RP Time! - RPC#1 entries/voting

[Loksfjoer]

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Welcome to the Voting and Feedback round for RPC#1!

This is a new contest, so I want to try a new voting system as well. There will be a point system for this one, but it may be tweaked for later versions.

The prompt that led to the entries can be found in this thread.

Voting and Feedback guidelines

• Please take your time to read through all the entries before voting for your favourite entry. The reasons you base your vote on are up to you, as long the vote isn’t based on whether or not you like the author.
  It would be nice if you could share why you voted for a specific work.
• Giving feedback is optional but highly encouraged. When giving feedback you should be respectful and constructive. It’s good to point out any flaws or the things you feel could be improved or why you didn't like something, but don’t be mean.
  Make sure to point out what you liked or what appreciated in the entry too.
• Contestants may (and are encouraged to) vote and/or give feedback for the other entries but shouldn’t vote for their own entry. If contestants wish to withhold a vote and only give feedback, that is good too.
• The entries are anonymous unless the RPer asked for having their name added. That being said, RPers may claim their entry at any time during or after the voting period.
• You can vote for entries and post your feedback in this thread, but if you rather have your vote and/or feedback be anonymous you can PM it to @Calle.
• The voting period deadline is May 2nd, 9:00 CET, which is 7:00 server time (both times are in a.m.).

The Point System:

• Every entry starts with a number of points based on incorporating the elements I listed, 1 point for each.
• Voters can vote for their favourite piece, which will be worth 2 points.
• Voters can vote for a runner-up, but this is completely optional. You don't have to choose a runner-up if you don't have one. A runner-up will receive 1 point.
• The contest host won't award points for quality at the start, as that is still determined by a people's vote, but in case of a tie the contest host will also vote.

---

The Entries

The Mysterious Mayor

Where… am I? Keiko wondered as her eyes scanned her surroundings. A tall young woman of refined bearing, garbed in an elegant kimono and holding a large umbrella in the traditional Japanese style, Keiko was the very image of a proper Japanese lady. Or, rather, she would have been, if not for the cold intensity of her gaze, along with the incongruous pair of sizable horns protruding from her forehead.

Although Keiko had no memory of how she had come to stand within them, her surroundings seemed pleasant enough- a small path in the midst of a verdant wood. The vibrant green leaves of the myriad bushes and trees sparkled like dozens of shimmering stars as shafts of warm sunlight struck the many water droplets that covered them. These constellations were joined, Keiko soon realized, by those gracing the puddles on the muddy path before her, creating quite the dazzling display.

A pity I missed the rain…

Yes, she had always loved the rain, so soothing, so refreshing… A simple thing that, nonetheless, managed to rejuvenate mind, body, and spirit in ways that nothing else seemed able to match. It was a cherished blessing indeed, Keiko reflected, especially in the midst of her arduous training to forge herself into an instrument worthy of her lady.

Her lady. She was obviously the reason Keiko now found herself in these mysterious surroundings. Of that, the horned young woman was certain. Either her lady had brought her here because there was a worthy opponent in this place for her to meet in honorable combat, or some foe of her liege had sought to imprison her here in a pathetic attempt at revenge. Regardless of the reason, the path before her was clear, in more ways than one. Whatever challenge lay before her, she would defeat it, as she always had. Thus, Keiko began to make her way down the forest passage, her pace calm and unhurried.

Eventually, the forest opened to reveal a small village, surrounded by fields. The settlement was a modest collection of simple structures, with white-plastered walls and straw rooftops, set along a few cobblestone streets. As she drew nearer, Keiko took note of the various inhabitants she could see. One elderly man was tending to the roses in his garden, while a considerably younger man was pushing a heavily laden cart towards what appeared to be a bakery. However, she could see no children present, or animals of any kind, and while the village seemed to have a fair number of shops, an inn did not seem to be among them.

Just as well. I do not plan on remaining here long.

Retracting her horns so as not to alarm the villagers, Keiko continued on until she had reached the well at the center of the village square. Two middle-aged women were standing by it, deep in conversation. Like the others she had seen, they were dressed in the simple clothes of peasants and seemed to be rather fearfully whispering back and forth about the village’s new mayor.

“Please pardon my intrusion,” Keiko announced with a small bow. “I do not mean to eavesdrop, but I could not help but notice that something has caused you no small amount of distress.”

“Oh, dear! You poor thing!” One of the women gasped, only just now noticing the new arrival. “I was just telling Gertrude how awful it was that we were trapped here, and now yet another innocent soul has been cursed to share our horrible fate!”

“Your fate?” Keiko inquired. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you see, dear, it’s just like Abby and I were discussing,” the other woman replied in a hushed tone. “It’s all because of the new mayor.”

“Yes, he lives in that mansion just outside the village,” Abby added, hesitantly pointing a trembling finger in the direction of said structure.

Casting her sharp-eyed gaze in the direction indicated, Keiko saw that it was quite the palatial edifice, one of an opulence and architectural complexity far surpassing that displayed by the humble structures of the village.

“Ever since he killed the old mayor, he’s trapped us here in the village!” Gertrude explained.

“How?”

“W-We don’t really know…” Abby conceded. “It’s just that, whenever anyone ventures too far down the path, they end up right back here, at the well.”

“I see…” Keiko murmured. “So this man is some form of sorcerer….”

“Oh, no! He’s no man!” Gertrude corrected, her eyes filled with fear. “He’s a horrible monster!”

“An abomination!” Abby added, looking and sounding equally terrified.

“A monster?” Keiko repeated. “Do you mean, like this?” she inquired, allowing her horns to reemerge and extend to their full, impressive length.

“Oh, heavens no!” Gertrude replied, while attempting to stifle a small giggle.

“Why, those are absolutely lovely, dear,” Abby added with a patronizing smile, as if talking to a confused child. “Certainly nothing like that nightmarish creature…”

Keiko raised an eyebrow, a major expression of shock for such a stoic young lady.

If my true appearance is perfectly normal to them, then what form of being awaits me in that mansion?

“I see,” Keiko replied curtly. “Thank you for your time,” she told the two women with another bow, before setting off towards the Mansion’s imposing steel gates.

“W-Wait!” Both women cried out.

“Y-You can’t go in there!” Abby insisted.

“The gates are barred, and even if you could get inside, the mayor will surely kill you!” Gertrude added.

“Y-Yes!” Abby agreed. “The old mayor was a master swordsman, and he fell after only one strike!”

“Perhaps,” Keiko replied, sounding utterly unperturbed as she conjured an ornate katana and employed its glowing blade to slice through the gates in one smooth motion. “Yet, there is only one way to know for certain.”

Leaving the two women at the shattered gates, Keiko strode up to the mansion’s doors, which spread themselves wide before her, and stepped into the darkness beyond…

Misfits there, Oafs here

Whereever I was it wasn't the usual suburban plains and roving hills of Illinois. No Misfits that failed feigning agility for dexterity but got rejected from their own stand-to, and no scum that tried the heretic way, too, but were considered ruffian enough to appeal being gay, merry, or lousy.

I kept from intermediating with the Ladies by the Well, I just didn't like the random unperturbed satiableness of them by happenstance, as I knew well enough that Women would prefer to not become Oafs, for whatever Maiden class they earned. So I jogged towards the Man pushing the cart, waved my hand with my arm over my stature enjoying the location much better than a mere Tourist - serendipity always made any location my turf moments after like I was a B-Class Stud. He couldn't see it and with that estimation I strove with a stride of prominence in the jive towards the man, when he did acknowledge me I competently asked "It's quite bright, almost like Noon has come or passed, say Fellow I sense no longing humidty, is there a Sea Coast about here?"

The Man was a gaw with me. My facial recovery was a reflex by now... but I farted. So I forgot about adheration, and mistook the appraisal to a jolly good Fellow myself, heeving into an astounding laughter, I couldn't recognise if I was affable or better because I had layed a hand on their shoulder, nearly unstabling the Man. "Now it's hot as you thought!" said the Man.

I almost buckled backwards, that retort was too well placated. I could feel my face begin to redden, though. So I managed a stand-still. The chuckles echoeing inside my lungs made me see stars for fleeting moments, there. Casually the Man said "The Caspain Sea is East of here, Buddy, you're in Georgia."

Training the village

Not remembering where you were wasn’t normal, but it was for P.T.. It was an unfortunate side effect for those that inhaled behemoth incense. One minute you were an unstoppable warrior, then you woke up without knowing where you were or how you got there. She accepted it.

P.T. only wished she had been dressed better. Her white bodysuit showed every speck of mud on her person. Her bandages held the cold dirt against her skin. Her incense burner – which looked like a chain gun strapped to her back – struck every tree she walked by.

Despite her strange appearance, the locals were unfazed by her. P.T. reasoned that they must had seen many odd foreigners. She had to be in an inter-dimensional space frequented by travelers like herself. This narrowed down the places P.T. could be from an uncountable infinite number to a countably infinite one. To get more answers – and to alleviate her munchies – she approached the young man headed to the bakery.

“Broooooo!” P.T. delivered her ice breaker before running up beside the man. Her incense burner slapped into the side of the cart, rocking it off its wheels.

“Gah!” He immediately lowered the cart to prevent it from falling over. “Watch where you’re pointing that thing!”

He could speak her language. He didn't seem to know what the incense burner was, but that was understandable given its shape. “I’m lost, maaaaaaan. Wanna, tell me, where I, aaaaaaaaam?”

With a huff, the man straightened his posture. “Didn’t you bring a map?”

“Naw. No map, my guy. But, you’re way, cuter than, a map.” P.T. gave the man a shark's grin.

“Was that flirting? I’ll tell you I’m happily-”

P.T. tugged at one of the bags in an attempt to open it. With a pop, it covered her face and hands in powder.

“W-what are you doing with the flour!?”

“I was, wondering, what that, white stuff was.”

The young man groaned. “Could you please bother someone else?”

“Hey, we cool, we cool.” P.T. scooched the man over and grabbed the cart’s handles. “Let me, help you out.”

“I don’t-”

P.T. had little difficulty lifting the cart back up. She was banged up, but there was enough behemoth incense flowing through her veins to do a little physical labor. “Where do you, want it, brooooooooo?”

The young man sighed in defeat. “Just, cart it out back. My brothers will unload it.” He walked after her. “And my name is Kent!”

---

Once the cart was unloaded, P.T was treated to one of the biggest buns she ever saw. It barely fit in her hand, but she had little difficulty enjoying it.

“This bread.” She managed between bites. “Is the, best, bread, ever.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Kent pointed at her flour-bleached face. “You uh, want a napkin?”

“Naw.” She grinned. “I need, a shower, anyway.”

“Right.” After watching her take another bite, Kent closed his eyes. “Look, it’s not that we don’t like outsiders, they just cause us a lot of trouble.”

“Mam miffiming.” P.T. said with a mouth full of bread.

“Every time an outsider comes through here, the mayor sends out his troops.” Kent shrugged. “They interrogate everyone about what they ate, why they were there, the works. They’ll also collect anything an outsider leaves behind.” He pinched his fingers together. “I’ve seen troops with tweezers trying to collect fallen hair. Nobody messes with them. It’s a good way to get hurt.”

P.T. raised an eyebrow. “Do you, know why, my guy?”

“If I had to guess, his interest in outsiders is related to how he’s become so wealthy.”

She swallowed. “And he, stays, in power?”

Kent huffed. “The elders tell me they use to vote for mayors, but I’ve never seen an election in my entire life. I don’t even know his name. He’s always just been 'the mayor'.”

P.T. hesitated. “Where does, he live?”

“Just outside the village. The giant mansion with a wrought iron fence is his.” Kent shook his head. “The gate’s under lock and key, and well guarded. You aren’t seeing him unless he wants to see you.”

That might be the case under most circumstances. However…

The incense burner started to make a whirring sound. The belt feed started to move, and the Incense burner dispensed a red cloud. With a deep inhale, P.T. drew it all into her lungs and held it there. Her blood vessels stood out. Dark rivers of blood ran under her skin. Her heart throbbed in her ears. Her bodysuit stretched as her muscles expanded. Once her transformation was complete, she exhaled.

“Bet.”

“Uh, wow.” Kent looked P.T. up and down. “I’ve seen some interesting outsiders, but nothing like that.”

“Yee.”

“Yee?” Kent broke eye contact with P.T. to examine her muscles.

“Do you, wanna, hit, my guy?”

Kent blinked. “Excuse me?”

P.T. presented him with a bong linked directly to her incense burner. “Wanna, get, swole?”

“Oh I couldn’t possibly-” He cleared his throat. “I mean, is it safe?”

P.T. tipped her head side to side. “Not in, large hits.”

“In that case, I will have a small hit.” P.T. held the apparatus up to his lips. He only got half way through inhaling when he pulled back and started coughing. He waved the red smoke away from his face. “That was a lot less pleasant than-” Kent stopped when he noticed his arm was noticeably more toned than it should have been.

“Wanna see, the mayor, with me?”

Kent looked at P.T. and smiled. “Can the rest of the village join us?”

She smiled. They didn't call her P.T. for nothing.

[Zmija Sebastian]

I sure hope votes don't go to the oddysseys.

[BrokenPromise]

I’ve always found the contest section of the forum interesting. In times of yore, I would read the entries and write critiques on each one. I’ve always felt the single best part of the contest wasn’t seeing how you stacked up, but getting feedback on your work. Seeing how you stack up against your fellow competitors is great, but knowing how to improve is how we can better our next contest entry and even our next RP post.

I won’t be awarding any points to any of the entries. But I would like to talk about them a bit.

The Mysterious Mayor

The writing here is very polished and clean. I didn’t have any difficulty hopping from word to word as Callie’s little village was recreated. Keiko’s observations were interesting, but didn’t quite lapse into purple prose. It used almost the entire word limit but felt concise. The writer managed their word budget well and was smart enough to know where to spend them. There may be some typos or grammatical errors, but I didn’t notice anything on my first read.

If I had a real critique, it would be that the story was very safe. It didn’t do anything bold or exciting, only aiming to satisfy the criteria for the contest as simply as it could. Keiko went on a quest to fight the mayor. It felt like the sort of post you’d see when you just want to move your character to the next objective. The cool fight or big event is happening in the next post.

But it was a well written entry and I enjoyed reading it. I’m curious if Keiko is out there in an RP or if this was her first appearance. Regardless, I would love to know who the author of this story was, as I might consider joining the next RP they participate in.

Misfits there, Oafs here

I’m not really sure how to describe this one.

On one hand, it was amusing. It was zany and crazy and it’s been a while since I’ve read something that made me smile like that.

On the other, a good chunk of it is rendered almost incomprehensible by some of your word choices. Thesauruses are good in moderation, but using more common words would make things a bit more legible.

I did not expect to read about someone farting.

Training the village

I feel like trying to objectively review my own work would come across as vain or an attempt to seek attention. So instead, I’d like to use my experience of writing my entry to review the contest itself.

So to start, you got me @Calle. I thought this was going to be a simple, fun little contest that I could join and be casual with. I thought I could get away with just writing a post and dusting off my hands. After all, that’s the idea isn’t it? It’s supposed to feel like I’m writing a post.

And to most, to me, it looked like that was going to be easy. You gave a rudimentary post for us to respond to, some details to work into our posts, it was great. It was a little unclear what we needed to include and what we didn’t, but I ultimately decided on this:

-Everything in your starter post didn’t need to be stated, as that was a post that all of the players should have read and been responding to.

-The extra stuff, on the other hand, was not. Everything in there HAD to be included in our posts somewhere.

-As an added challenge, I wanted to use a character that wasn’t ideal for the contest. Someone who most certainly wouldn’t be walking around a feudal village.

And I got to work. And I wrote for a time, and I was almost done. And do you know what I noticed?

THE WORD LIMIT WAS ONLY 1000!

Most of my posts these days are around the 600-800 word mark, but this was different. This was the first time most people would see P.T., so she needed to be sufficiently described. I also needed to include all of these extra details that you wanted, and I also needed toi write a scene that was going to be uniquely my own. I wanted to showcase what made P.T. different from all of the other contest entries, as I feel the character is pivotal in a contest like this.

And I mean, I did it. I was reminded how powerful “show don’t tell” can be when used right, and is definitely something I’m going to work more into my writing. It also made me realize how unimportant some details can be. A lot of P.T.’s characteristics were left on the cutting room floor. But none of that stuff was important to the story. I don’t think anyone is going to care what behemoth incense is really made of or who P.T. works for. As a player it’s easy to get hung up on this stuff, but the readers often won’t miss or care to see such information if it isn’t relevant.

That is to say that while you can make some good posts in under 1000 words, it wouldn’t hurt to see that raised to 2000, or even 1500. Just so that we have enough words to do something S P I C Y if we feel like it.

In closing, I’ll say that I think this type of contest holds a lot of potential. I’ll likely join the next one when it rolls around, and hopefully it’ll get more interest. But I do think some consideration needs to be made for what can reasonably be done with a tight word limit, and it wouldn’t hurt to be a bit more clear on what you expect out of the contestants.

Also whew, we’re coming up on the three year anniversary of you becoming a contest mod aren’t we? Or was it longer? Congratulations! I don’t know how you do it!

[Zmija Sebastian]

I'm not much of a Writer, but it was easy to dupe Teachers I cared in School to the "unweighted" GPA of 1.97500. Weighed I got a 2.72083, which I feel is Kawaler{Cavalier} really because I didnt pick my Classes I chose to orient Teachers fussing without peerage-procession, finding them to be invasive actually (as was a Quest to learn sardonicism into - hah, ranging, ranging..), to give me BASIC Classes. So, being a 1st person roleplayer, I strive to humiliate any other Party-Animal like a Swordsmans' Guild's two-sword Magister by telling the skits to myself, for space mercenary- Ignore that, some of my charm is extraordinary- you- I've heard|read that many times that I drawl out like a run-on sentence. That is a default of mine, but this Contest was the 1st I had tried to. Several of my works werent like there, but just fell too short on word count, so for that two-sword Swordsman principles I'd rebuke them to Calle and not compete. This work I tried to break a "wall", enjoying most People would comprehend the jolly good Fellow attempt of a European that was unstereotyped. And the Contest topic seemed easy to heed figuring out where I was with it along the way that it ended in the glee of my eye. I try for Kingdom sake with my words, as I cannot fathom the advanced apptitude of impeccability. I am to aware that my Nobleness isnt slavey like how words like "concession" or "inappropriate" are actually, and will cease talking of that so now because it burdens my heart with knowing entrepeneurship is that for terraforming, because rp's such as Space Pirate. *shrugs* when most "Barbarians" in class turned out to be "Bardic", what can I say?

For what it's worth I didn't read your girly renounce, your typing wherever I've ever been without being your Acquaintance in the Roleplayer Guild has been marvelous, so I won't allow myself to read your Dignitarian in this ball. It's just a Contest.

*I strolled a way. Where could that possibly be? I wasn't out of sight still, made an arm movement in the veil of darkness and threw off backhanded the cloak of black that was upon a dirtcycle- yes not some dystopian vader but a Ranger. As I sat to it's automatic-awesomeness music was the sound the throttle made as I torqued it's turning. I sped into a 260 degree turnabout thrice, then left you all to the lyrics brokered.*

They can't make things worse for me
Sometimes I'd rather die
They can tell me lots of things
But we don't see eye to eye
Well, I know they know the way I think
We know they always will
But someday I'm gonna change my mind
Sometimes I'd rather kill
Blood stains, speed kills
Fast cars, cheap thrills
Rich girls, fine wine
I've lost my sense, I've lost control, I've lost my mind
Ah, things seems so much different now
The scene has died away
I haven't got a steady job
And I've got no place to stay
Well, it's a futuristic modern world
But things aren't what they seem
Someday you better wake up
From this stupid fantasy, come on
Blood stains, speed kills
Fast cars, cheap thrills
Rich girls, fine wine
I've lost my sense, I've lost control, I've lost my mind

Blood stains, speed kills
Fast cars, cheap thrills
Rich girls, fine wine
I've lost my sense, I've lost control, I've lost my mind

[Jonisca]

I enjoyed reading the 3rd entry, Training the Village.

Love how the events flow naturally, with some decent humor spun in (albeit quite cringe haha).

You have my vote.

[Zmija Sebastian]

Heh, the Contest is done without a Runner-Up. You have my Congratulations, BrokenPromise.

@Calle

[Loksfjoer]

@Zmija Sebastian As a reminder, votes/feedback can also happen through PM and there is a point system, so the highest number of votes in this thread may not be the actual winner.

Low turn-up for votes this round, but there was a vote.
This means the final points are:

• Training the village: 6 points
• The Mysterious Mayor: 4 points
• Misfits there, Oafs here: 3 points

That means "Training the village" is the winner for this round. Congratulations @BrokenPromise

I will be taking the feedback into account for the next round of this contest.

[Zmija Sebastian]

Ah, I can vote with a PM. That's great, I'll do that. Talking here is all deflective, I hate gallivanting as This is not how I learn to rp.