...and I find revealing history through IC works just as well as through CS bios.
Oh...you are my favourite person now. I love revealing through story rather than vomiting it all out in a bio.
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Fuzzybootz,
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6 yrs ago
It’s none of my business what people say of me and think of me. I am what I am and I do what I do. I expect nothing and accept everything. And it makes life so much easier.
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Bio
“There is no such thing as a new idea. It is impossible. We simply take a lot of old ideas and put them into a sort of mental kaleidoscope. We give them a turn and they make new and curious combinations. We keep on turning and making new combinations indefinitely; but they are the same old pieces of colored glass that have been in use through all the ages.”
- Mark Twain
- Mark Twain
Most Recent Posts
Oh...you are my favourite person now. I love revealing through story rather than vomiting it all out in a bio.
So I noticed there was no header for "Bio" on the CS. Are you leaving it optional? I've never not had to write one so I figured I'd ask :)
That being said, if we are adding a bio, then a couple of questions need to be asked for the sake of context:
- Where is this generally taking place? (America? Europe? A new undiscovered land?)
- Approx when did the world become a "Utopia"?
I'm asking since I will be rolling a Vampire who is 92 years old, was born shortly after WW1 and became a Vamp around 30s (so 57 years of immortality).
That being said, if we are adding a bio, then a couple of questions need to be asked for the sake of context:
- Where is this generally taking place? (America? Europe? A new undiscovered land?)
- Approx when did the world become a "Utopia"?
I'm asking since I will be rolling a Vampire who is 92 years old, was born shortly after WW1 and became a Vamp around 30s (so 57 years of immortality).
As a "dark fantasy" fan, I think you have a great theme going @WeepingLiberty and I may have to seriously consider lording over one of the puny witches or warlocks :)
Welcome @txgood2, to the land of milk and honey!
Appreciate your posting vigilance @A Tattooed Girl, even in the face of insurmountable odds, as I have two kids I've had to raise on my own and that alone saps every last bit of will, strength, and creativity! :)
@Sep!
Before the question of "How do you build your characters" disappears forever into the RPGN archives, I should probably answer it:
Primarily, the basis of my characters stem from my own life and the people I've encountered growing up in a middle-class family in South Boston, going through the trials of adolescence and gangs, moving from one dark corner of the US to another followed by yet another, selling anything I could to satisfy whatever vice got me by at the time, relationship hopping like it was going out of style, and then trying to raise two kids on my own who mean the world to me...
...all the while hoping upon hope that I lived to the next day.
I tend to draw from a sense of surviving in a world that doesn't really give two shits about who you are and is doing all it can to push you away unless you have the balls enough to push back even harder. To stare opposition in the face like the twisted bitch that it is, and shove your [insert favorite appendage here] down it's throat.
Growing up in the 80s and 90s, music was a huge part of my creativity and I'd say is a significant part of my character development as it takes the framework I've mentioned above and thrusts it deep inside it's own fantastical landscape, fleshing out the rest of the character's background to allow for stepping stones into story ideas/arcs, and any future shit that can be vomited up.
Before the question of "How do you build your characters" disappears forever into the RPGN archives, I should probably answer it:
Primarily, the basis of my characters stem from my own life and the people I've encountered growing up in a middle-class family in South Boston, going through the trials of adolescence and gangs, moving from one dark corner of the US to another followed by yet another, selling anything I could to satisfy whatever vice got me by at the time, relationship hopping like it was going out of style, and then trying to raise two kids on my own who mean the world to me...
...all the while hoping upon hope that I lived to the next day.
I tend to draw from a sense of surviving in a world that doesn't really give two shits about who you are and is doing all it can to push you away unless you have the balls enough to push back even harder. To stare opposition in the face like the twisted bitch that it is, and shove your [insert favorite appendage here] down it's throat.
Growing up in the 80s and 90s, music was a huge part of my creativity and I'd say is a significant part of my character development as it takes the framework I've mentioned above and thrusts it deep inside it's own fantastical landscape, fleshing out the rest of the character's background to allow for stepping stones into story ideas/arcs, and any future shit that can be vomited up.
“You’re wrong”
“What’d ya say?” The bearded man hissed, his face contorting into a picture of anger as he rose from his seat in the mess hall, wiping a bit of spaghetti sauce from his lips, and slamming his fork down onto the metal table.
“I said...You. Are. Wrong.” The huskiness of her words was followed by a pierced tongue sticking out at the man standing a few feet from the girl.
A yellow-toothed grin formed across the man’s face as he slowly drew closer until a mere couple of inches from her face, his foul garlic breath causing her to wince.
“Wrong about what exactly?” Both hands curled into fists, and a low guttural growl emanated from the man’s throat.
Vic smirked, enjoying the rise that she elicited from the guy known as Curtis, a man who gave her just as much shit, if not more, on a daily basis. He didn’t like her for reasons of his own, but she knew his main problem was that she wasn’t like them. And yet she was fine with that either way.
“You gonna punch me Curtis?” She said after a few moments, raising an eyebrow as though intrigued by his threatening gesture. “Or, are you too chicken shit to hit a girl? Oh wait, I know what it is.” She snorted, clearly amused by the fact that she knew something about the older man in front of her. “See, you’ve been down this road before haven’t you? And the last time you hit a woman in this shit hole we call a ‘home’, you were thrown in a tiny cage for what? A month?...”
Curtis clenched his teeth as his breathing grew heavier. “Okay. You’re relatively new here and clearly have a few loose screws in that pretty head, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and let that slide.”
“But why?” Vic plopped down onto the bench the man was previously seated at, causing her to look up at the angry face of her opponent as he stared down through eyes that could catch fire at any moment. “I like you Curtis. I think you’re one of the only straight shooters around this dump...” She paused and then grinned. “Even though you smell like a wet dog rolled in it’s own shit most of the time.”
There was, what one could consider, an awkward moment of silence between the two save for the ambience of others eating and chatting it up at other tables, mostly unconcerned with what was going on between them except for the soldier standing near the far corner of the mess watching the whole matter.
“O’Brien!” The guard yelled, causing Curtis to snap his attention toward the source of the voice across the room. “Sit your ass down, finish your meal, and leave her alone!”
The bearded man narrowed his eyes as he stared at the guard for a moment before returning his attention to Vic, shaking his head in disbelief and allowing his angered expression to subside as he started walking past where the girl was sitting. “I’ve lost my appetite anyway…”
He suddenly stopped a few feet from her and turned around, a quizzical expression plastered on his face. “So what was it you were accusing me of being so ‘wrong’ about?”
“Hm? Oh…” She looked up at him and shrugged. “I have no fucking clue really, but I’m sure you’ve been wrong about a shit ton of things in your pathetic and abusive life, so figured I’d point that out to you in case it wasn’t obvious.”
“Bitch I’ll-” He growled, almost ready to pounce on her with all of the inner beast he could muster up just to shred that smug look from her face. But he didn’t, knowing that she was no doubt playing him for a fool considering she was one of the girl’s that he had become violent with, and she knew that one more outburst like that would most likely get him exiled or simply killed by one of the officers, or perhaps even Sergeant Major Mitchell herself.
“I’ll see you around...Ms Helix.” He finally said with a wry grin, knowing she wasn't a huge fan of someone addressing her in that manner, and turned around to exit the mess hall.
Vic sat there for a moment, watching him as he left, before sliding over toward his food tray and picking through whatever random meats and vegetables still looked edible, as well as shoving a half-eaten oatmeal cookie in her jacket pocket for later.
“What’d ya say?” The bearded man hissed, his face contorting into a picture of anger as he rose from his seat in the mess hall, wiping a bit of spaghetti sauce from his lips, and slamming his fork down onto the metal table.
“I said...You. Are. Wrong.” The huskiness of her words was followed by a pierced tongue sticking out at the man standing a few feet from the girl.
A yellow-toothed grin formed across the man’s face as he slowly drew closer until a mere couple of inches from her face, his foul garlic breath causing her to wince.
“Wrong about what exactly?” Both hands curled into fists, and a low guttural growl emanated from the man’s throat.
Vic smirked, enjoying the rise that she elicited from the guy known as Curtis, a man who gave her just as much shit, if not more, on a daily basis. He didn’t like her for reasons of his own, but she knew his main problem was that she wasn’t like them. And yet she was fine with that either way.
“You gonna punch me Curtis?” She said after a few moments, raising an eyebrow as though intrigued by his threatening gesture. “Or, are you too chicken shit to hit a girl? Oh wait, I know what it is.” She snorted, clearly amused by the fact that she knew something about the older man in front of her. “See, you’ve been down this road before haven’t you? And the last time you hit a woman in this shit hole we call a ‘home’, you were thrown in a tiny cage for what? A month?...”
Curtis clenched his teeth as his breathing grew heavier. “Okay. You’re relatively new here and clearly have a few loose screws in that pretty head, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and let that slide.”
“But why?” Vic plopped down onto the bench the man was previously seated at, causing her to look up at the angry face of her opponent as he stared down through eyes that could catch fire at any moment. “I like you Curtis. I think you’re one of the only straight shooters around this dump...” She paused and then grinned. “Even though you smell like a wet dog rolled in it’s own shit most of the time.”
There was, what one could consider, an awkward moment of silence between the two save for the ambience of others eating and chatting it up at other tables, mostly unconcerned with what was going on between them except for the soldier standing near the far corner of the mess watching the whole matter.
“O’Brien!” The guard yelled, causing Curtis to snap his attention toward the source of the voice across the room. “Sit your ass down, finish your meal, and leave her alone!”
The bearded man narrowed his eyes as he stared at the guard for a moment before returning his attention to Vic, shaking his head in disbelief and allowing his angered expression to subside as he started walking past where the girl was sitting. “I’ve lost my appetite anyway…”
He suddenly stopped a few feet from her and turned around, a quizzical expression plastered on his face. “So what was it you were accusing me of being so ‘wrong’ about?”
“Hm? Oh…” She looked up at him and shrugged. “I have no fucking clue really, but I’m sure you’ve been wrong about a shit ton of things in your pathetic and abusive life, so figured I’d point that out to you in case it wasn’t obvious.”
“Bitch I’ll-” He growled, almost ready to pounce on her with all of the inner beast he could muster up just to shred that smug look from her face. But he didn’t, knowing that she was no doubt playing him for a fool considering she was one of the girl’s that he had become violent with, and she knew that one more outburst like that would most likely get him exiled or simply killed by one of the officers, or perhaps even Sergeant Major Mitchell herself.
“I’ll see you around...Ms Helix.” He finally said with a wry grin, knowing she wasn't a huge fan of someone addressing her in that manner, and turned around to exit the mess hall.
Vic sat there for a moment, watching him as he left, before sliding over toward his food tray and picking through whatever random meats and vegetables still looked edible, as well as shoving a half-eaten oatmeal cookie in her jacket pocket for later.
Agreed. Although the funny part is I made that comment before reading his IC, so now I get why he made his OOC post.
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