalls. Very romantic.  Isamu Himura and his family have served the Nakahara as vassals for centuries. Of course, we don't call them vassals anymore, but they still live in our home, protect the family, and offer my parents counsel when it comes to important matters. Himura-san, on his part, works in the estate as our gardener... and our weapons trainer. He pretty much lives up to the samurai stereotype, down to the robes and the reverence for honor and the tendency to draw a sword on any slight. He doesn't do much of the last bit these days. Age mellows even the hardest of us. If he's not working or training, he just sits in front porch and talks about how he fought this war and that war with nothing but his katana and bow. As far as I know, he has never been anywhere outside of Madison, much less Vermont. Sometimes, I wonder if some magic preserved him all the way back from the Warring States era. Mitama fucked around with this message at 01:02 on Aug 16, 2014 |
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Aug 11, 2014 15:57
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AdjectiveNoun posted:Walt: What questions were your neighbors asking, that made you and your mother so uncomfortable? Yeesh, cut right to the heart of some of my most personal matters why don't you. Alright, you'll get to hear the thing that I have never told anyone ever. I have a twin brother. Where we come form, well let's just say the family trees don't fork as often as other folk do, so, occasionally, you get a birth that is, well unsettling, an extra finger, a cleft lip, webbed feet, that sort of thing. It was an isolated farming community, what do you expect, and our particular little household had the good fortune to be wealthier then most, so most people knew who we were, even if they weren't particularly welcoming to us. Grandfather Whateley was an old coot, Mother wasn't all 'there' at times and I don't even know who Father was. And then one night, me and my brother were born. I was a little bigger then average. My twin brother was born a hideous, malformed monster. Not even a cripple, a monster I can not begin to imagine the look on mother's face when that, thing came out and she told everyone that he was stillborn, but that was definitely not what happened at all. We kept him in the basement, thought maybe, he was so deformed that he had some condition that would kill him. But he didn't die, he kept growing, bigger, and bigger, much faster then I ever did. And he was hungry, almost all the time, he didn't eat normal baby food, he ate meat, he was born with a mouth of razor sharp teeth, and the more we fed him, the bigger he got, and the more we had to feed him. And it got to a point, that it was getting really difficult to hide him in our manor, so we had to move him to our old farmhouse, started feeding him livestock when the cuts just weren't big enough anymore. And he continued to grow, and somehow get even more hideous. Then, the neighbors started to ask questions, not to us, but behind our backs. They were suspicious of us before I will admit, our family had a questionable history of uncertainty and strange happenings, but around that time, it was becoming more overt, less subtle, and much more difficult to conceal. They wanted to know why we kept buying their livestock, but our herds never seemed to grow, what Grandfather and Mother were doing late at night, where some pets went, why the farmhouse that we haven't used for years now has a gated fence around it, and several locks on the door. In short, it was getting dangerously close that our dirty little secret would be blown wide open for the whole world to see. So I left. On mother's orders, she pushed an acceptance letter into my hand for Madison Prep and told me 'Go'. So I packed my things, and I 'got the gently caress out of dodge' as they say. And now I am here, where no one knows me, and no one knows us. And you, will never mention this to anyone, or I will find you and I will be most, unpleasant when I do. TheNabster fucked around with this message at 00:27 on Aug 12, 2014 |
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Aug 11, 2014 16:31
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AdjectiveNoun posted:Lily: How well do you know your dad? Has he ever shown you the lands of the Fae? What were they like? Before I got sent here to my preppy exile, I saw him three or four times a month. One of his lackeys would show up and summon me to his court (not the Court where I might embarrass him in front of the dark elves or whatever -- just his personal one), and I'll get this weird semi-formal audience with him where I tell him how things have been going at school, who's been giving me poo poo, what I did to get back at them... that kind of thing. And he'll give me advice or a little bit of help if he feels like it, or chew me out if he thinks I screwed up. Sometimes he'll introduce me to one of my half siblings (there are loving hundreds of those), or tell me to do something for him. Nothing huge -- 'Give this flower to this old lady, tell me how she reacts', 'place this mark on this one particular tree in this one particular park', or, my favourite: 'cozy up to this redhead at rave and find out their secret.' I don't know. He's literally my father, but like... It's hard to think of him the same way I think of Norma and Ginny as my mothers (yeah, I call them by their first names -- 'mom and mommy' stopped being cute when I was 10). Like, he obviously cares about whether or not I do well, and I think he kind of likes me as a person, but I don't know if he loves me in the human sense. And even if he did, he didn't raise me. Sometimes it just feels like I have this weird elderly uncle who's taken a shine to me and sometimes buys me poo poo on my birthday. The actual lands of the Fae... uh... they're not super different from here? I mean, they are, but it's more about the feel of the place than your surroundings. Okay, you see that gas station over there? If we crossed over to the Land of Faery, it would still be there. Or something like it would still be there, and it would look sort of like a gas station. Distance doesn't mean a whole lot, and time passes weirdly, and everything's just a bit more vivid and colourful, but... a building's a building, a tree's a tree. Dad holds court on the 13th floor of this office building. In the human world it's all cramped little cubicles and fancy offices. In the Land of Faery, it's... well, some of the office stuff is still there, but most cubicle farms have less thrones made out of elm wood and hobgoblin skulls, you know? I guess the elves and pixies and whatever like to stick closer to the forests, but we tend to live where people are. No milk to sour without farmers, you know? Not that I go around souring milk. Only that one time in fifth grade, when Andy Doggett was about to take a drink from his chocolate milk. Homophobic little poo poo had it coming.
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Aug 11, 2014 17:13
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Marinette Nightingale So I killed myself earlier this year. What, you wanted me to start somewhere else? You wanted me to talk about my dick, didn't you? Well gently caress you, that's not what this is about. It exists. When I was born the doctor saw it and lied to everyone about what it meant. I've taken steps to correct the error. Now go gently caress yourself. Ok fine, maybe it was related. Maybe I couldn't handle it at the same school with the same kids I grew up with. With the whispers, the stares, the verbal and physical abuse, and to top it all off my parents being all 'well if you just started dressing like a boy again this would all stop' and I just AAAGGH! If you were in the same position I'm sure you would have taken a razor blade to your wrists, too. But that was the old me. You see, the doctors called it Attempted Suicide but I believe we've already established that they don't know poo poo. I succeeded, I went to the other side, and something over there said Nope, you're going right back where you came from. And it came back with me. Then I saw how stupid I'd been; there's nothing wrong with me, it's the rest of the world that has the problem. They should be the ones that suffer, not me. Anyway, my parents are shipping me off to some fancy prep school in Vermont. They say the change of scenery will be good for me, but I think they might secretly just want to get rid of me. Either way, it'll probably be nice to be hundreds of miles from anyone who knew me before. This time I won't take any poo poo from anybody. While I'm at it, I think I'll make these spoiled little rich kids lives' a little more interesting. They've had it too easy for too long. pre:Marinette, the Ghoul Look: Striking, Hash Eyes Origin: Rejected Hot -1, Cold 1, Volatile 2, Dark -1 Moves The Hunger You have a Hunger for chaos. When you heedlessly pursue a Hunger, add 1 to rolls. When you ignore a feeding opportunity, roll to hold steady. Disaffected When you turn someone on, roll with cold. Watchful Golem When you defend someone without them ever knowing about it, mark experience. Sex Move When you have sex with someone, add having sex with [this person] as an additional Hunger. If you already have this Hunger, mark experience. Darkest Self You will maim, kill and destroy anything in between you and the nearest object of your hunger. You will feed relentlessly. You escape your Darkest Self when someone restrains you or fends you off for long enough for you to regain your composure at least thirty or forty minutes. Your Backstory Someone reminded you what love was, when you thought that death had stolen it away from you forever. Give them 2 Strings. Did anyone watch you die, or watch you come back to life? If so, you both gain 2 Strings on each other.  The senior English Lit teacher at Mad Prep, Professor Peterson holds an unending enthusiasm for the material. No matter how stupid a comment you make during class, he will ask you to elaborate further. In fact, the stupider your comment, the more he will ask you to explain. This will continue until you either say something about the reading that makes the slightest bit of sense, or your bullshit reserves run dry. As for essays as tests, he likes to say There are no wrong answers, only poorly defended ones. There is also a general consensus, amongst students who lean that way, that he is the sexiest teacher in the humanities department, if not the whole school. Crestview Theater  The oldest, and technically only, theater in Madison. It was built before movies were even a thing, but has undergone several renovations over the years. It only has the one screen, so if you want to see the hot new blockbuster you'll have to drive to the multiplex in the next town over. But tickets at the Crestview are cheap, and they make an effort of have a variety of relatively recent movies for the after-school matinee. And, of course, they still have a stage when they roll the screen up, so you can also catch community theater or the occasional concert. Sometimes Mad Prep even rents out the space for a guest lecturer; attendance is, of course, mandatory for all students. ZiegeDame fucked around with this message at 22:35 on Aug 13, 2014 |
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Aug 11, 2014 18:01
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AdjectiveNoun posted:Second Question: I've never really thought about it. High school lasts forever, right? And besides, all the power and responsibility crap doesn't mean jack in the long run. I could, if I so chose, walk away from it all. Just vanish from Madison entirely and live a normal life. ...And yet, there's something I haven't really felt before. Magic is giving me direction in my life. I have a purpose now, a goal worth striving for. When your mom works 13 hours a day and your dad does his own thing, you hardly feel like your existence is worth any attention. That's why I slacked off in class. That's why I kept to myself. What did it matter, really? You called it "confidence," but all I was confident in was how little I meant to the universe. But now that I have magic, I know that the universe needs me. When I went to college (okay, so maybe I have thought about it), I was just gonna get a business degree and find some 9-to-5 office job to waste away in. But now that I have magic, there are possibilities. I could become an ecologist and keep the world in balance. I could be a psychologist like Jasmine and help people heal. Shoot, I could even become a professional witch. Who knows? Before magic, I'd never considered the brave new world that is adult life. But now... maybe there's a chance for me. But that's all for the future. For now, I have to try and survive high school. Ugh. The classes are hard enough, but the people here are awful. I have my little clique of friends I barely talk to; the rest of them can go burn their minds out on whatever weird drug-of-the-week they're smoking. ActingPower fucked around with this message at 18:16 on Aug 11, 2014 |
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Aug 11, 2014 18:12
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AdjectiveNoun posted:Shelly: So if you're really from the future, things must be so different over there. What's one difference between this time and the time you, uh, 'come from' that's really strange to you? Oh man, you have no idea. Basically everything is different. For one... Shelly holds up the half smoked cigarette and taps it, knocking some of the ash to the ground. I can't believe these things are legal here. Do you know what they do to your body? What, why am I smoking then? Oh, we fixed that stuff years ago, our bodies filter it all out. People stopped smoking at all I think back in the 26th century? But for some reason movies came back into style, and so smoking got all trendy-no I'm not just following the trend, they help me relax- and so some company started making them again. I can tell you, finding the open land to start growing the crops was a pain. Oh right! The strangest thing. Well, it'd have to be all this space. Back, I guess we can call it home to make this easier, back home, almost the entire planet is a massive cityscape now, most of it is above ground, in huge shining towers, but some of them go for miles underground, and think we actually power it by siphoning off heat directly from the planet's core. Like I mentioned for the tobacco, they started growing it on one of the rooftops that wasn't being extended upwards. Most of our food is grown in yeast vats or something. That actually is the best part about traveling (time traveling, duh) is that back here all of the food is natural. Or, semi-natural. You've never really tasted a hamburger (yeah I know, super processed) until you spent the first 15 years of your life eating yeast. That and all the space. I had some serious agoraphobia the first time I went back actually that's why I wear the sunglasses, they help make everything feel safely enclosed while still letting me see everything, but now I really enjoy being able to see the land stretch off to every horizon.
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Aug 11, 2014 21:38
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AdjectiveNoun posted:Evie: Aside from drugs, what do you and your gang provide to the good people of Madison? Have you been expanding your operations, or sticking with what works? I'll admit, dealing is my main game, but getting control of most of the vices around the city has been a goal. I'm party central, and that's why I'm here. Sure, it's not hard to get alcohol in a little shithole like this, but most of these rich shits don't want to talk to some townie to get them their liquor. I help them find what they need for a price that's fair. Looking to get more customers, make money on the real good stuff. Then again, some of these kids wants some name brand, three figure poo poo they're just gonna mix with orange juice and throw back up anyways. That's easy, though. You just meet someone to grab that stuff for you. Also, I got a place to party. Well, it's not mine, but there's this warehouse right outside of town, I call it the Glowhouse. Abandoned, and the guy who owns the place can't find anyone to buy it from him, so every once in a while, I sneak a bunch of people in there. I never even talked to the guy except that one time, pretending to be curious about some business class bullshit. Back to the spot, though. You take a few blacklights, some of that invisible paint, you make it look like whatever you want. I even can find a guy with a speaker system. Far enough out of town that the cops don't care much, plus they aren't too bright around these parts. Just call in some kids playing with fireworks on the other side of town, they're gone for hours. Outside of the party business, I'm extending into little things here and there. Anything involving money passing through hands and I wanna get my fingers into it. People selling homework, test answers, whatever. It isn't even just about the money. The money's just a symbol. I want the control. I want all the other students here to know that I know what they need, and if they can pay, they know where they can get what they need.
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Aug 12, 2014 05:44
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AdjectiveNoun posted:Sarah: Eesh... to say that sounds rough would be a hell of an understatement. Can you tell me about a happier time in your life? Back before you knew the Town was so messed up? Yeah, that is better. It is better not to dwell on things like that, you know? I had a really typical childhood. You know, did the whole figure skating and ballerina thing. Of course, I made it to the finals, but only second and third place respectfully. I mean, I guess, I was really competitive growing up thinking about. My dad always encouraged me to go for sports and always push myself to be the best. I kinda loved the idea personally, I wasn't very dainty, I was a huge tomboy growing up. I think that hurt my mom the most, cause I kinda adored my dad until I was like nine. I just didn't care about what she was interested in, and she was very traditional, all the way down to wearing dresses most every day and taking a job as a library assistant at the local library. I didn't care, I didn't want more dolls or tea parties. I wanted to be working for something, practicing baseball, going to track meets, anything to be out and doing something with myself. Thinking back, I do remember that one Christmas that I asked for a football, Mom did give me a teddy bear with a football helmet. I think she loves, but you know, it is hard to talk to her. She thinks this all a phase, when it is like, this just is how I am. There isn't going to be a day that I am going to be at home with like kids or something. I mean, I'm not saying like I won't have someone there, but I don't think all that bullshit is for me, okay? Really, looking back, I guess I don't talk to her at all anymore. We kinda just live in the same house, and I don't know why that is. Maybe Dad being so... distant caused that, but... oh happy things! Well, you know I can remember something good with my Mom, I once wanted to go to this concert, it was Shady Hawkins, and like no one else got to go. My mom though she got on her jeans and a tee shirt and went there with me. I remember the drive there, I thought it would be awkward and stuff, but you know it really wasn't. Looking back now, I liked it more than the concert and it was that drive that I learned what it was like growing up for her in the 1970's. I had not realized that she was like in the middle of all that stuff growing up and I know it sounds totally lame, but that was really cool. It was really cool. It was one of the best memories I have had ever I think. School well, I do well academically, and stuff I guess. I don't really pay much attention to it beyond grades and sports. I mean it all started last year when Stephanie Myer decided to spread rumors around school that I was really a boy wearing girls clothes. I swear, I beat her out of varsity track and basketball, and she like starts spreading rumors like that. Either way, I am sorry, but she can go gently caress herself. I get my revenge every weekend, when I come in first and she sits her fat ugly rear end on the bench. Really, sports are the best. Maybe, because my dad pushed me so much when I was little or something, but I just love kicking rear end, team, no team, it is all the same. If I am out there moving, it feels so much better than to just be sitting there debating if Joey Tenenbaum is going to go out with Millie Salvador.(Hello! He is totally not into her!) This rumor gave like most of my friends from high school to avoid me for a few months. Maybe summer will be better, I don't know, ugh. Most days, I just hang out and practice or do homework. Afterward, Mom is in bed and I am out the door, lately I've been chilling at Zoe McKenzie's place and bullshitting around. You know, it isn't bad, but we usually try to go out and get into clubs or concerts. It is really hard, since neither of us have a good fake id yet. Still it is fun to try, and sometime I am quick enough or can climb through a window and we can both get inside! I would say she is my best friend none the less, and without a doubt would say that without her, this year would be like completely miserable. I don't know what I would do without her at all this year. Like you know who your real friends are when the poo poo hits the fan, you know? She would be beyond any friend I've had at all. Hell, she kicked that loser Mark Young in the balls when he started creeping on me again. You know, maybe, things are better this way, I mean. If they believe some stupid slow idiot on the track team, then I guess they weren't really any friends I want at all. I might start talking to her about some real poo poo, maybe. Just maybe. That stuff is really heavy you know? I guess until my dad died, I really, was just normal, I mean pretty badass, but pretty normal. I don't know what the hell I am now, it isn't like my dad left a manual or some poo poo you know? NPC Mark Young Have you really had that person that was really into you, but didn't really click at all? They kept on pushing and what started out as an okay or a maybe became a hell no? That is this dude, he isn't a creep or stalker, just a loud mouthed person that doesn't get when someone isn't interested. I mean you feel bad for him a little because he seems to genuinely like you and poo poo, but really, who likes loving pokemon that is over the age of like 5? Seriously. OBSESSED. Totally. Taken an liking to Sarah, who pretty much rebuffs him in a way that is a definite no, usually with an arm twist and a throw. Location Messel Oil Refinery Out side of town there an abandoned oil refinery. During the standard Oil break up, it was discarded as the company argued over the property with the other fractions of the monopoly. Eventually most of the equipment was sold and it was left to rot along the side of the town. As time went on it became a popular hang out for teens looking for privacy and thrills. That was till the death in 1963 of a George Myer in the refinery proper. Witnesses say that he was exploring the basement levels when he started screaming. He was found at the bottom of a pit with a broken neck. Since then it was mostly ignored. The owners whoever they are are well hidden as even county records are vague on the details for it. Axe-man fucked around with this message at 06:46 on Aug 12, 2014 |
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Aug 12, 2014 06:44
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More questions in a bit, but first, Bonus Round: To give some questions from an additional perspective, I'm going to pair you guys off, to ask at least one question and receive at least one answer each, though you are of course free to ask more at your discretion. I'll also put, next to the pairings, a brief description of something I think would make an interesting conversation topic to start off with, but it's not ironclad - if you have something you want to ask your partner that's better than my suggestion, go for it! The pairs will be: Jenny/Shelly - one from the past, one from the future, both with perspectives that 'present' people can't ever really experience. Evie/Hiroko - you're both 'nobility' of a sort, but in rather different ways. Walt/Lily - You've both inherited powers as a family quirk, but it seems you couldn't be more different in how you use them! Sarah/Marinette - The world took something from you, and gave you the power to reshape it in return. Tyler/Lem - You're both natives of the town, right? Bet you have plenty to talk about. I will edit this post with questions in just a bit.
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Aug 12, 2014 16:23
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I have an idea for a werewolf variant, but I think it might be too silly. How serious is this game intended to be?
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Aug 12, 2014 16:59
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Mr Tastee posted:I have an idea for a werewolf variant, but I think it might be too silly. How serious is this game intended to be? About as serious as the corebook implies, I guess? I can't really give a good answer to that because I don't have much frame of reference, but if you post your basic concept, I'll let you know if it's too silly for this game.
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Aug 12, 2014 17:05
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AdjectiveNoun posted:Walt/Lily - You've both inherited powers as a family quirk, but it seems you couldn't be more different in how you use them! Meaning what, that I use them on people who deserve it, or that I actually use them for anything useful at all? As best I can tell, Wilbur Whateley here mostly just sneaks around eavesdropping and looks sketchy. Walt: So, come on, man -- tell me about a time when you actually just let someone have it. loving mauled someone, terrorised them when they deserved it, stole some kid's lunch money -- give me something interesting here. You can't really expect me to believe that you've never cut loose with whatever weird forest monkey poo poo you've got going on.
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Aug 12, 2014 17:09
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AdjectiveNoun posted:Tyler/Lem - You're both natives of the town, right? Bet you have plenty to talk about. (I've set this up as though the interviewer is going to tell Lem the question.) This... Lemuel guy. I do recognize that name, but I don't think I've interacted with him all that much. Maybe he was in the other Cub Scout pack, or maybe he was three rows in front of me in science class. I don't recall. From what I know about him from gossip and whatnot, he's uppity, self-absorbed, and thinks he's God's gift to mankind. He's the kind of guy who thinks he's perfect and wants the rest of the world to be perfect like him, like those religious weirdos that patrol the streets. You're right, I have lived here my whole life. Mom moved here from New York when she learned the stress of city life was literally killing her. Dad tagged along, as he does. After a while, they decided to stay here permanently. It might be a sleepy little town, but it does have its charms. That leads into my question for him. Go ahead and ask him this: "Madison isn't all that bad. What's there to like? What keeps you here, even if you do think it's a wretched hive of scum and villainy?" Wait, is he gonna get that reference? I can imagine he might not like those movies. If he found out Leia kisses her brother in the second one, he'd have a conniption. Hmm, maybe as another sub-part, you could ask something like, "Is there anyone here that you'd consider up to your level? Or is 'nobody righteous, not even one?'" Here, I'll even answer the first question myself. To me, Madison represents a world of broken dreams. People like my mom come here when what they really wanted to do bottomed out underneath them. And yet, despite all that, I find that the people of Madison have an honest sense of cheer. Come out to the harvest festival sometime (September 18, tell your friends) and see the genuine energy that everyone exudes. Stop by during our Christmas celebration, which pretty much lasts from the day after Thanksgiving 'til Groundhog Day, and see the life and joy that fills the air. It is, both figuratively and literally, magical. During that time, I feel so glad that I have to wonder why I would ever want to leave. Then the rest of the year rolls around, and I remember. Wait, if you share that with him, could you cut out the "both figuratively and literally" part? He doesn't know the whole "magic is inspiration and beauty" thing. ActingPower fucked around with this message at 17:57 on Aug 12, 2014 |
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Aug 12, 2014 17:13
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AdjectiveNoun posted:About as serious as the corebook implies, I guess? I can't really give a good answer to that because I don't have much frame of reference, but if you post your basic concept, I'll let you know if it's too silly for this game. Were-ogre. Like from Shrek.
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Aug 12, 2014 17:41
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Gazetteer posted:Meaning what, that I use them on people who deserve it, or that I actually use them for anything useful at all? As best I can tell, Wilbur Whateley here mostly just sneaks around eavesdropping and looks sketchy. I'm going to ignore that first statement. I'm not a violent person, I don't believe in petty vengeance. But fine, I will tell you the one most recent time that earned me a trip to the counselor for a bit. It's pretty obvious, but I'm a big guy, you don't grow to this height on a farm and not get some pure muscle bulk as a result. It keeps away most of the people who would otherwise use it as an excuse to try anything more then anything that doesn't keep them at a safe distance. There are always a few though, and this one gentleman, Horace Peterson, linebacker, steroid junkie, alcohol fiend, all around text book example of the worst parts of highschool football culture, and just a general oxygen thief. He was drunk, he was with friends who were as drunk as him, and I was the weird new kid that didn't talk to anybody so he tried to pick a fight. I ignored him, that must have really gotten his goat, so he swung the bottle he had at me and broke it over my head. Now, I don't lash out first, lashing out first never resorts to anything good, but at this point, I felt like I was well inclined to defend myself now. So I got up, and he threw another punch. I threw one back, I got a black eye and a sore head in the morning afterwards. The last I saw of him that night, there was a mound of bone and teeth where his jaw used to be. I am almost surprised I didn't get expelled for that stunt, but I think it might be because Horace was a piece of human refuse that the School was itching to throw out, but his father was on the council, so of course their hands were always tied when something reprehensible he did came up. It's not like the others even remembered who exactly threw that punch, I am pretty forgettable at times, so they all said Horace fell down an embankment and smashed his jaw on a rock. Well, I say they forgot, I might have, pushed them along a little in my own way. I regret the trouble it caused the school, I don't regret hospitalizing the man who attacked me with a weapon. I plead self-defense. Lily: Alright I let you see me when I forget myself. Now, how about a time you used your powers to help someone, for nothing in return. Not as some agent of self-righteous retribution, but in a non-violent, selfless manner. Is there such a time? TheNabster fucked around with this message at 23:16 on Aug 12, 2014 |
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Aug 12, 2014 17:44
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