lets do this....
Great to have you!
The Scotsman
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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)
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- The Scotsman 11 yrs ago
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6 yrs ago
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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.
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Most Recent Posts
Great to have you!
Ben runs into the kitchen, his knees scraped with blood and dirt, his hair full of twigs and the biggest smile on his face. "Mum! Mum! Can we watch TV with dinner tonight? Pleeeeeaaaaase mum!" he asks repeatedly, his high-pitched begging beginning to grate on Martha's recurring headache.
"No! You always watch that rubbish, it's time for the grown ups to watch their own programs," she says, sternly putting him down. His lower lip trembles and snotters begin to run down his nose and onto his lip in the disgusting way you know that their just going to lip their lips after they've wiped away the largest drips. Martha shudders inside but doesn't let it show over the physical agony of mashing the potatoes. Her grimace covers the sour thoughts of her child. He would simply complain for hours on end if she didn't allow it. "Fine! Go clean yourself up, you are a complete mess. No way are you sitting on my couch like that," she said, glad to see him charge out of the kitchen towards the bathroom. Callum, her husband, entered after the young one vanished.
"What was that about?" he asked, the darkened circles of a 10-hour work day as clear as the sea, adorning his under-eye's.
"Ben begged me to watch Primetime Wartime again. I said no, but he just kept begging and begging. So I gave into him. Again. I can't believe my son enjoys that horror show. You've seen what it does to them, and my child enjoys it? He's a fucking psychopath, watching that show has ruined my boy. He's even talking about joining the military now, and runs around shouting about 'killing those stupid Stellons'. He's going to end up on that TV in 10 years, going through the same shit we see those men subjected to, and some other 8 year old is going to be screaming what he is and his parents are going to be having this same damn argument!" Martha said. Her voice had been rising until suddenly it fell, as she did too to the ground, racking tears making her body jiggle on tiled floor.
"I know what you mean. He won't listen to me when I try and explain what's actually happening, and he can't understand that it isn't a show, and it isn't a game. I don't even know if he realises what's actually going on," Callum said. He placed a hand on her shoulder and another on the back of her head, pulling her in for a tentative hug. "I don't even think he knows what's happening."
It's been 10 years since humanity began its crusade on the only alien lifeforms it has encountered. Seemingly being human instinct, the foreign ship, peacefully sailing by Earth without a second glance, was shot down by Inter Planetary Ballistic Missiles (IPBMs for short), spraying cosmo flotsam down on the Pacific Ocean. Scientists and Xenophiles across the planet banded together to determine who this invader was, soon named the Stellons. Astrophysicists tracked their direction and velocity back to a star system hundreds of millions of kilometres away, now titled 'Django-1'. Mankind pulled together it's resources and launched the Alrekur, a Capital ship carrying 6,000 troops, squadrons of fighters, and some intensely heavy weaponry designed for defence. Meaning the best defence is a good offence.
At home, millions of miles away, live feeds from the helmet cameras are streamed on to televisions, cruelly named 'Primetime Wartime' where families on their couches can watch war with a bucket of popcorn for only $99 a year. A bargain. And from their armchair they can watch soldiers get gutted by the Stellons, or trip and fall on a landmine, often accompanied by the shrill laughter of a safe family. Judging and analysing like a football game, they'll meet up at work and discuss where the Sergeant went wrong on the last patrol or why Davidson is unworthy of leadership for not charging the bunker. All the while the soldiers on the front line have their minds unravelled as they go insane, trying to not come off as a coward while preserving their lives. There is no middle ground on war, and the spectators are ensuring it's entertaining.
To summarise, this will be about a group of soldiers being deployed to another solar system to fight a race who hadn't instigated the war. They will have to struggle with their opinions on the war while watching good men die and worse men live, all the while dealing with the psychological terror of millions of viewers getting front row seats to their own little self-apocalypse.
Advanced Interest Check (please read! More example of what we're aiming for and good for information!) from a while back on the first attempt: http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/93802-starship-troopers-the-forever-war-meets-death-race/ooc
This is an attempt to revive this idea from over 2 years ago. Not everything stated here is written in stone and if your idea brings something new and great to the story then I'm more than happy to put that in. Thanks! Hope to hear from you soon!
"No! You always watch that rubbish, it's time for the grown ups to watch their own programs," she says, sternly putting him down. His lower lip trembles and snotters begin to run down his nose and onto his lip in the disgusting way you know that their just going to lip their lips after they've wiped away the largest drips. Martha shudders inside but doesn't let it show over the physical agony of mashing the potatoes. Her grimace covers the sour thoughts of her child. He would simply complain for hours on end if she didn't allow it. "Fine! Go clean yourself up, you are a complete mess. No way are you sitting on my couch like that," she said, glad to see him charge out of the kitchen towards the bathroom. Callum, her husband, entered after the young one vanished.
"What was that about?" he asked, the darkened circles of a 10-hour work day as clear as the sea, adorning his under-eye's.
"Ben begged me to watch Primetime Wartime again. I said no, but he just kept begging and begging. So I gave into him. Again. I can't believe my son enjoys that horror show. You've seen what it does to them, and my child enjoys it? He's a fucking psychopath, watching that show has ruined my boy. He's even talking about joining the military now, and runs around shouting about 'killing those stupid Stellons'. He's going to end up on that TV in 10 years, going through the same shit we see those men subjected to, and some other 8 year old is going to be screaming what he is and his parents are going to be having this same damn argument!" Martha said. Her voice had been rising until suddenly it fell, as she did too to the ground, racking tears making her body jiggle on tiled floor.
"I know what you mean. He won't listen to me when I try and explain what's actually happening, and he can't understand that it isn't a show, and it isn't a game. I don't even know if he realises what's actually going on," Callum said. He placed a hand on her shoulder and another on the back of her head, pulling her in for a tentative hug. "I don't even think he knows what's happening."
It's been 10 years since humanity began its crusade on the only alien lifeforms it has encountered. Seemingly being human instinct, the foreign ship, peacefully sailing by Earth without a second glance, was shot down by Inter Planetary Ballistic Missiles (IPBMs for short), spraying cosmo flotsam down on the Pacific Ocean. Scientists and Xenophiles across the planet banded together to determine who this invader was, soon named the Stellons. Astrophysicists tracked their direction and velocity back to a star system hundreds of millions of kilometres away, now titled 'Django-1'. Mankind pulled together it's resources and launched the Alrekur, a Capital ship carrying 6,000 troops, squadrons of fighters, and some intensely heavy weaponry designed for defence. Meaning the best defence is a good offence.
At home, millions of miles away, live feeds from the helmet cameras are streamed on to televisions, cruelly named 'Primetime Wartime' where families on their couches can watch war with a bucket of popcorn for only $99 a year. A bargain. And from their armchair they can watch soldiers get gutted by the Stellons, or trip and fall on a landmine, often accompanied by the shrill laughter of a safe family. Judging and analysing like a football game, they'll meet up at work and discuss where the Sergeant went wrong on the last patrol or why Davidson is unworthy of leadership for not charging the bunker. All the while the soldiers on the front line have their minds unravelled as they go insane, trying to not come off as a coward while preserving their lives. There is no middle ground on war, and the spectators are ensuring it's entertaining.
To summarise, this will be about a group of soldiers being deployed to another solar system to fight a race who hadn't instigated the war. They will have to struggle with their opinions on the war while watching good men die and worse men live, all the while dealing with the psychological terror of millions of viewers getting front row seats to their own little self-apocalypse.
Advanced Interest Check (please read! More example of what we're aiming for and good for information!) from a while back on the first attempt: http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/93802-starship-troopers-the-forever-war-meets-death-race/ooc
This is an attempt to revive this idea from over 2 years ago. Not everything stated here is written in stone and if your idea brings something new and great to the story then I'm more than happy to put that in. Thanks! Hope to hear from you soon!
Ben runs into the kitchen, his knees scraped with blood and dirt, his hair full of twigs and the biggest smile on his face. "Mum! Mum! Can we watch TV with dinner tonight? Pleeeeeaaaaase mum!" he asks repeatedly, his high-pitched begging beginning to grate on Martha's recurring headache.
"No! You always watch that rubbish, it's time for the grown ups to watch their own programs," she says, sternly putting him down. His lower lip trembles and snotters begin to run down his nose and onto his lip in the disgusting way you know that their just going to lip their lips after they've wiped away the largest drips. Martha shudders inside but doesn't let it show over the physical agony of mashing the potatoes. Her grimace covers the sour thoughts of her child. He would simply complain for hours on end if she didn't allow it. "Fine! Go clean yourself up, you are a complete mess. No way are you sitting on my couch like that," she said, glad to see him charge out of the kitchen towards the bathroom. Callum, her husband, entered after the young one vanished.
"What was that about?" he asked, the darkened circles of a 10-hour work day as clear as the sea, adorning his under-eye's.
"Ben begged me to watch Primetime Wartime again. I said no, but he just kept begging and begging. So I gave into him. Again. I can't believe my son enjoys that horror show. You've seen what it does to them, and my child enjoys it? He's a fucking psychopath, watching that show has ruined my boy. He's even talking about joining the military now, and runs around shouting about 'killing those stupid Stellons'. He's going to end up on that TV in 10 years, going through the same shit we see those men subjected to, and some other 8 year old is going to be screaming what he is and his parents are going to be having this same damn argument!" Martha said. Her voice had been rising until suddenly it fell, as she did too to the ground, racking tears making her body jiggle on tiled floor.
"I know what you mean. He won't listen to me when I try and explain what's actually happening, and he can't understand that it isn't a show, and it isn't a game. I don't even know if he realises what's actually going on," Callum said. He placed a hand on her shoulder and another on the back of her head, pulling her in for a tentative hug. "I don't even think he knows what's happening."
It's been 10 years since humanity began its crusade on the only alien lifeforms it has encountered. Seemingly being human instinct, the foreign ship, peacefully sailing by Earth without a second glance, was shot down by Inter Planetary Ballistic Missiles (IPBMs for short), spraying cosmo flotsam down on the Pacific Ocean. Scientists and Xenophiles across the planet banded together to determine who this invader was, soon named the Stellons. Astrophysicists tracked their direction and velocity back to a star system hundreds of millions of kilometres away, now titled 'Django-1'. Mankind pulled together it's resources and launched the Alrekur, a Capital ship carrying 6,000 troops, squadrons of fighters, and some intensely heavy weaponry designed for defence. Meaning the best defence is a good offence.
At home, millions of miles away, live feeds from the helmet cameras are streamed on to televisions, cruelly named 'Primetime Wartime' where families on their couches can watch war with a bucket of popcorn for only $99 a year. A bargain. And from their armchair they can watch soldiers get gutted by the Stellons, or trip and fall on a landmine, often accompanied by the shrill laughter of a safe family. Judging and analysing like a football game, they'll meet up at work and discuss where the Sergeant went wrong on the last patrol or why Davidson is unworthy of leadership for not charging the bunker. All the while the soldiers on the front line have their minds unravelled as they go insane, trying to not come off as a coward while preserving their lives. There is no middle ground on war, and the spectators are ensuring it's entertaining.
To summarise, this will be about a group of soldiers being deployed to another solar system to fight a race who hadn't instigated the war. They will have to struggle with their opinions on the war while watching good men die and worse men live, all the while dealing with the psychological terror of millions of viewers getting front row seats to their own little self-apocalypse.
Advanced Interest Check (please read! More example of what we're aiming for and good for information!) from a while back on the first attempt: http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/93802-starship-troopers-the-forever-war-meets-death-race/ooc
This is an attempt to revive this idea from over 2 years ago. Not everything stated here is written in stone and if your idea brings something new and great to the story then I'm more than happy to put that in. Thanks! Hope to hear from you soon!
"No! You always watch that rubbish, it's time for the grown ups to watch their own programs," she says, sternly putting him down. His lower lip trembles and snotters begin to run down his nose and onto his lip in the disgusting way you know that their just going to lip their lips after they've wiped away the largest drips. Martha shudders inside but doesn't let it show over the physical agony of mashing the potatoes. Her grimace covers the sour thoughts of her child. He would simply complain for hours on end if she didn't allow it. "Fine! Go clean yourself up, you are a complete mess. No way are you sitting on my couch like that," she said, glad to see him charge out of the kitchen towards the bathroom. Callum, her husband, entered after the young one vanished.
"What was that about?" he asked, the darkened circles of a 10-hour work day as clear as the sea, adorning his under-eye's.
"Ben begged me to watch Primetime Wartime again. I said no, but he just kept begging and begging. So I gave into him. Again. I can't believe my son enjoys that horror show. You've seen what it does to them, and my child enjoys it? He's a fucking psychopath, watching that show has ruined my boy. He's even talking about joining the military now, and runs around shouting about 'killing those stupid Stellons'. He's going to end up on that TV in 10 years, going through the same shit we see those men subjected to, and some other 8 year old is going to be screaming what he is and his parents are going to be having this same damn argument!" Martha said. Her voice had been rising until suddenly it fell, as she did too to the ground, racking tears making her body jiggle on tiled floor.
"I know what you mean. He won't listen to me when I try and explain what's actually happening, and he can't understand that it isn't a show, and it isn't a game. I don't even know if he realises what's actually going on," Callum said. He placed a hand on her shoulder and another on the back of her head, pulling her in for a tentative hug. "I don't even think he knows what's happening."
It's been 10 years since humanity began its crusade on the only alien lifeforms it has encountered. Seemingly being human instinct, the foreign ship, peacefully sailing by Earth without a second glance, was shot down by Inter Planetary Ballistic Missiles (IPBMs for short), spraying cosmo flotsam down on the Pacific Ocean. Scientists and Xenophiles across the planet banded together to determine who this invader was, soon named the Stellons. Astrophysicists tracked their direction and velocity back to a star system hundreds of millions of kilometres away, now titled 'Django-1'. Mankind pulled together it's resources and launched the Alrekur, a Capital ship carrying 6,000 troops, squadrons of fighters, and some intensely heavy weaponry designed for defence. Meaning the best defence is a good offence.
At home, millions of miles away, live feeds from the helmet cameras are streamed on to televisions, cruelly named 'Primetime Wartime' where families on their couches can watch war with a bucket of popcorn for only $99 a year. A bargain. And from their armchair they can watch soldiers get gutted by the Stellons, or trip and fall on a landmine, often accompanied by the shrill laughter of a safe family. Judging and analysing like a football game, they'll meet up at work and discuss where the Sergeant went wrong on the last patrol or why Davidson is unworthy of leadership for not charging the bunker. All the while the soldiers on the front line have their minds unravelled as they go insane, trying to not come off as a coward while preserving their lives. There is no middle ground on war, and the spectators are ensuring it's entertaining.
To summarise, this will be about a group of soldiers being deployed to another solar system to fight a race who hadn't instigated the war. They will have to struggle with their opinions on the war while watching good men die and worse men live, all the while dealing with the psychological terror of millions of viewers getting front row seats to their own little self-apocalypse.
Advanced Interest Check (please read! More example of what we're aiming for and good for information!) from a while back on the first attempt: http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/93802-starship-troopers-the-forever-war-meets-death-race/ooc
This is an attempt to revive this idea from over 2 years ago. Not everything stated here is written in stone and if your idea brings something new and great to the story then I'm more than happy to put that in. Thanks! Hope to hear from you soon!
Quick bump before I head to bed!
I'm just gonna bump this before I get a few hours sleep!
Hey, I saw above that it looks like you're not accepting more characters, but I thought I'd double check in the event that I was wrong. Thanks either way!
[ Action | Adventure | Gritty | Explorative | Player-Driven | Western ]
Inspired by Guillermo del Toro's cartoon on Netflix, this will be based on, but heavily adapted from, that. In the show there is only one Trollhunter protecting the humans and good trolls from the bad trolls (they're called Gumm-Gumm's but I'm really gonna have to change that). In the show the Trollhunter dons a mystical plate armour and sword but I'm thinking about scrapping a lot of that and purely going with the sword only and a firearm of sorts, to match the fighting style of the character. Also, the troll magic isn't explained in the show (it's magic), but I've been thinking of a method to explain some of the magic in a way that it will also help our story, as time-travelling trollhunters between the 19th century on the frontiers of America, and the ravaged 22nd century planet earth where the trolls have broke loose from their trapped dimension and obliterated humanity to it's very margins. We will, however, be spending very little time in the future earth and instead be focusing on the quests set forth in the Western era as we join up as a group or go solo to stop the trolls from successfully breaking free, and discovering that they're hiding secrets up their sleeves.
It'll be fairly adult, this story. Expect strong violence and language. Drug use can be involved but it must be appropriate to the setting (19th century narcotics or potential sci-fi drugs that could leak back to the 1800's). No sex, but romance is okay. Hoping for 10 people tops, but if I like your character enough I'll be happy to take as many as possible!
Expecting mid-Casual to Advanced levels of writing including grammatical skill and length.
Any questions, be sure to ask them here or PM me!
[ Action | Adventure | Gritty | Explorative | Player-Driven | Western ]
Inspired by Guillermo del Toro's cartoon on Netflix, this will be based on, but heavily adapted from, that. In the show there is only one Trollhunter protecting the humans and good trolls from the bad trolls (they're called Gumm-Gumm's but I'm really gonna have to change that). In the show the Trollhunter dons a mystical plate armour and sword but I'm thinking about scrapping a lot of that and purely going with the sword only and a firearm of sorts, to match the fighting style of the character. Also, the troll magic isn't explained in the show (it's magic), but I've been thinking of a method to explain some of the magic in a way that it will also help our story, as time-travelling trollhunters between the 19th century on the frontiers of America, and the ravaged 22nd century planet earth where the trolls have broke loose from their trapped dimension and obliterated humanity to it's very margins. We will, however, be spending very little time in the future earth and instead be focusing on the quests set forth in the Western era as we join up as a group or go solo to stop the trolls from successfully breaking free, and discovering that they're hiding secrets up their sleeves.
It'll be fairly adult, this story. Expect strong violence and language. Drug use can be involved but it must be appropriate to the setting (19th century narcotics or potential sci-fi drugs that could leak back to the 1800's). No sex, but romance is okay. Hoping for 10 people tops, but if I like your character enough I'll be happy to take as many as possible!
Expecting mid-Casual to Advanced levels of writing including grammatical skill and length.
Any questions, be sure to ask them here or PM me!
Shit. I used to be pretty regular in the Guild about 2 years ago (4 years with this account) and even before then with an old account. I just logged in today for the first time in years because I wanted to check out how the site was doing, and I'm reading this thread remembering all the classics and some of the usernames too. Time flies when you're growing up, I suppose. Even if you don't remember me, it was good to be reminded of this stuff. The old Mibbit chat was fun. The blorb's were great. The old Total War spam stories were brilliant. I just turned 20 two weeks ago, and of all the things that could've really drove home that I'm getting older now, it was being reminded of the stuff I used to think about in school; the stories I was creating with strangers, the discussions and arguments I'd had, the shit-talking on Mibbit. Ah well.
Maybe once I'm finished uni, and a little more in the clear, I'll come back. I want to. If not, I hope you all have a good time
Maybe once I'm finished uni, and a little more in the clear, I'll come back. I want to. If not, I hope you all have a good time
Not too bad, still dodging away. Work shifts coming outta my ears which is good, gotta save for uni and a scooter.
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