Current
Lots of ideas, voices in your head? You may not be schizo, just need to find a plot and start writing.
7
likes
10 days ago
Movie Studios don't use AI to generate scripts because they're not copywritable. My writing is mine, not the world's to play with.
3
likes
11 days ago
I've no idea what is meant by everyone being a "southern cowboy".
2
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28 days ago
I like that the Amish gives their kids a chance to decide if they want to stay in their parent's religion.
1
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2 mos ago
"Badgers?" he said, sweating as he heard gun hammers being cocked unseen behind him. "We ain’t got no badgers. We don’t need no badgers. I don’t have to show you any stinkin' badgers!"
4
likes
Bio
I am a seven-foot tall minecraft-playing hindu guru drag-queen alien.
Possessor of an Ancient Device™ Model 17. No, I don't know what it does. No, you can't play with it.
Pronouns: It. As in: "What is it? What does it want? Why is it here? Oh my god, it's got my... <insert random body part or object here>"
Likes: World Domination, Writing, Rpg, scifi/fantasy, anime, sketchup 3d models, and anime music videos.
Companions: a host of characters from other games, my personal muse Penny (as in Bad), and the Badger gang - Toothpick, Buttons, Shark, and Mongo. They grew up in the balcony of an old theatre that played a lot of gangster movies. Normally benign, but may invade the OOC forums.
Name. Name? A frown so faint that it might have been imagined teased the left corner of her mouth. Was this a diagnostic check?
"My designation is niner-six-wun-six-niner," Niner replies, looking up at Dex. "The Brain was to penetrate the security of target Alpha-Zero-Wun-Ait-Tree without triggering the Black Intrusion Countermeasure Electronics, and this cell was to extract file Bravo-Zulu-zero-zero-zero-wun. Extraction was at fow-er-too percent when I was removed offline. Without extraction, the intrusion countermeasure electronics would have come back on line within too-wun seconds."
Niner tilted her head. "I do not hear the Brain, I do not hear the cells.... Why?" her voice wobbled for a moment. "Why am I offline?"
Name: Niner Gender: Female Refresh: 3 Description: This serious young woman makes you think of an industrious ant. She has large black eyes that are like two drops of oil. Her luxurious, straight, coffee-colored hair is worn as a pixie cut (it hasn’t grown out much).. She is short and has an elegant build. Her skin is china white. A red number 9 is tattooed on her shoulders, and there's four cybernetic neural ports on the back of her neck. She has high cheekbones. Her wardrobe looks like it came from a sketchy lost & found bin.
She's sometimes referred to as reserved, others call her an ice queen. The truth is she's unused to emotion or expression, so appears unfazed by what's going on around her. In truth, strong emotions confuse her.
Approaches:
Good (+3) at: Sneaky - when trying to bypass security of a corporate network without triggering Black ICE.
Fair (+2) at: Clever - good at puzzles and 3d games
Average (+1) at: Quickly - when she need to react to some task
Mediocre (+0) at: Force - cut off from her array, she is now… One.
Aspects:
High Concept: 9th generation cloned biologic component of an illegal living processing array - a "brain cell" - who was rescued from it.
Trouble: The Silence, isolation
Want: To Understand Humans
Relationship: Alone
Extra:Four high-security data ports on the back of her neck.
Stunts:
Because I am a Ex Processing Node, I can gain a +2 when Carefully Attacking when hacking or otherwise digitally manipulating a system.
Because I am at Home in the Extranet, once per session/chapter I can state I digitally found something that could help me solve a problem (or automatically Succeed with Style when Creating an Advantage during opposition).
Trivia:
An interest in historical dramas
Writing Sample:
Movement.
A fist, pounding on glass, the sound booming. Someone is hammering on a glass wall in front of me and yelling something but it’s so hard to hear. I draw breath, dimly aware of the cold fluid filling my lungs and yet I can still breathe. It had frightened me before…
…the voices in my head clamor, demanding my attention. So many voices, so many things to do. Calculations fill my head, bits of conversation all around me, droning on….
Movement again. Two people arguing and waving at me…. Voices calling me back…. Numbers flash in front of me, line after line and it’s my voice as part of the rest, chanting numbers into the darkness….
Breaking glass and pressure that had been a part of me for so long falling away while the voices in my head scream shrilly as I sag limply, held in something. A hand slaps me but there’s still fluid in my lungs and there’s no more air… I can feel the liquid in the back of my throat but only a little spills out and my lungs are so heavy and there’s no more air….
..and suddenly I’m free, gravity pulling me to the ground and I convulse, spewing liquid from my lungs in sudden silence onto the cold tile floor. I manage to gasp and a little air gets inside me, I can breathe…!
“Is she ok?”
“I don’t know,” someone snaps, “I’ve never ripped anyone out of something like that before!”
Things are being pulled off of me, out of me – and then someone rolls me over onto my back, leaving me staring up at a blurry light. A shadowy figure leans over me as I cough and shiver.
“What’s wrong? Is she dying?”
“She’s cold! You do your job and let me do mine, alright?”
“Tara? Can you understand me?” Fingers pry open my eyelids and I stare back at the blurry. “We’re here to rescue you – do you understand?”
Rescue? Tara?
My left cheek stings hotly again. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” he says again, loudly. I manage to nod, drawing my arms across my chest. Hand sit me up, then wrap me in something dry and warm before hoisting up and over a shoulder, giving me a strange view of the floor.
“Do you think you should carry her like that…”
“We don’t have time for this! She’ll survive. We won’t if we don’t get going!”
Someone opened a door, letting in the acrid smell of smoke and the sound of alarm and scared people.
“This way,” someone said, as I bounced on my rescuer’s shoulder and stared vacantly at the dense beige carpet and a pair of heels in motion. Another doorway slammed open and carpet gave way to dim light glinting off of concrete stairs – and then there was grass.
“I got a serious trauma, I got to get to my rig!” my rescuer yelled, the grass twisting around dizzyingly, then hands lifted me off his shoulder and onto a soft bed. Faces half-familiar leaned over me as they tightened straps over my body and I was lifted into the back of a waiting ambulance. Doors slammed and someone next to me said, “Let’s get going before they realize!”
“What… going on?” I managed as we lurched into motion. “It’s ok Tara, you’re out of there.” “Out of where?” “Is something wrong with her?” “Naw,” my rescuer snorted from somewhere up front. “She’s just confused. Sorry little lady, but we just pulled you out of the Internet. Your employer was using your brain for a server.”
As the giant bird lurched into motion, Jase desperately tried to cling to the beast, but was flung off. Fortunately, he managed to hold onto his blade, now bloody from the bird.
The landing knocked the air out of his lungs. Jase struggled silently for a moment, black dots filling his vision when he managed to draw in a small gasp of air. Exhaling, he was able to draw in lungs full, then launched into a coughing jag. As it passed, he laid there, focused for the moment on himself, on breathing.
He was definitely too old for this, no matter how young he looked on the outside now.
Jase fumbled for a moment, then managed to push himself upright. "Where's... our knight?" he managed to wheeze, not seeing her or the bird.
...The bird had her, he reaized. Somebody really wanted them to walk into the woods. But he wasn't going to do much with just this blade.
Massive cables anchor the floating college town of Caltek to the shore that was once known as Pasadena. To get to the city, one must ride a "cable car" that moves inside the massive cables, but one must have either a Caltek medallion or a curious document known as an "Acceptance Letter."
It is said many hope to become professors and gain permanent residency status know as "tenure." Those that fail find themselve exiled to the surface.
As to how Caltek stays suspended in the air, it's whispered to be the result of contragravity generators. Few on the island or below seem to understand it, leading to doomsday whispers of "the big splash."
This is a bar in the remains of Old Pasadena, said to be the unofficial watering hole for those expelled by Caltek. The walls are covered with chalkboards and many formulas and equations, chief among them the enimatic e=mc².
Name: Niner Gender: Female Refresh: 3 Description: This serious young woman makes you think of an industrious ant. She has large black eyes that are like two drops of oil. Her luxurious, straight, coffee-colored hair is worn as a pixie cut (it hasn’t grown out much).. She is short and has an elegant build. Her skin is china white. A red number 9 is tattooed on her shoulders, and there's four cybernetic neural ports on the back of her neck. She has high cheekbones. Her wardrobe looks like it came from a sketchy lost & found bin.
She's sometimes referred to as reserved, others call her an ice queen. The truth is she's unused to emotion or expression, so appears unfazed by what's going on around her. In truth, strong emotions confuse her.
Approaches:
Good (+3) at: Sneaky - when trying to bypass security of a corporate network without triggering Black ICE.
Fair (+2) at: Clever - good at puzzles and 3d games
Average (+1) at: Quickly - when she need to react to some task
Mediocre (+0) at: Force - cut off from her array, she is now… One.
Aspects:
High Concept: 9th generation cloned biologic component of an illegal living processing array - a "brain cell" - who was rescued from it.
Trouble: The Silence, isolation
Want: To Understand Humans
Relationship: Alone
Extra:Four high-security data ports on the back of her neck.
Stunts:
Trivia:
Writing Sample:
Movement.
A fist, pounding on glass, the sound booming. Someone is hammering on a glass wall in front of me and yelling something but it’s so hard to hear. I draw breath, dimly aware of the cold fluid filling my lungs and yet I can still breathe. It had frightened me before…
…the voices in my head clamor, demanding my attention. So many voices, so many things to do. Calculations fill my head, bits of conversation all around me, droning on….
Movement again. Two people arguing and waving at me…. Voices calling me back…. Numbers flash in front of me, line after line and it’s my voice as part of the rest, chanting numbers into the darkness….
Breaking glass and pressure that had been a part of me for so long falling away while the voices in my head scream shrilly as I sag limply, held in something. A hand slaps me but there’s still fluid in my lungs and there’s no more air… I can feel the liquid in the back of my throat but only a little spills out and my lungs are so heavy and there’s no more air….
..and suddenly I’m free, gravity pulling me to the ground and I convulse, spewing liquid from my lungs in sudden silence onto the cold tile floor. I manage to gasp and a little air gets inside me, I can breathe…!
“Is she ok?”
“I don’t know,” someone snaps, “I’ve never ripped anyone out of something like that before!”
Things are being pulled off of me, out of me – and then someone rolls me over onto my back, leaving me staring up at a blurry light. A shadowy figure leans over me as I cough and shiver.
“What’s wrong? Is she dying?”
“She’s cold! You do your job and let me do mine, alright?”
“Tara? Can you understand me?” Fingers pry open my eyelids and I stare back at the blurry. “We’re here to rescue you – do you understand?”
Rescue? Tara?
My left cheek stings hotly again. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” he says again, loudly. I manage to nod, drawing my arms across my chest. Hand sit me up, then wrap me in something dry and warm before hoisting up and over a shoulder, giving me a strange view of the floor.
“Do you think you should carry her like that…”
“We don’t have time for this! She’ll survive. We won’t if we don’t get going!”
Someone opened a door, letting in the acrid smell of smoke and the sound of alarm and scared people.
“This way,” someone said, as I bounced on my rescuer’s shoulder and stared vacantly at the dense beige carpet and a pair of heels in motion. Another doorway slammed open and carpet gave way to dim light glinting off of concrete stairs – and then there was grass.
“I got a serious trauma, I got to get to my rig!” my rescuer yelled, the grass twisting around dizzyingly, then hands lifted me off his shoulder and onto a soft bed. Faces half-familiar leaned over me as they tightened straps over my body and I was lifted into the back of a waiting ambulance. Doors slammed and someone next to me said, “Let’s get going before they realize!”
“What… going on?” I managed as we lurched into motion. “It’s ok Tara, you’re out of there.” “Out of where?” “Is something wrong with her?” “Naw,” my rescuer snorted from somewhere up front. “She’s just confused. Sorry little lady, but we just pulled you out of the Internet. Your employer was using your brain for a server.”
“Who is Tara?” I asked, shivering.
My writing sample is from a story I wrote a while back. Still working out some of this. Do you recommend an artist?
This man makes you think of a clockwork mechanism. His right eye is blue, while there's a knife scar running down from his left eyebrow to his cheek, giving him a clouded eye and a permanent smirk. His thick, straight, midnight black hair is worn in a style that reminds you of a rocky outcropping. He is tall and has a wide-chested build. His skin is tanned. His wardrobe is classy, very business-type.
His injury came from one of the scavengers who lived in Old Town. Justin had come up from behind and when he touched their shoulder, they reacted by turning and slashing downward, cutting the mayor's face.
@Expendable Does this town have a name? And do you have an idea of where it is?
Ruin City is its current name. It's in what used to be Nevada, but it's northwest of Las Vegas. Could be Carson, could be Reno, or some unincorporated town that isn't on most maps. The shakes did a lot of damage to roads and road signs - the city itself may have shifted somewhat. It's been a long while since anyone said the original name.
After the collapse of the high-rises, this town used bulldozers to move the rubble to form high walls around the heart of their town, forming four quarters with the town hall in the center. There's still power here, thanks to a geothermal plant they were able to repair after the earthquakes. It powers their radio, which can be picked up for miles. Crews work the farms in the surrounding countryside.
The only quarter open to outsiders is the Market Quarter, where scavengers sell their findings and buy up useful tools and goods. It's also hear where you'll find the whipping post and the gallows.
Located just outside of Ruin City's Market Gates are the remains of one of the neighborhoods. A saloon serves decent homemade beer and whiskey, with lively entertainment. A doctor still practices here, as does a barber and a dentist, dealing mostly in barter.
Everyone in Old Town is armed, most are decent shots.
Located in a desert, this looks like a missile base, surrounded by two chain-link fences and watched over by the guard towers that will shoot at any intruder outside or between the fences. But you never see the person shooting....
If cut, the chain-linked fence mends itself. People stepping in the area between the two fences and not at the gates get sucked down into the sand. Those who make it past these barriers will find the few doors are locked and the hatch covers firmly in place.
I am a seven-foot tall minecraft-playing hindu guru drag-queen alien.
Possessor of an Ancient Device™ Model 17. No, I don't know what it does. No, you can't play with it.
Pronouns: It. As in: "What is it? What does it want? Why is it here? Oh my god, it's got my... <insert random body part or object here>"
Likes: World Domination, Writing, Rpg, scifi/fantasy, anime, sketchup 3d models, and [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jmKRgqWGrWc]anime music videos[/url].
Companions: a host of characters from other games, my personal muse Penny (as in Bad), and the Badger gang - Toothpick, Buttons, Shark, and Mongo. They grew up in the balcony of an old theatre that played a lot of gangster movies. Normally benign, but may invade the OOC forums.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">I am a seven-foot tall minecraft-playing hindu guru drag-queen alien. <br><br>Possessor of an Ancient Device™ Model 17. No, I don't know what it does. No, you can't play with it.<br><br>Pronouns: It. As in: "What is it? What does it want? Why is it here? Oh my god, it's got my... <insert random body part or object here>"<br><br>Likes: World Domination, Writing, Rpg, scifi/fantasy, anime, sketchup 3d models, and <a target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jmKRgqWGrWc">anime music videos</a>.<br><br>Companions: a host of characters from other games, my personal muse Penny (as in Bad), and the Badger gang - Toothpick, Buttons, Shark, and Mongo. They grew up in the balcony of an old theatre that played a lot of gangster movies. Normally benign, but may invade the OOC forums.</div>
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