Current
Got a bad case of the "don't wanna"s. Dozen things I should do, but I don't wanna.
9
likes
3 yrs ago
Offered a job .. because the civil service list is stale and the people they wanted to hire withdrew. Do I really want to be the person that they settle for?
1
like
3 yrs ago
That's cause the coward has 80-90 years to work on those extra deaths, while the hero gets knocked off at 18.
4
likes
3 yrs ago
Wondering what modern genres could be considered "pulp," IOW written quickly for profit, sold cheaply in mass numbers. Romance is a long running good example. Seen a lot of military scifi ebooks.
1
like
3 yrs ago
Furiously packing. Oh, for the days when everything I'd need for a week would fit in one backpack.
3
likes
Bio
Mid-forties. Old enough to know better, yet here I am.
Falling out of love with dice as I get older. Getting tired of putting effort into scenes only to have them fall apart because of a bad roll.
So what are we thinking for the headquarters to the Sunday Group?
I'm thinking "hiding in plain sight." A sprawling little office building in an unfashionable part of downtown. The kind of place that usually houses a handful of obscure non-profit organizations. Much bigger than it looks, with basements and sub-sub-basements. Room for the archives, room for the weapons shop, room for the morgue, etc.
Junia Harris is a tall woman with an ample build. Her skin is the color of a green tea chai: creamy brown with a hint of olive green underneath. She has a wealth of kinky black hair that she keeps in a birth-control bun while working and lets spill down her back other times. She has a wardrobe of eShakti dresses (they've got pockets!) tailored to complement her plus-sized build and several sets of sensible shoes. Cooler weather brings out the cardigans. Everything is dusted with a fine layer of cat hair.
Her face is just this side of ugly. Her eyes protrude, her mouth is a hair too wide, and her toothy smile is cheerful but unsettling. There's a little webbing between her fingers and her nails are getting pointed.
Junia is a professional. She lives her job most days. Her attitude is helpful and friendly, but there's a wall between you and her personal life. Even when she lets her hair down - literally - she still usually keeps herself removed from other people. When she's actually rude to you, that's when you know you've got a friend.
Concept: Aphra Marsh from Ruthanna Emrys' "The Litany of Earth," taken in the opposite direction.
Junia is a hybrid. Hybrid of what, she doesn't know. (Deep One, if nothing else in the story presents itself.) She's an archivist, librarian and records manager. She's the one who retreats to the archives of the Sunday Group and comes back with that apocalypse log from the last expedition that disappeared in the same region.
Powers/skills: Hybrid Vigour: Junia is changing into something that is not human. It has made her extra-large (6'3", *mumble* lbs), strong, energetic and bouncy. Literally bouncy; she's rubbery and will bounce when she falls off the shelving ladder.
Librarian Powers Activate!: Junia's primary skill is her experience as a librarian and researcher. Given a few crumbs and a basic question, she can ferret out the answers - or at least where to find the answers - within a reasonable amount of time. She has Google as her start page and dozens of online databases bookmarked.
She has a librarian's memory: abbreviated, but extremely powerful. She can't quite remember the fact that she's looking for, but she almost always remembers where she found it. Her brain is a storehouse of unrelated links, like an index to an encyclopedia.
Her experiences have made her open to practicing magic. Mostly the neo-platonic, Hermetic variety. Perhaps her alien background gives her an advantage. She's just getting started, but she hopes to master the evocation of wisdom spirits; that is, magically summoning entities that can teach her more magic. She's not confident enough yet to try, but she's getting closer.
She can read twelve languages, three of which were never spoken with human tongues. She's an excellent cook with flawless knife skills and a weakness for sushi. She's got an encyclopedic knowledge of Ani DiFranco and Indigo Girls songs. She can curl her tongue, but not wiggle her ears. On any given day she has two cats.
Things Your Character Wants to Happen (probably won't): Junia wants to know what she is. She wants to become skilled in High Magic and summon a spirit of wisdom through the seven layers of theurgic ritual. She wants to become a master sushi chef. She wants to ask that cute barista out on a date to the museum. She wants to understand everything that can be understood. She wants to punch a genealogist. She wants to keep her cats from shredding her new sweater. She wants to know.
Things You as a Writer Want to Happen (Maybe will): I want to play Junia, who I created for a RP that died on the vine. She's become one of my favorite characters that I've never played, and I want to find her voice. I want creepy, surreal adventures that ask more questions than they answer.
Writing Sample?
The locked door was taunting Junia.
No one had the key. The building had changed hands six times in the past ten years, and the key had been lost early in the process. Thing was, there was absolutely reason for there to be a room down here. On the blueprints, it was just labeled "office."
Who puts an office in a church basement?
This was just a quick check by the Sunday Group. The Head Office had told her not to get into any trouble, just poke around, get a feel for the place. The complaints weren't anything solid at the moment. An old Catholic church that had been sold off due to a graying congregation and some stiff legal settlements. It had since been a yoga studio, a brewery, and a laser tag arena.
Who knew laser tag was still a thing?
It was scheduled to be turned into apartments next month. The rumors were nothing big: a feeling like the building was trembling, and the sound of laughter in the distance. Given that it had been a brewery for a couple of years, you have to expect some crazy stories around it.
So she should just shrug off the door and walk away. She'd do that. Any minute now...
Finally admitting defeat at the hands of her own curiosity, she tried the door handle. Locked, of course.
Pretending to be getting a pebble out of her shoe, she leaned against the door. Why she bothered pretending with no one around, she couldn't explain, it just seemed appropriate. With a sudden lurch, she straightened and swung her too-large hips into the door.
They say use it or lose it, and I can't seem to lose it, so ...
The wood around the latch splintered. For the first time in most of a decade, light spilled into the room. It was ... an office.
Well, phooey.
An old metal desk sat at the center, as drab as it was impersonal. At some point, the office had turned into a storage room. Boxes were now stacked in every corner. Alas, none were labeled "secret confessions."
Starting at the center, Junia rifled through the desk drawers. The bottom right drawer was neatly organized. That alone was suspicious. Junia was an old hand at removing drawers, since that is frequently the easiest way to move documents. A quick twist and yank popped the entire drawer out of its socket. Sure enough, behind the drawer was a dusty leather-bound book. Junia flipped it open ...
"... and He looked upon His creation and proclaimed it good. In a loud voice he called out, "Hear Me, I am Lord, and I am One! I was the first, I am now, and I am above all things to come!" And did the Heavens resound in laughter, and did the archons and the powers mock Him for His arrogance. But He understood it not, for He was too limited to see the divine pleroma above Him, and He heard the sounds as cheers from those below."
Huh. Sounds Gnostic. What's an ancient heretical text doing in the basement of a Catholic church?
Junia clutched the book to her side and headed up the side stairs and out of the building. The lighting was actually worse out here, but at least there was cellphone reception. When the weird and spooky got religion, there was only one person to call. The one person on her contact list that knew more about cults and esoteric theology than the rest of the Sunday Group combined.
I really ought to ask the Lovecraftesque writers if I can hack it for urban fantasy, that would be rad...
From what I've read, they tried to duplicate the flow of a mythos story: slow buildup of hints that ratchet up the tension until a final resolve. That structure ought to work for most mystery stories as well.
@Penny Can you expand a bit on how you expect the "collaborative RP" aspect to go? I haven't gotten my hands on Lovecraftesque yet, but my understanding is that it has no GM. Everyone takes turns telling part of the story and there is only one main character. Everyone provides a 'clue' that gets wrapped up at the end of the game.
Are you going to provide the setting and plot hook while we describe our actions and provide a clue? And we all discuss how the clues fit together, with you deciding on which theory to go with?
Junia Harris is a tall woman with an ample build. Her skin is the color of a green tea chai: creamy brown with a hint of olive green underneath. She has a wealth of kinky black hair that she keeps in a birth-control bun while working and lets spill down her back other times. She has a wardrobe of eShakti dresses (they've got pockets!) tailored to complement her plus-sized build and several sets of sensible shoes. Cooler weather brings out the cardigans. Everything is dusted with a fine layer of cat hair.
Her face is just this side of ugly. Her eyes protrude, her mouth is a hair too wide, and her toothy smile is cheerful but unsettling. There's a little webbing between her fingers and her nails are getting pointed.
Junia is a professional. She lives her job most days. Her attitude is helpful and friendly, but there's a wall between you and her personal life. Even when she lets her hair down - literally - she still usually keeps herself removed from other people. When she's actually rude to you, that's when you know you've got a friend.
Concept: Aphra Marsh from Ruthanna Emrys' "The Litany of Earth," taken in the opposite direction.
Junia is a hybrid. Hybrid of what, she doesn't know. (Deep One, if nothing else in the story presents itself.) She's an archivist, librarian and records manager. She's the one who retreats to the archives of the Sunday Group and comes back with that apocalypse log from the last expedition that disappeared in the same region.
Powers/skills: Hybrid Vigour: Junia is changing into something that is not human. It has made her extra-large (6'3", *mumble* lbs), strong, energetic and bouncy. Literally bouncy; she's rubbery and will bounce when she falls off the shelving ladder.
Librarian Powers Activate!: Junia's primary skill is her experience as a librarian and researcher. Given a few crumbs and a basic question, she can ferret out the answers - or at least where to find the answers - within a reasonable amount of time. She has Google as her start page and dozens of online databases bookmarked.
She has a librarian's memory: abbreviated, but extremely powerful. She can't quite remember the fact that she's looking for, but she almost always remembers where she found it. Her brain is a storehouse of unrelated links, like an index to an encyclopedia.
Her experiences have made her open to practicing magic. Mostly the neo-platonic, Hermetic variety. Perhaps her alien background gives her an advantage. She's just getting started, but she hopes to master the evocation of wisdom spirits; that is, magically summoning entities that can teach her more magic. She's not confident enough yet to try, but she's getting closer.
She can read twelve languages, three of which were never spoken with human tongues. She's an excellent cook with flawless knife skills and a weakness for sushi. She's got an encyclopedic knowledge of Ani DiFranco and Indigo Girls songs. She can curl her tongue, but not wiggle her ears. On any given day she has two cats.
Things Your Character Wants to Happen (probably won't): Junia wants to know what she is. She wants to become skilled in High Magic and summon a spirit of wisdom through the seven layers of theurgic ritual. She wants to become a master sushi chef. She wants to ask that cute barista out on a date to the museum. She wants to understand everything that can be understood. She wants to punch a genealogist. She wants to keep her cats from shredding her new sweater. She wants to know.
Things You as a Writer Want to Happen (Maybe will): I want to play Junia, who I created for a RP that died on the vine. She's become one of my favorite characters that I've never played, and I want to find her voice. I want creepy, surreal adventures that ask more questions than they answer.
Writing Sample?
The locked door was taunting Junia.
No one had the key. The building had changed hands six times in the past ten years, and the key had been lost early in the process. Thing was, there was absolutely reason for there to be a room down here. On the blueprints, it was just labeled "office."
Who puts an office in a church basement?
This was just a quick check by the Sunday Group. The Head Office had told her not to get into any trouble, just poke around, get a feel for the place. The complaints weren't anything solid at the moment. An old Catholic church that had been sold off due to a graying congregation and some stiff legal settlements. It had since been a yoga studio, a brewery, and a laser tag arena.
Who knew laser tag was still a thing?
It was scheduled to be turned into apartments next month. The rumors were nothing big: a feeling like the building was trembling, and the sound of laughter in the distance. Given that it had been a brewery for a couple of years, you have to expect some crazy stories around it.
So she should just shrug off the door and walk away. She'd do that. Any minute now...
Finally admitting defeat at the hands of her own curiosity, she tried the door handle. Locked, of course.
Pretending to be getting a pebble out of her shoe, she leaned against the door. Why she bothered pretending with no one around, she couldn't explain, it just seemed appropriate. With a sudden lurch, she straightened and swung her too-large hips into the door.
They say use it or lose it, and I can't seem to lose it, so ...
The wood around the latch splintered. For the first time in most of a decade, light spilled into the room. It was ... an office.
Well, phooey.
An old metal desk sat at the center, as drab as it was impersonal. At some point, the office had turned into a storage room. Boxes were now stacked in every corner. Alas, none were labeled "secret confessions."
Starting at the center, Junia rifled through the desk drawers. The bottom right drawer was neatly organized. That alone was suspicious. Junia was an old hand at removing drawers, since that is frequently the easiest way to move documents. A quick twist and yank popped the entire drawer out of its socket. Sure enough, behind the drawer was a dusty leather-bound book. Junia flipped it open ...
"... and He looked upon His creation and proclaimed it good. In a loud voice he called out, "Hear Me, I am Lord, and I am One! I was the first, I am now, and I am above all things to come!" And did the Heavens resound in laughter, and did the archons and the powers mock Him for His arrogance. But He understood it not, for He was too limited to see the divine pleroma above Him, and He heard the sounds as cheers from those below."
Huh. Sounds Gnostic. What's an ancient heretical text doing in the basement of a Catholic church?
Junia clutched the book to her side and headed up the side stairs and out of the building. The lighting was actually worse out here, but at least there was cellphone reception. When the weird and spooky got religion, there was only one person to call. The one person on her contact list that knew more about cults and esoteric theology than the rest of the Sunday Group combined.
Interested. I've played a few times in the early editions. Haven't really touched the 2nd edition.
I'm a little ambivalent about the meta-story. I lived through the edgy 90s, with the X-Files and the paranoia and the sweaty "they're all out to steal my precious bodily fluids" stuff. It's not particularly cosmic or weird, it's just the cold war shifted to a new arena.
Mid-forties. Old enough to know better, yet here I am.
Falling out of love with dice as I get older. Getting tired of putting effort into scenes only to have them fall apart because of a bad roll.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Mid-forties. Old enough to know better, yet here I am.<br><br>Falling out of love with dice as I get older. Getting tired of putting effort into scenes only to have them fall apart because of a bad roll.</div>
Shadrack Nor
Foster
Tyler Night
Alby47
Vampiretwilight