PrivateVentures

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@Gunther There is no way you're that old. Unless you're looking Death in the eye, you're not old in my mind. And, judging from the sound of your life, you're under fifty.

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The longest post I ever made was 55 paragraphs. It was in a Nation Role Play and I was addressing five separate issues in one post, including a collaboration. The one thing that annoyed me about that NRP was metagaming. I posted a conversation in my President's office with a few of his cabinet officers or Ministers. It was a private conversation spoken free from reporters, hidden microphones or spies. Yet, one of the other nation's leaders all of a sudden began making comments about the conversation that was allegedly in a newspaper. It was not in a newspaper, it was a private conversation conducted behind doors. But you can't say, "My nation is doing X, Y, & Z" if you haven't prepped it yet. This type of conversation is what I like to call SSIC or Super Secret In Character.

Metagaming, in this context would be using OOC information or IC information said in private in a public manner. Just because the author/Role player knows something, it does not mean the character knows it too. If two characters have a conversation away from everyone else and a third character makes comments about this conversation, they were not privy to, that is wrong too.

@Gunther

I'm glad you mentioned this. I've revealed small spoilers here and there. Anyone who knows those, make sure you forget them real quick.

ENDGAME

"Ah, don't worry about that. We're gonna trigger the device first." The captain gestured to Mei with a blue gauntlet, powered servos whining almost inaudibly as his fingers moved. "She'll head in with R-Three." He looked straight at R3's optical sensor. "Keep their attention on you. If you gotta kill their Mech, so be it. Mei's got a separate job to do. Smith? If you wanna go on, feel free, once their incapacitated, and we've got em by the balls. Remember, when the charge goes off, their life support is out. Keep your helmets on, visors down, rebreathers active." He paused, looking R3 up and down, before adding, "Their guns will be mostly inactive. But be ready for any asshole still packing old-fashioned heat. I'm talking revolvers, I'm talking .22 Long rifles, hell, I'm talking Mossberg fucking 1014s, for all I know. And uh, there are some folks on there who won't be as susceptible to the EMP as others." He turned away from the group, to face the main viewscreen. "Vee, throw it onscreen. File nine one six, title four oh four."

"Onscreen, Cap." The image of two armored figures appeared onscreen, each wearing the grey and white camoflage of UEA Marines, and each bearing a badge on their chests: a golden eagle, over blue flames, "404" emblazoned over it.

"These two are Hyperscouts. You may recognize that symbol. These two are from the specialized 'preemptive strike' company, the 'Fighting 404'. These are the same guys my squad fought off at Allegheri Station, a couple hundred kilometers outside Pluto's orbit. These guys are no joke." In a snap, he whipped his pistol from his belt and shattered a beer bottle on the other side of the room without looking at it in a flash of white light. There was no hesitation. "Think that was impressive?" Frothy beer foamed across the floor, carrying with it bits of broken glass. "They're even faster. If they're still using the same training and equipment, which I'm sure they are, their suits will be lead-lined. This means that while the EMP will damage their powered-motion systems, their personal life support and tactical AR systems will still be functional. I don't know how they're armed. But even unarmed and crippled, they're dangerous as all hell. Kill them. I don't care how. I don't even care if you kill 'em like a coward. Unless they die, they're dangerous. And the others will have someone to rally behind." He sat back down in his chair, ignoring the beer rolling across the floor. "I'll clean this up. Smith, get the bomb ready. You all know your places. Sorry to keep reiterating, but I'm pretty fucking nervous."

"Vee, can you hack their comms?"

"Negative, Cap. All I can get are snippets. And it sounds like they're using code. I'm not programmed for decryption, but if I had to guess, it sounds like Latin."

"You're fucking kidding me."

"Big fat negative, Cap."

"Team, if you need a show of force as a sign of, uh... Good faith, let me know. I'll be on the comm the whole time. Smith, you ready with that charge?"

ENDGAME

@Gunther That's the great thing about 'Casual'.

Besides, have you seen some of the Advanced circles? It's like they're writing short stories every post.

ENDGAME

The Captain's voice pounded back through the comm. "You heard me right, Smith. Take what you need from Cargo and Salvage. Left sock- wait, aren't those the same as the right ones? Screw it. Left sock is all ready for pickup." He reached down to hit the seals on his suit's left boot, depressurization squealing as he slid it off his foot, exposing a worn wool sock beneath, sweaty and quite rank. "It's a pretty bad sock, Smith. Hope you're up for it." He slipped it off, and glanced around his half-cabin, half-cockpit. "Shit, that's my only left sock."

He put his boot back on anyway, and saw Mei, showing off her new suit. "Lookin' good, Mei." He gave her a little finger-gun, before he realized he was still bootless and barefooted. He slid his boot back on. The internal gel layer warmed to match his body temperature, but he still winced at the feeling of the gel against his bare skin. "Ugh. I hate that." He adjusted his pistol, magnetized to his belt. It had a habit of floating over to his crotch and making it hard to sit down comfortably. Once it was properly placed, he sat back down onto his chair and promptly jumped back up, his sword hilt now in the way, having rolled to his lower back. He slid it over to his left side and sat back down. "Mei, there's a scientist on that ship, a theoretical physicist. His name is Doyle. I don't have a first name for him. That's classified. I want him unharmed. Barring that, use your hardlight dagger. I have a sneaking suspicion there's something down there on the surface. And I want to know what it is."

"Ventura, let's get some music in here. How about... Perturbator's 'Humans Are Such Easy Prey'." Ventura's voice sounded through the intercomm, a cool male voice with a strong American accent.

"You got it, Cap." The music thumped throughout the ENDGAME, making small, unsecured objects vibrate with the bass.

Ravnica: A Magic RP

@Kessir Tarkin AWWWWW YEAAAAAHHHH KESSIR WANTS TO

GROW

Ravnica: A Magic RP

Keen blue eyes scanned the warzone. She had to think fast.

Priority 1: Get out of trouble.

She spotted a short, thin crack, just under the the top of the retaining wall around the market. Just perfect. She charged from her hiding place and jumped, slamming her cutlass blade into it, to use as leverage, climbing over the top like a spider. Bits of dust and crumbling rock tumbled down, but her sword held fast.

Priority 2: Go on the offensive.

She closed her eyes, listening to the chaos beyond the wall. The sounds of rushing flame. The ring of clashing steel. Shouts and cries and screams. She peeked over the top, and selected what looked like some kind of Boros commander. He was large, though it could have just been his armor. But the things he knew... She cast a spell on him, Pilfered Plans running from his mind into hers, she saw his next move, but he forgot it. Confused, he hesitated, as a jester of Rakdos origin leapt onto his back, cackling, and slit his throat with a long thumbnail, practically a talon.

She ducked back behind the wall, and focused. Her next spell would have to be a real show of force. After all, the Dimir were extremely underrepresented in this conflict.

Priority 3: Summon.

She focused, feeling her soul alight with the darkness that dwells only in the deepest of minds. Black mana, drawn from the dying. Blue mana, drawn from the screaming.
Am I going a little too far, here? Bat wings and segmented legs writhed in her thoughts as she answered herself. No. Not far enough. She sheathed her sword and pressed both hands to the sides of her head. Her eyes rolled back as she prepared her mind.

Ravnica: A Magic RP

@JaceBelerenOkay, so I was right. I meant 4 mana on my next post. Sorry, should've been more clear.

Ravnica: A Magic RP

@JaceBeleren Okay, so at this point, my calculations, (4 Mana), would be correct?

Ravnica: A Magic RP

@JaceBeleren Hey, I might need a refresh on the casting rules. I didn't realize I could cast more than once a turn, but @Kessir Tarkin is over here machine gunning off spells.

Could I have done that too?

EDIT: I've been visually keeping track of it with Dimir Guildgate cards on my desk.