It's short. Just over half of my last two posts. But there wasn't much I could describe without controlling other characters as marginally as I already did. If you have a problem with what I have controlled, then let me know and I can sort it.
The Scotsman
Member
STATUS:
I love those times when you've got a few really good, high-potential stories in the making and all you wanna do is write. It's like all my stars have aligned.
6 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 3 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: The Scotsman
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 705 (0.18 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- The Scotsman 11 yrs ago
Status
Recent Statuses
6 yrs ago
Current
I love those times when you've got a few really good, high-potential stories in the making and all you wanna do is write. It's like all my stars have aligned.
3
likes
6 yrs ago
I also feel like the idea that there is now a hypothesised generational divide between people who used to 'RP' on IM and people who write good content on forums is pathetic. Why start this crap?
1
like
6 yrs ago
You could also have long-form stories over text, however complaining about long-form, detailed posts (as this began as), seems both ludicrous and worthy of IM.
1
like
6 yrs ago
Sometime it's less about writing some shitty slice-of-life RP in IM, and more about creating a coherent and valued story among like-minded people. Something you'd need an actual platform for.
2
likes
6 yrs ago
I always forget how quiet it is here in the British mornings. Timezones are not our friend.
1
like
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
"Whatever."
No, whatever to you, bitch, Jack thought. He couldn't explain what was going on with himself, because he didn't know. He was guessing, trying to repair the situation between him and Robyn as he knew how. Grovelling like a dumb dog. Not anymore. He was sick of it. He had a job to do. As he swiveled on his heels to meet the repair crew, Jack was interrupted by Aria. She was a mess. "Woah, what the hell's going on? Did someone hit you? Did someone fucking hit you, Aria?" he queried, anger bubbling up like soup forgotten on the stove. He took the papers from her and flicked through the stack, barely taking his eyes off the blubbering, bleeding girl standing before him. Jack was getting confused, and her next statement about being a kitten was making things worse. The irritation was building into animosity. "Goddammit Aria, who said this to you? Never before have I said that. God fucking dammit, is someone giving you hassle? Look, listen, I've never said that. You're my friend, so why would I talk shit behind your back? I wouldn't do that, and you know it," he said, calming himself from 'nuclear shutdown' to 'damn, stepped in mud again'. "I'm going down to the grid with Braden soon, just gonna finish clearing this place up first. Come with me? I'll need someone to read the instruction manual for the screwdriver for me," Jack joked, forcing a smile out of the snot-smeared face of the little girl. He grinned along with her and then he looked down at the note Aria had scrawled down for him. ...dead girl... ...nightmare creature... Jack shut his eyes. He hadn't read any note. There wasn't a note. Maybe he would find it after he was done with the lights.
Jack stood up and ran his hands through his hair. Playing with his hair hurt, like it had been in place so long that it was cemented like in that position and when it moved it ripped chunks out of his scalp, but it was the sort of pain you couldn't stop. It hurt but it was refreshing. Jack rubbed his temples, feeling the blood rushing through the vein on the left of his forehead. It pulsed viciously when a headache was forming, and now it was pumping like the heart of a man in chase. Agonisingly, he opened his eyes. Despite how dark it was, it was still too bright. And there, like an awkward ghost, stood Vanessa. Jack signed for her to come talk to him. The patchy red bandages on her arms told him that she enjoyed the same refreshing pain Jack did, just on vastly different scales. Vanessa told him that she was leaving the group. Jack laughed internally. Where the fuck would she go? She was stuck in here with the rest of us, and she couldn't do anything about it. "Really? You're going to leave us? And where are you going? Why are you going? Let's be honest here. You're going to stay in the building with us, not really leaving at all but actually just being a disadvantage to everyone. We need people to pull their weight. That doesn't include lazing about. Do you know what you're going to do if you leave? Because food is for those who earn their keep, and keep this school running. Are you intending on secluding yourself from everyone or still popping along and seeing us during visiting hours?" Jack asked. Rule #5 was disintegrating before his eyes. He couldn't have a student simply upping and leaving the group, wandering around the enormous school, not doing anything in particular. It was counter-productive. Once they realised they can complain their way out of the work, they would. After that everything would crumble. Jack shook his head angrily, like he was trying to get those itchy grains of sand out of his hair. "Come back when you have a plan, I'm busy the now," he ordered. Why people just didn't do what they had to, he didn't know.
The boy sighed. Before today, Jack would've considered himself a man. He could fix a car, he handled his money, he could do DIY stuff around the house if need be, and he could go out and drink like a man. But today humbled him. He no longer felt like he was ready for the world, not this new, unexplored world. The sad fact was, Jack only felt comfortable in a world pioneered by his ancestors. When the prospect of writing the book of Earth 2.0 crossed his mind, he was worried he would not be able to put pen to paper. He was scared that he would keep everyone in the stages of cave paintings. No evolution if no-one lead the revolution.
Braden was with the Grease Monkeys, probably discussing what they may need, how they should proceed, and anything else that was important. Jack slipped into the shadows outside of the halo of the group. Braden could run his crew well. They listened attentively, recognising a seasoned Shopper when they spoke. Orders were handed out to prepare something or another, or collect overalls. The Monkeys listened and left to get what they had to. "Glad I made the right decision, buddy," Jack said, stepping into the glow of the phone screen. "I want to come with you, down to the grid. If I deal with any more stupid up here I might actually jump from the roof. I'm gonna bring Aria too. Something happened, so she's... I dunno, whatever, right now, but she's clever so I figured it wouldn't hurt. I've been down there before so I know the lay of the land, but I seriously need out of here. But how many Monkeys do you think we have? Because I have a little something I want to make, and I'm going to need your best," Jack explained, wondering whether now would be a good time to tell the Head Monkey what he planned to create. It was now or after. Now would allow Braden time to tell Jack he was being dumb and that it couldn't be done, but he didn't want to preoccupy the guy. After would only make the Monkeys feel overwhelmed. They weren't lazy people, far from it, but two large tasks straight after each other? That was how people got tired of their leader and deposed them. Jack settled for telling him now. "Listen, I want to build some heavy-armour transport. There's a scrapyard about a half-mile down the hill and they're bound to have some four-wheelers, maybe even an old bus. If not there's a bus depot a little further away. But I want some heavy duty transport that can survive an attack if necessary and have the specs to be able to carry stuff. We can't hole ourselves up forever, we'll need to venture out for food and supplies. And if those things are as strong as they are awful, then we're fucked twelve ways from sundown. Do you think your boys can handle it?" Jack asked tentatively. It was a tall order, to say the least. They had repaired cars before, practically rebuilt them, but this was something else. It would require refitting a big-ass vehicle for the appropriate tasks, super-pimping the engine and everything to go with that, and then adding onto the vehicle itself to ensure its safety, counter-balancing everything to make sure the project didn't go tits up when they were out, isolated. "What do you say, bud? You up for a challenge?"
No, whatever to you, bitch, Jack thought. He couldn't explain what was going on with himself, because he didn't know. He was guessing, trying to repair the situation between him and Robyn as he knew how. Grovelling like a dumb dog. Not anymore. He was sick of it. He had a job to do. As he swiveled on his heels to meet the repair crew, Jack was interrupted by Aria. She was a mess. "Woah, what the hell's going on? Did someone hit you? Did someone fucking hit you, Aria?" he queried, anger bubbling up like soup forgotten on the stove. He took the papers from her and flicked through the stack, barely taking his eyes off the blubbering, bleeding girl standing before him. Jack was getting confused, and her next statement about being a kitten was making things worse. The irritation was building into animosity. "Goddammit Aria, who said this to you? Never before have I said that. God fucking dammit, is someone giving you hassle? Look, listen, I've never said that. You're my friend, so why would I talk shit behind your back? I wouldn't do that, and you know it," he said, calming himself from 'nuclear shutdown' to 'damn, stepped in mud again'. "I'm going down to the grid with Braden soon, just gonna finish clearing this place up first. Come with me? I'll need someone to read the instruction manual for the screwdriver for me," Jack joked, forcing a smile out of the snot-smeared face of the little girl. He grinned along with her and then he looked down at the note Aria had scrawled down for him. ...dead girl... ...nightmare creature... Jack shut his eyes. He hadn't read any note. There wasn't a note. Maybe he would find it after he was done with the lights.
Jack stood up and ran his hands through his hair. Playing with his hair hurt, like it had been in place so long that it was cemented like in that position and when it moved it ripped chunks out of his scalp, but it was the sort of pain you couldn't stop. It hurt but it was refreshing. Jack rubbed his temples, feeling the blood rushing through the vein on the left of his forehead. It pulsed viciously when a headache was forming, and now it was pumping like the heart of a man in chase. Agonisingly, he opened his eyes. Despite how dark it was, it was still too bright. And there, like an awkward ghost, stood Vanessa. Jack signed for her to come talk to him. The patchy red bandages on her arms told him that she enjoyed the same refreshing pain Jack did, just on vastly different scales. Vanessa told him that she was leaving the group. Jack laughed internally. Where the fuck would she go? She was stuck in here with the rest of us, and she couldn't do anything about it. "Really? You're going to leave us? And where are you going? Why are you going? Let's be honest here. You're going to stay in the building with us, not really leaving at all but actually just being a disadvantage to everyone. We need people to pull their weight. That doesn't include lazing about. Do you know what you're going to do if you leave? Because food is for those who earn their keep, and keep this school running. Are you intending on secluding yourself from everyone or still popping along and seeing us during visiting hours?" Jack asked. Rule #5 was disintegrating before his eyes. He couldn't have a student simply upping and leaving the group, wandering around the enormous school, not doing anything in particular. It was counter-productive. Once they realised they can complain their way out of the work, they would. After that everything would crumble. Jack shook his head angrily, like he was trying to get those itchy grains of sand out of his hair. "Come back when you have a plan, I'm busy the now," he ordered. Why people just didn't do what they had to, he didn't know.
The boy sighed. Before today, Jack would've considered himself a man. He could fix a car, he handled his money, he could do DIY stuff around the house if need be, and he could go out and drink like a man. But today humbled him. He no longer felt like he was ready for the world, not this new, unexplored world. The sad fact was, Jack only felt comfortable in a world pioneered by his ancestors. When the prospect of writing the book of Earth 2.0 crossed his mind, he was worried he would not be able to put pen to paper. He was scared that he would keep everyone in the stages of cave paintings. No evolution if no-one lead the revolution.
Braden was with the Grease Monkeys, probably discussing what they may need, how they should proceed, and anything else that was important. Jack slipped into the shadows outside of the halo of the group. Braden could run his crew well. They listened attentively, recognising a seasoned Shopper when they spoke. Orders were handed out to prepare something or another, or collect overalls. The Monkeys listened and left to get what they had to. "Glad I made the right decision, buddy," Jack said, stepping into the glow of the phone screen. "I want to come with you, down to the grid. If I deal with any more stupid up here I might actually jump from the roof. I'm gonna bring Aria too. Something happened, so she's... I dunno, whatever, right now, but she's clever so I figured it wouldn't hurt. I've been down there before so I know the lay of the land, but I seriously need out of here. But how many Monkeys do you think we have? Because I have a little something I want to make, and I'm going to need your best," Jack explained, wondering whether now would be a good time to tell the Head Monkey what he planned to create. It was now or after. Now would allow Braden time to tell Jack he was being dumb and that it couldn't be done, but he didn't want to preoccupy the guy. After would only make the Monkeys feel overwhelmed. They weren't lazy people, far from it, but two large tasks straight after each other? That was how people got tired of their leader and deposed them. Jack settled for telling him now. "Listen, I want to build some heavy-armour transport. There's a scrapyard about a half-mile down the hill and they're bound to have some four-wheelers, maybe even an old bus. If not there's a bus depot a little further away. But I want some heavy duty transport that can survive an attack if necessary and have the specs to be able to carry stuff. We can't hole ourselves up forever, we'll need to venture out for food and supplies. And if those things are as strong as they are awful, then we're fucked twelve ways from sundown. Do you think your boys can handle it?" Jack asked tentatively. It was a tall order, to say the least. They had repaired cars before, practically rebuilt them, but this was something else. It would require refitting a big-ass vehicle for the appropriate tasks, super-pimping the engine and everything to go with that, and then adding onto the vehicle itself to ensure its safety, counter-balancing everything to make sure the project didn't go tits up when they were out, isolated. "What do you say, bud? You up for a challenge?"
I'll post today at some point, and I'll make Jim stay with Casey.
WELL WE'VE GOAT DAFFODILS
@The Scotsman
I wish I had a counter argument to that but...http://uncyclopedia.wikia.com/wiki/Geordies
So...yep - can't really argue.
Highlights include the 'prerequisites' and the 'warrior culture of Geordie males'; "The brick is revered as an elegant and deeply spiritual weapon throughout the world; but no culture is more deeply intertwined with this mysterious artifact than that of the Geordies...."
I actually forgot how pinpoint accurate all of Uncyclopedia was.
@The Scotsman
Haha - what's up with Geordie?! There's a great accent - about as easy to understand as Scottish....:P
At least us Jocks have a certain... decorum...
@The Scotsman
Haha! Fear not! Just Derbyshire (not really that distinctive, accent-wise...) - so midlands, but more northern when compared to the south!
Ah, that's alright then. I was worried for a minute...
@The Scotsman
Yep, I feel your pain...once started another RP on another site (one of my first, back in the day!) - which I was pretty damn proud of - but after I'd accepted a load of characters and made the first IC post, I returned to about 3/4 pages of posts! Yep...kinda spiralled out of control...
I much prefer casual. I daren't take the leap to advanced, especially as I can't write too much at the moment because of upcoming exams...I take one look of some of the threads and balk!
@ViolentViolet
The general American/Canadian accent (I know, I know that they're different but I've never heard enough of either!) interests me, in comparison to my boring English one! Especially since my accent's not that posh, as I'm more northern than southern....
That's pretty much it.. I have to pre plan just for this story, put aside a few hours to actually sit down and write.
Please tell me you're not a Geordie...
@The Scotsman
I like rain. I love rain. If I went there, I would be love it if it were your definition of great, or my definition. Sunsets and all that are pretty here (even though it's all just flat, here Texas, the Great Plains of 'MURICA), but I love rain more.
Oooooh, last year, I had this class that was in a portable (At the time, too many classes and too few rooms, so they moved in some portables permanently), and it was right after lunch, and it started raining
Oh
that was awesome
I was soaked by the time the bell rang
Also fun when it was snowing
I'd make faces and messages in the snow
or just roll around in it
yeah
I enjoy rain too, it makes me feel cosy and give same a reason to be lazy. But not in April/May, and not for 4 days straight. There's a time and a season for that bollocks, and it ain't now. But I've been to Texas, and holy hell on a barbecue it's warm there. Best steaks I ever had though, and Mexican food. San Antonio is drowning in Mexicans. The Riverfront is just store after store of Mexican food, knick-knacks, it's great. The old ladies in the shops are so lovely.
<Snipped quote by Andromeda>
Well, I'm originally from Georgia the state, but right now I'm stationed in Germany for a couple years. And as for the username, way back in middle school, my best friend and I were big into military sims and Star Wars, so he had the callsign CT327 (Clone Trooper 327) and I had GR327 (Grim Reaper 327). For the longest time GR327 was my username and gamertag but it got to the point where it seemed weird for people to call you "GR" or make a growling sound, so I changed it to Grim327 to make it better to hear. As for the number "327" during the Clone Wars of Star Wars, there was a unit called the 327th Star Corps that was featured in Episode III. We thought they were badass, so we "borrowed" their number.
Can I just say that that may be the best explanation for a username I've ever heard?
@The ScotsmanAll of my known family lives in Canada, so I'm not sure where our roots are. I think my grandfather's dad was the one who initially settled here, and I don't know anything about the man.
Ah. You should totally visit anyway, the north of Scotland is gorgeous during the Spring and Summer, if you manage to avoid the rain and get great weather.
@The Scotsman
Haha! Well I guess the English can't claim innocence when it comes to calling scots...;D
And, believe me; I've very much lived through the hardships of GMT...having to sign off before everyone else, which is annoying, especially when I've been in quick-fire RPs, where you return to 30(upwards) unread posts...
We're really just as bad as each other hahah. You just described my entire RPGuild life. It's so difficult sometimes. I started off as a Free writer so it was difficult to find a story that worked at my pace. Casual is working better, but even then only when it's higher levels closer to Advanced where I manage to catch a break.
© 2007-2024