When I engage in exercise I find that purposefully recounting numbers, even if the exercise was performed correctly, increases the total number of motions I am able to perform in it. By this I mean, multiple counts to make up a single unit, a ratio effectively. I am not new to the multiple count method but I had not begun to dwell on it or its potential impact until recently. Suddenly forty or fifty count of a regularly thirty count exercise seems and more importantly feels more viable, allowing added improvement beyond the individual baseline.
The Harbinger of Ferocity Member
STATUS: Masses are always breeding grounds of psychic epidemics. 4 yrs ago- Last Seen: 3 yrs ago
- Joined: 10 yrs ago
- Posts: 3754 (1.01 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- The Harbinger of Ferocity 10 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
Vixere,
Dixie Fiend,
TokyoPewPew,
Shin Ghost Note,
Blizz,
Darth Cognus
Status
Recent Statuses
4 yrs ago
Current
Masses are always breeding grounds of psychic epidemics.
5 yrs ago
The highest, most decisive experience is to be alone with one's own self. You must be alone to find out what supports you, when you find that you can not support yourself.
1
like
5 yrs ago
One cannot live from anything except what one is.
5 yrs ago
The slave to virtue finds the way as little as the slave to vices.
5 yrs ago
The core of an individual is the mystery of life, which dies when it is 'grasped'. That is also why symbols want to keep their secrets.
Bio
The Harbinger of Ferocity
Agent of the Wild, Aspect of the Ferine
Nature, red in tooth and claw.
"There is, indeed, no single quality of the cat that man could not emulate to his advantage."
- Carl Van Vechten
I am, at my core, a personification and manifestation of those things whose blood and hearts run red with the ferocity of the animal world. It is this which convicts and controls my works, my writing, my being; the force and guidance in which I gain wisdom from. It is what inspires me as a creator and weaver of words, the very thing I admire as an author.
My leanings, savage as they are, are of the feline sort as there exists no greater lineage of beasts whom can be drawn from. No others captivate and motivate my talent and skill as the greatest of cats do.
Most Recent Posts
This is not so much an issue limited to duration of stay, it admittedly seems to be part of an issue where players are flightier than before. I can only suspect this comes in part from there being no real social consequence or expectations, @Laifan. As such, quality might be better than quantity. I would suggest to browse other topics and try to find another writer who seems active and tends to write in your direction of interest.
Back to facts, perhaps a simple one being that my reaction to alcohol, as it is that time of year for most, is not pleasant. It feels akin to being actually poisoned, inducing fatigue and an unwieldy sensation and only has the true outcome of effect of wishing me to sleep.
I would note appealing to a larger audience tends to be almost essential here, so that often splits into popular characters and their fandoms or very universal, very generic character pairings. As a whole, partners disappearing unexpectedly and not returning messages is not uncommon for the hobby now it seems. I believe this is a greater issue than just that facing any one roleplaying community, which I suspect has quite a bit to deal with the divergence from old groups and messengers and boards of old.
Persistence is another matter, in that a player with an interest check need keep trying to "bump" their topic to the first page, thus the focus, and often need do so daily in the hopes that they receive attention by anyone browsing. Essentially, success is not guaranteed, odds can only ever be shaped favorably to reach the goal, so one must approach it from many different angles to hedge their bets.
Persistence is another matter, in that a player with an interest check need keep trying to "bump" their topic to the first page, thus the focus, and often need do so daily in the hopes that they receive attention by anyone browsing. Essentially, success is not guaranteed, odds can only ever be shaped favorably to reach the goal, so one must approach it from many different angles to hedge their bets.
In
What's Your Favorite Moment That Happened in an RP? (It can be either your character or someone else's!)
→
6 yrs ago
Forum: Roleplaying Discussion
This story comes not from the Roleplayer Guild but elsewhere, at a tabletop far away, now some time ago.
The gist of it, so not to make it needlessly long, was that my players rolled for everything; a truly random, unpredictable table. They had always wanted to roll for their scores, their hit points, even play classes they had not regularly considered because of that. It was more classical that way, but each of them quickly developed characters they were highly protective of. They were weak, fragile, and faced by a world of overwhelming oppression where monsters did lurk in the night and wolves at your doorstep were truly mortal threats. Weak as they individually were, they strove to become something meaningful as they knew death in a low magic campaign was, effectively, permanent. They knew the powers of the arcane were dying, gods no longer answered prayers so the most powerful divine magic was limited, and magic items were scarce.
They were thrown into a story of turmoil where a storm of terror, conceptual and physical, raged against the countryside and left villages reduced to cinder and ruin; one character so happened to have rolled and survive said attack, thus had the only plot reason. Farmer turned paladin, forming a crusade against whatever and whoever was responsible, all they knew was terror seared into them. The player always asked for details here and there and like a therapist teasing apart of tangled knot of dreams, one that could not be so easily tugged apart, they learned more and more grim truth. It convinced them, then in turn convicted them to convince the rest of the party, who were mostly adrift. What is a story without story in a tabletop? All the world open, what to do?
Fight death of course, literal and metaphorical.
They pieced together a myth of the realm's reaper, a being of terrible and horrific power that did not sow strife, rather harvested the evils planted by people. But such a thing could not exist, all the great monsters were dead - dragons, titans, illithids, demons - what was the cause? They were sent on quest after quest, story after story, until they began to find tidings that this force was nothing so exotic. It was no coincidence these fringe towns were being consumed by thunderous storm or blinding fire or their people mauled and mangled. They came to delve deep barrows, searching ancient tombs and graves, pillaging one artifact that terrified them so, for it almost seemed to compel them, that they dared not to touch it; they even tried to cast the blade into a fire, but it showed no sign of fatigue. Instead it menaced and haunted them.
All four became ever more fearful of their quest as the odds played more stacked yet convinced constantly, roused by sheer chance circumstances their leader, the paladin, kept interpreting as fate - with no doing by the Dungeon Master - that this was what they needed to do. So they did, until they found the trail they had been looking for. That was when all the playful, eager, heroic banter ended. As they stalked through the woods of the deepest, unknown places, venturing out beyond what the meager maps of the world had charted into the north before the greatest peak in the range, the anxiety quickened.
The characters had prepared every moment of the game to fight this creature, the culmination of years of efforts playing. They had planned everything they needed based off of all the scattered fragments they could. But now? Now the mood changed and each of them was on edge. When the description was at last read and they faced the myth they created for themselves, they learned just how woefully wrong they were about the world's interpretation of death. All the folklore they had studied, all of it was imagination and creative interpretation by those involved, even the paladin himself.
I consider this my greatest success, as for several years I conned my players into inventing a web of lies and understandings they themselves believed in and out, all by their own creation, with I as the Dungeon Master not needing to do anything for it. This moment of success, that capitalized and epitomized this moment? The sheer pinnacle of the event where the climactic showdown was to take place at last?
The players were afraid to die.
They feared for their characters...
The gist of it, so not to make it needlessly long, was that my players rolled for everything; a truly random, unpredictable table. They had always wanted to roll for their scores, their hit points, even play classes they had not regularly considered because of that. It was more classical that way, but each of them quickly developed characters they were highly protective of. They were weak, fragile, and faced by a world of overwhelming oppression where monsters did lurk in the night and wolves at your doorstep were truly mortal threats. Weak as they individually were, they strove to become something meaningful as they knew death in a low magic campaign was, effectively, permanent. They knew the powers of the arcane were dying, gods no longer answered prayers so the most powerful divine magic was limited, and magic items were scarce.
They were thrown into a story of turmoil where a storm of terror, conceptual and physical, raged against the countryside and left villages reduced to cinder and ruin; one character so happened to have rolled and survive said attack, thus had the only plot reason. Farmer turned paladin, forming a crusade against whatever and whoever was responsible, all they knew was terror seared into them. The player always asked for details here and there and like a therapist teasing apart of tangled knot of dreams, one that could not be so easily tugged apart, they learned more and more grim truth. It convinced them, then in turn convicted them to convince the rest of the party, who were mostly adrift. What is a story without story in a tabletop? All the world open, what to do?
Fight death of course, literal and metaphorical.
They pieced together a myth of the realm's reaper, a being of terrible and horrific power that did not sow strife, rather harvested the evils planted by people. But such a thing could not exist, all the great monsters were dead - dragons, titans, illithids, demons - what was the cause? They were sent on quest after quest, story after story, until they began to find tidings that this force was nothing so exotic. It was no coincidence these fringe towns were being consumed by thunderous storm or blinding fire or their people mauled and mangled. They came to delve deep barrows, searching ancient tombs and graves, pillaging one artifact that terrified them so, for it almost seemed to compel them, that they dared not to touch it; they even tried to cast the blade into a fire, but it showed no sign of fatigue. Instead it menaced and haunted them.
All four became ever more fearful of their quest as the odds played more stacked yet convinced constantly, roused by sheer chance circumstances their leader, the paladin, kept interpreting as fate - with no doing by the Dungeon Master - that this was what they needed to do. So they did, until they found the trail they had been looking for. That was when all the playful, eager, heroic banter ended. As they stalked through the woods of the deepest, unknown places, venturing out beyond what the meager maps of the world had charted into the north before the greatest peak in the range, the anxiety quickened.
The characters had prepared every moment of the game to fight this creature, the culmination of years of efforts playing. They had planned everything they needed based off of all the scattered fragments they could. But now? Now the mood changed and each of them was on edge. When the description was at last read and they faced the myth they created for themselves, they learned just how woefully wrong they were about the world's interpretation of death. All the folklore they had studied, all of it was imagination and creative interpretation by those involved, even the paladin himself.
I consider this my greatest success, as for several years I conned my players into inventing a web of lies and understandings they themselves believed in and out, all by their own creation, with I as the Dungeon Master not needing to do anything for it. This moment of success, that capitalized and epitomized this moment? The sheer pinnacle of the event where the climactic showdown was to take place at last?
The players were afraid to die.
They feared for their characters...
I all too often concern myself with fantasies and scenarios that will never be played out with any character I have as I haven't the time or ability to portray them sufficiently in a roleplay or commit so totally to a roleplay as to afford them that chance.
The thick of the diverse fungi were not to the appreciation of the wilder, rather they posed more complications and questions than he wished. Rather than have the time to mull this over, someone, rather something based upon what his eyes could see among the darkness, was flapping its way about. He turned and sidestepped for the moment, back against the wall, hoping to break the line of sight of peering eyes that likely accompanied whatever it was; if an ambush could be set, all the better, and failing that throwing off whatever it was would not hurt. There was no telling yet what said beating wings belonged to, anything from bats to dragons came to mind in this odd amalgam of circumstance but there was no interest in the outlander in treating either case different.
All of the scene already into the cave, with steps and the sea of mushrooms, suggested to him the enemy was far, far more well established than he had ever thought them to be; the odds of this not being some creature defending the cult's cave was unreasonable. So the stubbled figure exhaled calmly, the point of the sword at ease against his boot and the cross serving to rest one arm, as prepared for whatever was next as one could be. What the others did from here he would not know until they did it...
... all he could hope was that they had the cunning to spring some sort of hasty trap.
@Hekazu@Ryonara@Gordian Nought@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen
All of the scene already into the cave, with steps and the sea of mushrooms, suggested to him the enemy was far, far more well established than he had ever thought them to be; the odds of this not being some creature defending the cult's cave was unreasonable. So the stubbled figure exhaled calmly, the point of the sword at ease against his boot and the cross serving to rest one arm, as prepared for whatever was next as one could be. What the others did from here he would not know until they did it...
... all he could hope was that they had the cunning to spring some sort of hasty trap.
@Hekazu@Ryonara@Gordian Nought@Lucius Cypher@Norschtalen
"A cat has absolute emotional honesty: human beings, for one reason or another, may hide their feelings, but a cat does not."
That it is, @Laifan, you may play via strictly private messages if you so wish. The majority of one-to-one pairing topics are as much despite the fact they have their own section. It is whatever both parties desire and agree to so that should pose you no issue. As far as the Discord is concerned, it is another way you could search for other players as there are channels dedicated to that purpose.
An unexpected, pleasant surprise that they were so readily downed, although a bit suspicious. Perhaps that is just my paranoia as a player or there really is more in store in short order. I would not find it implausible for this place to be trapped and more heavily guarded elsewhere.
© 2007-2024