@SwampCreature

Years back, when i was working thru some grief with the loss of a family member, i created a character who was a purely evil old hag cursed with madness at the end of her life to only do what is purely good. She wasn't "undead", but rather in the death throws: lifeless eyes, mindless convulsions, and could only say 3 words, which becomes her name to those who meet her. Somehow, she won't die, but she doesn't function as the living do. Something like "weekend at bernies" meets "Steven King's IT", but imagine if Female Danny Divito was Pennywise (without clown makeup), and although horrifying, can only act as a force of goodwill.

have fun i already play a wednesday table but i hope you all have a blast!

Foggy-minded from cryo-sleep, you try to picture where the extinguisher is mounted. The flashing lights and buzzing alarms are not helping the hibernation hangover. You have a brief image come to mind of an incident trying to experiment with a new recipe to add some flavor to an ‘impossible beef and mashed potato’ MRE.

“In the commons!” you jut aloud to yourself, noticing the stale cotton taste of years-old morning breath in your mouth. Yes. There it is; mounted above the Med-bay counter on the forward-facing wall of the latrine, starboard side.

It is a few steps away. You turn about-face from the engine room door and shuffle to it. A schematic is pinned next to the extinguisher mount in the med bay showing the exits of the ship. Glancing at it for a second clears the mind fog of hibernation just a bit.

Flashes of memories rush to you. Dr. Mergman assigned to you as co-pilot! Meeting Thames for the prisoner transfer exchange! The uncanny "substance X” that overrode your drone’s protocol directives to collect a classified sample! It's coming back to the front of your mind now!

However, this is no time for a "dear diary" moment just yet.

Wisdom prevails. Your training kicks in. Since you are already here, you prepare to arm yourself with whatever you can until you can make it to the arsenal below deck. You set the extinguisher on the ground, then you shuffle through the med bay first aid cabinet. Then the supply nook. You unzip the pocket in your thermal underwear and add one red flare, two glow sticks, a fist full of gauze, and a pack of wet wipes.

Almost hidden in the back of the nook, you find a Calibrating Access Node opener (CAN opener) with maintenance level clearance. You’ll need this to manually rewire the engine room door open. You grip it firmly in your hand.

Just as you step out of the supply nook, another loud THUD vibrates the hull with such force that the lights go dark and the artificial gravity shuts down, sending you and the extinguisher flying up towards the ceiling. You crack your head against the overhead compartment of the nook and momentum sends you in a backflip.

Gravity kicks back in momentarily... You drop, landing your head on the corner of the med bay bench. Your body falls prone on your back. Your stiff cold bones ache. You look up just in time to see nothing but the red of the extinguisher.

[Fade to black.]

Drops of blood pool like mercury as you slip in and out of consciousness. The flicker of flames from the engine room window cast them in silhouette, as they dance in and out of your blurred vision.

Malkovich:
All passengers please be advised. All passengers please be advised. All passengers please be advised. This is an Emergency Response System. Volatile organic compounds such as CO2, NOx, CO, SOx, and low molecular weight polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons of particulate matter have been detected in dangerously high concentrations in the ship's airflow system. All passengers should remain calm and seek an alternate source of oxygen or filtration until this matter is resolved.

@mianngu

Character Name: Fate Alcaps
Demon Species and/or Sin Choice: Jealousy/Greed
Appearance: Patrick Bateman
Personality Type: Negotiator, Car salesman. Talent manager.
Gender/Pronouns: He/Him
Position/ job/responsibilities: I work in the music industry. I influence crowds to affect the success or failure of our clients and their music careers.
Key Ability* : "Oppression" can change the mood of social situations from good to better, or bad to worse.
Goals: I want to get out of crowd work and into directly working with talent as a record label exec where I belong.
Secret: I fucking hate GenZ artists and their music and their fashion. It's vapid and pointless and has no soul. Any talentless hack can be a creator these days, not like in the Baroque period. Now that's what I call music!

@mianngu

As a DM, I like to pretend things are loosey-goosey and very improvisational when in fact I know the binary outcome that each campaign leg will culminate to.

I do not speak of a railroad, i just mean something must be solved in this chapter, and it's either pass or fail, each providing a best-case or worst-case scenario. Now, how we get there as a table is up to the players. But in simulation theory, fate is inevitably written on the 4th wall, and that is the illusion of choice I maintain with my players, and I think that ability to keep the scope wide enough for the cast to feel a sense of autonomy makes me a pretty good DM. I lead my players to a "Chekhov's gun" situation that I know someone has a spell for, and I act super surprised when they defeat me by simply paying attention to their sheet. They feel good when I act like I've been bested. It's a good tactic that has worked for me. That's my secret Tony, I'm always pretending to be aloof. Please don't tell my friends. lol

As a player, i can't help but see behind the curtain a little bit. And to answer your question, my experience is ruined when I try to think ahead in-character, always trying to be helpful in the suspense of the story by leading the DM where I suspect they are going, only to hit a narrative wall.

"The baddies knew we'd be coming this way... it's been too easy thus far... rogue... be mindful of traps! I will stand guard while you inspect the room"
(looks to DM with a big wink as to say: "hey let the rogue have a moment to shine by finding and disarming a trap with their superior skillsets. They haven't gotten to use their tools all campaign. Give us a lay-up!")

^this moment is crucial for me as a player, because a fun DM would throw us a bone. A fair DM would roll a d100 to improvise the possibility of my words being true, and a clueless DM would tell me i have something in my eye. All of which are fine by me...
...but the worst is when the DM had something planned, a real WOW factor moment that was scripted, and no matter how we anticipate it, or how good we roll, my 26 perception check at the door, the paladin's divine sense, the wizard's detect magic, and the rogue's 31 investigations will not prepare us for the hidden trap and stealth ambush that await us.

That's my first red flag. After strike 3, I usually stop taking notes, try to die, and when i can't die on the chain gang, i just come up with a reason to leave the party and roll a new character that is dum dum the barbarian, and i run into every trap headlong while nursing my beer.

My wife and I call it "Book club" or "Antpile vs magnifying glass." It's that moment where you realize you can't win, but you also can't surrender. Forgive my language but for lack of a better word, it's rapey. The DM doesn't want you to fight, but doesn't want you to go limp either. and for me that's absolute torture as a player.

my warforged didn't know how to swim, but i bravely tied a 50' rope to the ship and jumped overboard to fight the Kraken, announcing to pull me up when the job was done. Warfoged don't need to breathe, so drowning wasn't an issue.

the fight was over, and players started discussing next steps.

I silently crossed my arms and closed my eyes, and blew up my cheeks like i was holding my breath, leaning back in my seat. I stayed there for what felt like 10 minutes of players discussing their plans. 3 days pass in game. I started putting candy wrappers on my face as if seaweed was accumulating.

By the time they noticed I had been very quiet, the barbarian looks over at me and was like... "what is Kaj doing?" Then he goes "OH MY GOD we never pulled him back up!".

And then everyone cheered and clapped and hoisted me in the air singing songs of my glory. okay that last part wasn't real, but we all had a good laugh.

@Ezra
in an octagon cage match? a werewolf. Overall? vampires.

Excluding Ferals of each category, I think werewolves could balance nature by living in rural forests and hunting wild game. I think they are harder to kill in open spaces than vampires, but also more predictable like an animal. Their ravenous hunger would make it harder to conceal the hunt in congested communities, and if you go by "full moon" rules, most with the curse may be able to lock themselves up for the evening. Should they love the thrill of the hunt, they would most likely want to go somewhere they can't be trapped or stabbed by silver, and somewhere less likely to spread the disease and ruin their own hunting grounds. They would most likely focus on outsmarting hunting parties, and covering their mess when they aren't mindless beasts. Keeping a low profile for a werewolf seems safer overall for humans. They leave tracks and marks everywhere they go, making them most likely want to live an isolated existence for survival.

Vampires often need to live in more congested communities to feed without suspicion, and their hedonism makes large cities a prime target to feed on the debaucherous. Vampires can manipulate Thralls to hunt for them during the day. Since virgin blood seems to taste better than hobo blood, this organized crime structure would develop a human trafficking ring, and cultured vampires who live for long periods of time have the patience to develop such an enterprise. They would want a perversely artistic culinary experience after simple murder no longer appeases their taste. This is why vampires are far more dangerous: they are seductive and have aristocratic appeal, luring young onlyfans girls who wish to benefit. They have time to plot and plan and sow and reap, and the full faculties of a manipulative human mind to sit around all day and plot their future networks. A vampire keeping a low profile is far more insidious than that of a werewolf.

I've never shared this openly outside of close friends, but in 2017 my band signed a 2-year contract with a management company out of California after months of negotiations and airplane trips to meet each other, etc. Formed an LLC, got our ducks in a row. after a gig, we signed the contract on the bar of House of Blues parish room in New Orleans. one of the greatest days of my life. all my hard work was yielding fruit and forward progress. We needed to buy a van to travel/save money on longer distance shows, start doing weekend tours down I-10, and build fans from Atlanta to Austin. I found this conversion van in really good shape out of Texarkana. Took out a loan from the bank to go buy it that fateful weekend. Drive up, get in, drive back. That was the goal.

I'm in the middle of the highest high I've felt when it came to a sense of success. the future is now and I'm here to follow my dreams. it's been weeks of tension, fasting, meditation, and determination... I didn't know it then, but I was in a manic spiral of hyper-enthusiasm.

It was a Friday. I wake up extra early to go see the loan officer at the bank and finalize the loan paperwork and processing fees. go to work at 9 am. Then my coworker was called into the conference room at 10 am and they kept him for 2 hours. they NEVER call those types of meetings. Was he getting fired? was he getting a raise? wtf? We always go to lunch together on Fridays. When asked at lunch what the meeting was about, he shrugged and said "They just wanted to assure me my position was good."

"ok... well when will they pull me in to tell me that?"

"Oh... probably after lunch."

"ok cool. should I be concerned?"

"I'm sure they'll talk to you one on one and tell you what's going on"

go to lunch. uncanny feeling. go back to the office. staring at this check from the bank on my desk. thinking about my weekend. one of my bosses was supposed to give me details on a video project I was editing. when asked about it he mumbled something, avoiding eye contact, and shuffled his feet into his office closing the door.

it clicked. oh shit... I'm getting fired.

I walked in... "hey boss, see this check and info packet full of signed paperwork? yeah, well, I just took a big step. Took a loan and gonna buy a van this weekend for the band to start doing some roadshows. pretty cool huh? so uhhh listen... do I need to take this check back to the bank? because if I do, I need to go do it before the bank closes and the processing fees kick in.

my boss just removes his glasses and starts sobbing. like shaking kind of sob. a very VERY awkward wtf moment for me as his subordinate. "we're so sorry, but we've been paying you out of pocket for months now. We're in the red, and we gotta cut you loose." (The other guy had years of seniority on me, even tho i think they like me more. lol)

That manic spiral of hyper-enthusiasm I mentioned earlier? Knowing i would have to go from chasing my dreams, on top of the world, to, in a flash, having to figure out how I'm supposed to make rent and groceries every month.

dude... it was a crash like I've never experienced before or ever since. that season of my life aged me. ruined me in many ways and dug a hole I could not get out of for years. not long after all this, my wife was away on a work trip, and I had a mental black out one night home alone while watching TV and woke up in my underwear of the neighbor's bushes, puking and sobbing and confused but not knowing why i was crying. I cracked like an egg. if it wasn't for my wife getting me some help in that season i dunno what.

That was the best/worst day and season of my life (so far haha).

Permission to Speak Freely, Mr. Graves?

(Graves Gestures a shrug as if the idea of permission to speak is absurd)

Olster:
“I keep my head down and I’s do my part of the job. Iffit'n ain’t my bidness... I‘ont say nuthin’. That’s our agreement, the gods and I. Stables & Tables. Nuthin’ more. Nuthin’ less. I told you that when we signed up for Master Sibi's quest.”

(he musters his courage to speak freely, shifting tone faster than intended.)

“...But I’ll be DAMNED if they ain’t somethin’ funny goin on. And If no one else gone say it, I reckons I will.

(surprised at his own aggression, he doubles down.)

I heard rumors back in Bloomington, that a single Paladin wrangled a werewolf all by himself. ‘He’s either impressive… Or he’s full of shit.’ They words, not mine (he clarifies).

Full moon t’morrow night. Guess we gone find out. Better keep that silver spear close, Mr Graves.”

(Graves looks around cautiously for the Paladin Baelrun, but the glow of Baelrun's scar is nowhere to be seen. Olster gently places his knife under the horse’s jaw, pressing all his weight until there is a wet crunch, then twisting between the cartilage to get under the jaw, then through the neck in a swift well-rehearsed motion. The horse lets out a long final exhale. Its eyes roll back. There is an eerie peace as the wounded beast is laid to rest. Warm red steams on the ground. The sound of panting now replaced with cicada song.)

"Shhhh... Good girl... That'll do.”

(Olster’s Voice cracks)

“MoonShade was my gran-baby's favorite... Been thinkin’ lately... bout my gran-babies. Bet they be getting ready for bed right about now."

(He clears his throat and buries his pain as he stands. His knees pop with each step up.)

Johanna the Huntress:
(impatient)
"Come! We must build altar! We honor 'great spirit'! We remember all we lost. The gods? (She gestures frantically at the carnage strewn about) The gods ANGRY! We must make peace. If not, we die here."

Graves:
(Stoic. Looking for the right words to honor Moonshade and the other horses, Mr. Graves looks down into his folded hands and sees the seahorse tattoo on his thumb.)

“Horses of the land and sea are the most majestic of beasts. I will help build your altar. But first, I’ve gotta handle some business with a certain rat bastard!”

Olster:
(cleaning his knife on his handkerchief. Frustrated)

“It-not-just-him-no. Ya know that right? Forgive me Mr. Graves, if I’m speakin’ outta line, but you wanna pin allll this shit on one person to make it go away. Deep down you know it ain't true.”

(clouds darken the moon. A small campfire is lit, casting ominous shadows across Olster's weathered face.)

“They cut out the Rabbi’s tongue. Eyes too. Did ya know that, Mr. Graves? I spoke to ‘eryone when we made it back to camp. I ask ‘em all what happened. They says he screamed as they drug him into the woods. Screamed for help from ‘ery god he could name, but it was all mumbled, 'cause they done cut his tongue, ya see? The last name tho… the last name he called on they heard clear as day…”

(he mimics a scream dramatically, but only whispers)

‘BAAAAHRAY’ ... then all was quiet... (he gulps at the thought) ... 'cause they slit his throat. They made them beg for their lives Mr. Graves. Did you know that?”

Graves:
“I uh…”

Olster:
(interrupting)
‘course ya didn’t. Ya’ been barking orders ever since you been back. They. MADE. Them. Beg. You understand what I’m sayin’? This ain’t ‘bout bad blood no more! They came for YOU… and they came for HIM! (pointing to the tent where Bahray is already fast asleep.) ...But we weren’t here, so they made these poor people pay!”

(Graves can’t bring himself to look up from the fire)

Olster:
(gaining momentum in his rant)
“Whatever happened back at Almoc’s Tomb changed things in you Mr. Graves. A blind man can see that. Bahray too. Changin’ into the Rabbi like a mimic? ...It was damn disrespectful is what it was! He’s then gonna look at me and demand that I not burn anything at the altar until he finishes his rest?

(Olster quickly removes his blood-soaked riding gloves and reveals his blistered hands.)

(Sarcastically, to Mr. Graves)) Oh, forgive me, Mr. Bahray! Is it Mr. Bahray needs his sleep?! Is it Mr. Bahray needs comfort this night?!”
These are MY friends and MY babies and I done told Master Sibi what I'm goin’ do but he ain’t hearin me! He too obsessed to accept what happened here tonight; Thinks we can all just pack it up and keep moving. Me and Johanna and Miss Cita are gonna honor the gods tonight in the ole ways; The ways we know how!”

Cita Two-Spirit:
(Near catatonic, meanders between the two, oblivious to interrupting their conversation. She has a thousand-yard stare, and speaks indirectly towards the moon.)

"Our elven kind carries the spirits of our ancestors. I see them every time we close our eyes. This is our gift. Yet in this place, we cannot see my sweet Nedd.”

( Still in shock at her husband's corpse in the pile, Cita doesn’t skip a beat and continues to stumble forward into the dark. Olster removes his old hat from his balding head, out of delayed respect for the widowed traiteur, even tho she doesn’t notice or care.)

(The moon comes back out of hiding as if a spell were cast to halt Olster's tongue. The surrealness of it all now casts Olster’s gaze into the fire as well. He has said all he will say, tho he wanted to say more. There is a long somber silence. A single tear falls down Olster’s cheek, probably more for his horses than anyone else who died today. He snivels a moment, clears his throat, then spits phlem into the fire, as if spitting all his emotions out with it. His stone-cold face flickers in the warmth of the light.)

Graves:
(with pondered intent)
“I understand now, Stablemaster. Tonight we do things your way. We take care of our people first. We mourn our loss. THEN, we get to the bottom of this. All of it. It ends tomorrow.”

Shaunty Memaw is a shriveled elderly woman who sleeps on the back porch of a pavilion cafeteria called "Memaw's Kitchen". The cafe is located on the south side of big-town (comparable to new orleans), in a fantasy world setting.

Chef Gus (that's me!) runs the cafe with his staff (that's you!).

Gus:

The cafe, albeit quaint, is by reservation only and is booked for years to come. Some people make it a pilgrimage and travel far and wide just to eat at Memaw's. What makes this hole-in-the-wall mom&pop diner so appealing? Well, Memaw is a traiteur and a medium. Although it may look like she does nothing but sleep, she is hard at work adding a bit of magic to each meal. When a customer places an order, they confess their hopes, dreams, and desires to Memaw, and it's the job of the staff (that's you) to make those dreams a reality, through a multi-course meal that requires special ingredients, concentration, and meditation. It takes a bit of voodoo, and a lot of imagination to create these meals.

You are the kitchen staff that bears the responsibility of creating each dish. You can share responsibilities, or, take on a single dish. It's your job to craft these dreams for the customer. Be careful tho: sometimes you can get lost in your own thoughts while serving dreams to others. Distractions can ruin a dish. As a culinary dream artist, you each have your own style and personal background that flavors your creations. If you aren't careful, you'll go too far into your own dreams, recycle used assets, or take too many creative liberties against the customers' wishes.

Memaw has 3 rules written above the entrance.
No Cussin'
No Fussin'
No Lust'n

Gus runs a tough kitchen, and you'll need a thick skin to make it through the day. Understand that Gus wants happy customers, and you both get paid very well to make that a reality. You are the best of the best in fantasy culinary arts. Gus knows this. You should know this too. Do NOT get in the way of your own greatness as an artist.

Before Gus starts assigning dishes to you, you must first clock in for your shift. Introduce yourself. Remember not everyone in the kitchen has to be a dream designer, you can fill other roles too if you wish:

Character Name:
Fantasy Race:
Appearance:
Personality Type:
Gender/Pronouns:
Kitchen Role/job/responsibilities:
Favorite Hobby:
Major Fear:
Major Flaw:
Life Goals:
Secrets:

Guest list and guest conflicts are now available:

"Lily The Dancer" - A shy, introverted woman named Lily who dreams of being a graceful ballerina. In her dream, she is the star of a beautiful ballet performance, dressed in a flowing white tutu and twirling effortlessly across the stage. "The Dancer" - Lily has suffered an injury and can no longer dance. Her dream of being a ballerina is bittersweet, as it reminds her of what she has lost.

"Max The Inventor" - A nerdy, bespectacled man named Max who dreams of creating the world's greatest invention. In his dream, he is in his laboratory surrounded by gadgets and gizmos, tinkering away at a groundbreaking invention that will change the world. "The Inventor" - Max has been laid off from his job and is struggling to make ends meet. His dream of creating a groundbreaking invention is tainted by the stress of his financial situation.

"Jake The Superhero" - A muscular, confident man named Jake who dreams of being a superhero. In his dream, he is flying high above the city, his cape billowing behind him as he saves innocent people from danger. "The Superhero" - Jake has recently lost a loved one and is grieving deeply. His dream of being a superhero is colored by his feelings of loss and sadness.

"Maya The Explorer" - A rugged, adventurous woman named Maya who dreams of exploring new and exotic lands. In her dream, she is trekking through a dense jungle, discovering ancient ruins and exotic animals at every turn. "The Explorer" - Maya has been diagnosed with a chronic illness and is facing limitations on her physical abilities. Her dream of exploring new and exotic lands is tinged with a sense of longing for what she may never be able to experience.

"Alex The Musician" - A talented musician named Alex who dreams of performing on stage in front of a massive crowd. In his dream, he is playing his heart out on his guitar, belting out a beautiful song that moves the entire audience to tears. "The Musician" - Alex has recently gone through a painful breakup and is feeling heartbroken. His dream of performing on stage in front of a massive crowd is complicated by his feelings of loneliness and heartache.

"Sophie The Writer" - A creative, introspective woman named Sophie who dreams of writing the perfect novel. In her dream, she is sitting in a cozy library, surrounded by books, penning the next great American novel. "The Writer" - Sophie has been struggling with writer's block and is feeling creatively drained. Her dream of writing the perfect novel is challenged by the pressure she is putting on herself to be perfect.

"Marco The Chef" - An ambitious, passionate chef named Marco who dreams of creating the ultimate dish. In his dream, he is in his kitchen, creating a complex, multi-layered dish that wows diners and earns him accolades from critics around the world. "The Chef" - Marco has been criticized by a food critic and is feeling insecure about his abilities as a chef. His dream of creating the ultimate dish is colored by his fear of failure.

"Emily The Romantic" - A hopeless romantic named Emily who dreams of finding true love. In her dream, she is walking hand in hand with her soulmate, surrounded by rose petals and twinkling fairy lights. "The Romantic" - Emily has recently been through a messy divorce and is feeling disillusioned about love. Her dream of finding true love is complicated by her feelings of bitterness and betrayal.

recently discovered Planet of Lana OST. good stuff.

@Ezra
I was always the dumper, never the dumpee. I've heard "no thanks" plenty of times, and I've been on dates that had no chemistry, but i never was dumped from a long-term relationship. HOWEVER! I did get suckered into a pseudo-science health cult a month ago and two days before my first appointment it was canceled and refunded because the doctor couldn't hold up under the tiniest bit of skepticism from my intake form.

I gotta say it didn't feel good, and I didn't have a chance to defend myself. I now know it is quackery because if the doctor believed in his results, he would just laugh and say " In my defense, we get that all the time. but come on in and I'll show you real results". Even knowing this, it still stings even after dodging the bullet of paying for false goods. i haven't exercised or eaten well in 2 weeks because of it, and i learned rejection has a lot of power over me, especially rejection that alters my plans and future goals.

I hope there is a metaphor in there for you somewhere. Maybe if something is worth fighting for it doesn't hurt so much to look at it under the microscope because you know any flaws noticed are worth the risk and assessment and skepticism, but if it's all a facade then it crumbles under the tiniest bit of pressure. So while it hurts now, i hope you'll see the bullet you dodged. And if you are the bullet that was dodged, i hope you have the insight to take the aftermath and turn ashes into diamonds; to be a better bullet in cupid's quiver.

I've never shared this openly outside of close friends, but in 2017 my band signed a 2-year contract with a management company out of California after months of negotiations and airplane trips to meet each other, etc. Formed an LLC, got our ducks in a row. after a gig, we signed the contract on the bar of House of Blues parish room in New Orleans. one of the greatest days of my life. all my hard work was yielding fruit and forward progress. We needed to buy a van to travel/save money on longer distance shows, start doing weekend tours down I-10, and build fans from Atlanta to Austin. I found this conversion van in really good shape out of Texarkana. Took out a loan from the bank to go buy it that fateful weekend. Drive up, get in, drive back. That was the goal.

I'm in the middle of the highest high I've felt when it came to a sense of success. the future is now and I'm here to follow my dreams. it's been weeks of tension, fasting, meditation, and determination... I didn't know it then, but I was in a manic spiral of hyper-enthusiasm.

It was a Friday. I wake up extra early to go see the loan officer at the bank and finalize the loan paperwork and processing fees. go to work at 9 am. Then my coworker was called into the conference room at 10 am and they kept him for 2 hours. they NEVER call those types of meetings. Was he getting fired? was he getting a raise? wtf? We always go to lunch together on Fridays. When asked at lunch what the meeting was about, he shrugged and said "They just wanted to assure me my position was good."

"ok... well when will they pull me in to tell me that?"

"Oh... probably after lunch."

"ok cool. should I be concerned?"

"I'm sure they'll talk to you one on one and tell you what's going on"

go to lunch. uncanny feeling. go back to the office. staring at this check from the bank on my desk. thinking about my weekend. one of my bosses was supposed to give me details on a video project I was editing. when asked about it he mumbled something, avoiding eye contact, and shuffled his feet into his office closing the door.

it clicked. oh shit... I'm getting fired.

I walked in... "hey boss, see this check and info packet full of signed paperwork? yeah, well, I just took a big step. Took a loan and gonna buy a van this weekend for the band to start doing some roadshows. pretty cool huh? so uhhh listen... do I need to take this check back to the bank? because if I do, I need to go do it before the bank closes and the processing fees kick in.

my boss just removes his glasses and starts sobbing. like shaking kind of sob. a very VERY awkward wtf moment for me as his subordinate. "we're so sorry, but we've been paying you out of pocket for months now. We're in the red, and we gotta cut you loose." (The other guy had years of seniority on me, even tho i think they like me more. lol)

That manic spiral of hyper-enthusiasm I mentioned earlier? Knowing i would have to go from chasing my dreams, on top of the world, to, in a flash, having to figure out how I'm supposed to make rent and groceries every month.

dude... it was a crash like I've never experienced before or ever since. that season of my life aged me. ruined me in many ways and dug a hole I could not get out of for years. not long after all this, my wife was away on a work trip, and I had a mental black out one night home alone while watching TV and woke up in my underwear of the neighbor's bushes, puking and sobbing and confused but not knowing why i was crying. I cracked like an egg. if it wasn't for my wife getting me some help in that season i dunno what.

That was the best/worst day and season of my life (so far haha).

@Ezra said in Rolling stories! Keep it going!:

So are you coming or not choom?" he asked as I went to rub the base of my throat, catching myself once I remembered what was on my gloved hand.

"Yes, well no... i mean... "

The Bicentennial Paradox celebration started Thursday and lasts all weekend, but tonight was the night it was all going down. "6 strings to Yuma" was out of retirement for one last show, headlining the main stage at the Barns&Noble Egoplex Racetrack and Casino, and Zeke would never let me live it down if i missed it.

"... I mean I have to finish logging these new data sets before the nanoplasm bonds with the-"

"noooo. I already finished logging the data sets this morning and your OCD ass won't sign off on it until it's triple-checked. I already ran the logs thru chatGBT. It's a clean code choom. What's got you on the fritz?"

"Fritz? Zeke, do i need to remind you why two-step-code-walking the logs with human eyes is now protocol? The literal MINT it cost R&D to reset your last fiasko?"

"yeah yeah yeah cool cool I fucked up, you didn't snitch, the suits cracked down and nowwwww... it's time to go see '6 strings to Yuma'.

"What is it with you and this geezer ass freakshow anyways?"

"Whatdoyawant me to say? Deadass a motivating backstory fleshing me out as a three-dimensional character? If I told some tragic NPC bullshit trauma dump about my mom dying in a car crash when i was a little boy but she loved '*Yuma' and that was our special thing, would it get you to clock out?

"No."

"And second of all..."

"I talked to your mom at your birthday"

"And second of all..."

"First of all you never said there was a first of all."

"And second of all I'm gonna pretend that you didn't just call '6 Strings to Yuma' a geezer ass freakshow. Geezer yes. Freakshow... also yes. But ass? It's like I don't even know you anymore."

"You're already high."

"And we're already late."

"Ugh Can't I just send a surrogate and VR when I finish? you know I don't like crowds."

"Jay Vito was my childhood crush; I jerked it to his poster. "All Smiles and Bile Piles" is one of the greatest rock albums of all time. The Bicentennial Paradox celebration is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to celebrate the discovery of the kaleidoscope. The nanoplasm won't bond to the neural inhibitor for another 72 hours. All dialogue options are the same cutscene no matter what you say, and I wanna eat funnel cake with my best friend. So pick from any-of-those-reasons-I-don't-care-which. Just take the goo gloves off, and LET'S FUCKING GO!

"You're an enabler you know that?"

Zeke just smiles with a playful grin as he takes my keycard from my coat pocket and clocks out. "oops"

"You really jerked it to Jay Vito?"

"Charlie Charming I don't know how to say this so I'll just say it... I want a divorce."

"OMG let's just go!"

"I'm serious"

"Okay now I'M waiting on YOU."

Zeke always knew how to cheer me up. I could use a break, and he was right. I'd be in my seventies by the time the next Paradox Celebration comes around. Sure, big crowds aren't my thing, but you only live once, and deep down I was excited to get a chance to witness the Kaleidoscope. I just wish I could tell him who I really was. If anyone would understand, it was Zeke.

have fun i already play a wednesday table but i hope you all have a blast!

@Ezra did you make the finals?

any CRPG that could switch between first person VR roleplay and top down combat would be stellar. if i have to name a title, Baldur's gate 3 could be a lot of fun with a party of friends.

@Ezra
well said. I think in gaming culture there is a lot working against the writers. Deadlines, fitting the world around the technology and core gameplay concept. Making the story lucid enough for end game or replayability, target demo age range being too wide, a minefield of stereotypes to avoid offenses, stock holders and corporate suits just wanting what more of what is already proven to work, using world lore to place forced importance on cosmetics thru microtransactions... it's probably not bad writing, just too many hoops for good writers to jump thru.

games pad out time to do things like it's a good thing, stretching a 20-hour game into 100 hours of fluff, and marketing it as a selling point.

Also, lazy writing troupes such as:

• sky beams of inconsistent unmeasurable power,

• the girl whose blood/memory/yoni is key to everything

• scopes of complexity beyond fathoming placed on the shoulders of the protagonist (you must save the world... no! the universe... in the first title, also... we're greenlit to asset flip for a sequel, so in part 2 you'll have to save the multi-verse!)

• BBEG is just a misunderstood serpentine leather daddy and we were the bad guy patsies all along. Right and wrong, good and evil, don't exist; only shades of gray and you should feel bad believing in your capitalist institutions. Obi-Wan never told you what happened to your father. that'll be $70 plz (DLC not included).

• Stories written by committee say nothing of discernable value, in attempts to be all things to all people, therefore becoming nothing to nobody. i believe ( i know nothing) this happens when the marketing dept is given a loose idea, write some generic tripe for an announcement trailer, then the devs have to hire writers for the story after the gameplay or technology concept is established, including the replayability, and the international sales concerning eastern and western cultural inclusion. you want skybeams? because this is how you get sky beams! haha

^ saying all this doesn't help my contest submission, since i followed every trope in my own story. but that was sort of the point. it's written in our DNA and baked in our zeitgeist.

@Ezra
If were talking Michael J Fox as teen wolf, hired as a hitman to take on the mob, then yeah, that's a different story.

We'd need to establish some world lore rules before truly knowing. Like does sunlight burn a vampire or just make their skin sparkly?