Post by abunaibijin on Nov 6, 2006 14:51:44 GMT -5
**Explanation**
Ok, this is more or less a roleplay, though not in the traditional sense of a story that is interacted between certain characters.
It's a game I discovered and liked on Gaia Online, don't know if any of you have played it or anything, but it's called "what would your character do".
How you play is I will ask a situational question, and you respond with a short (or long ) message roleplaying your character's response to the sitch. Then, you post a new situational question. I will give some examples. ^-^
Warning, I DO swear. Especially when RPing Malchus, even though technically, the words I use don't belong in the Star Wars universe. Mal's life is just screwed up enough that I need something expressive enough, and I haven;t found anything in the SW universe. ^-^
Contains references to drugs, angst, and booze.
Scenario: Your character is eating dinner at a crummy restaurant with a good friend. Apparently your good friend has some issues with the city's mafia and they come in the restaurant and start to beat the shit out of him/her.
What would your character do?
Name: Malchus
Sex: Female
Age: 19
Malchus sat across the bar from him, watching Solo handle his girlfriend and prospective clients, not surprised when she saw Greedo enter, but damn it, he was her contract. Granted, the Hutts had made it an open bid, but she was here to collect.
She felt anger rise in her chest as Greedo sat across from Solo and trained his blaster on him, and then extreme satisfaction as Solo blew Greedo into the next sector. Maybe he wasn't such a bad guy after all.
She rose and paid her - and his - tab, and then left. She'd fill the contract on him later.
(In other words, Malchus IS the mafia. =o)
New Scenario: Your character has suddenly been proposed by her/his rival (regardless of the rival’s gender x3) with a tampon! What to do?
Malchus was alone, content by herself in the emptiness of the room, the darkness caressing her skin comfortingly...
And then the figure of Boba Fett loomed over her, his stance confident, his helmet hiding all intentions. Malchus felt her lip curl up in a sneer, her hand moving to the sabers on her belt, but his next action cause her to jump backward as he drop to one knee.
He did not speak, but grasped her hand in his before she could react, tying a string around her finger. She gaped down at her ring finger, the white OB tampon dangling off showing clearly what he meant... well no, not really.
She was still pondering this when the Bounty Hunter pulled her to him roughly, and she found her lips pressed awkwardly into the smoky t-shaped visor of his helmet.
She sat up in bed suddenly, breath coming hard, and stared at her hand, which thankfully was devoid of anything, but had somehow gone numb during her sleep. She cradled her forehead in her hand momentarily before turning a glare to the package next to her bed.
"I swear, that is the last time I touch that Wookie stuff. Before bed time anyways."
((Yay for frequent mentioning of drugs made by Wookies. =P))
New scenario:
Your character finds himself facing an old friend... one now deceased. Certain that this apparition is NOT drug induced but in fact a real person and is decidedly hostile, how would s/he react?
THIS ONE'S GONNA BE LONG.
Malchus had hit an all time low; her contract had gone sour when the prick she had been hunting blew himself into microscopic bits, the Hutts had wanted him alive, and she had been plagued lately with a craving for her Wookie drugs, whatever they called that shit.
Instead of taking that stuff, since for one she didn't have any on her, and for another that stuff really screwed with her head, she sank miserably to the steps outside the bar she had been thrown out of, the half full bottle of their best Abyssinian alcohol clutched tightly in her hand.
She leaned back against the cool stucco building, angry with herself for being so drunk so early in the day as the sun kissed the hills goodnight on the horizon and cast eerie shadows down the empty streets of the district, but she tossed the bottle back anyways, unwilling to sober up at the moment.
Her dreams had been haunting her.
She swirled a few drops of the blood colored liquid in the bottom of the bottle, startled by the sense of a presence that seemingly appeared next to her from nowhere. She decided to stop drinking.
She turned to face whoever it was sitting near her and nearly fell off the steps as the familiar face registered with her foggy brain, even as she tried to reject the idea of the dead come back to life.
"W-West-"
The young blond man who sat by her turned to her, and she saw the anger and venom in his glare before the burn scars on his throat where she had plunged her saber so long ago.
She jerked away from him shakily, staggering drunkenly back as he rose fluidly, calmly, his accusing glare cutting her soul.
"Mal."
He still sounded the same. Her Dear West. The voice brought back memories, so many painful memories, and she screamed wildly, clutching at her eyes as she fell to her knees.
"Don't come near me West!"
He ignored her plea and stepped toward her, his glare intense as he reach for her, and she jerked away.
"I had to... I had to West, don't touch me..."
He grasped her arm, his grip tight, and jerked her towards him menacingly.
"So you're the one who killed him, you-"
He seemed to struggle with his words, unable to find an insult that could cut deep enough to describe the incredible loathing he felt for her, and he shoved her toward a vacant building instead, at the same time jerking her utility belt from her and tossing it into the street.
"You are going to regret being born."
Inside she was thrown to the cold floor, her head pounding, her heart racing, tears streaming down her face.
"I didn't want to kill you West. I loved you. But I had to. I thought- I thought I had to."
Her words enraged him further and he yanked her up by the front of her shirt, her face inches from his, and she could practically smell his anger.
"What do you know about love, you..." Words again failed him. "You took from me the only thing in this universe that I had to love. You killed my brother, and you're going to pay for it you little bitch."
Malchus' mind scrambled to take in the information he had given her. West's brother. She had known he had a brother, but to look exactly like him... down to the scars... She glanced at his throat again to see that the scars were gone, a figment of a guilty imagination, induced by her alcoholic stupor. She wilted in his arms and he again dropped her to the floor.
"I won't kill you. But you're going to wish you were dead."
His voice was cold and flat, devoid of emotion.
"I already do."
Alrighty, you got the picture? Try to stick to one character if you can, but it's not required.
Scenario: Your character wakes up one morning and finds out that they accidentally got married the night before, but they don't remember it at all.
Ok, this is more or less a roleplay, though not in the traditional sense of a story that is interacted between certain characters.
It's a game I discovered and liked on Gaia Online, don't know if any of you have played it or anything, but it's called "what would your character do".
How you play is I will ask a situational question, and you respond with a short (or long ) message roleplaying your character's response to the sitch. Then, you post a new situational question. I will give some examples. ^-^
Warning, I DO swear. Especially when RPing Malchus, even though technically, the words I use don't belong in the Star Wars universe. Mal's life is just screwed up enough that I need something expressive enough, and I haven;t found anything in the SW universe. ^-^
Contains references to drugs, angst, and booze.
Scenario: Your character is eating dinner at a crummy restaurant with a good friend. Apparently your good friend has some issues with the city's mafia and they come in the restaurant and start to beat the shit out of him/her.
What would your character do?
Name: Malchus
Sex: Female
Age: 19
Malchus sat across the bar from him, watching Solo handle his girlfriend and prospective clients, not surprised when she saw Greedo enter, but damn it, he was her contract. Granted, the Hutts had made it an open bid, but she was here to collect.
She felt anger rise in her chest as Greedo sat across from Solo and trained his blaster on him, and then extreme satisfaction as Solo blew Greedo into the next sector. Maybe he wasn't such a bad guy after all.
She rose and paid her - and his - tab, and then left. She'd fill the contract on him later.
(In other words, Malchus IS the mafia. =o)
New Scenario: Your character has suddenly been proposed by her/his rival (regardless of the rival’s gender x3) with a tampon! What to do?
Malchus was alone, content by herself in the emptiness of the room, the darkness caressing her skin comfortingly...
And then the figure of Boba Fett loomed over her, his stance confident, his helmet hiding all intentions. Malchus felt her lip curl up in a sneer, her hand moving to the sabers on her belt, but his next action cause her to jump backward as he drop to one knee.
He did not speak, but grasped her hand in his before she could react, tying a string around her finger. She gaped down at her ring finger, the white OB tampon dangling off showing clearly what he meant... well no, not really.
She was still pondering this when the Bounty Hunter pulled her to him roughly, and she found her lips pressed awkwardly into the smoky t-shaped visor of his helmet.
She sat up in bed suddenly, breath coming hard, and stared at her hand, which thankfully was devoid of anything, but had somehow gone numb during her sleep. She cradled her forehead in her hand momentarily before turning a glare to the package next to her bed.
"I swear, that is the last time I touch that Wookie stuff. Before bed time anyways."
((Yay for frequent mentioning of drugs made by Wookies. =P))
New scenario:
Your character finds himself facing an old friend... one now deceased. Certain that this apparition is NOT drug induced but in fact a real person and is decidedly hostile, how would s/he react?
THIS ONE'S GONNA BE LONG.
Malchus had hit an all time low; her contract had gone sour when the prick she had been hunting blew himself into microscopic bits, the Hutts had wanted him alive, and she had been plagued lately with a craving for her Wookie drugs, whatever they called that shit.
Instead of taking that stuff, since for one she didn't have any on her, and for another that stuff really screwed with her head, she sank miserably to the steps outside the bar she had been thrown out of, the half full bottle of their best Abyssinian alcohol clutched tightly in her hand.
She leaned back against the cool stucco building, angry with herself for being so drunk so early in the day as the sun kissed the hills goodnight on the horizon and cast eerie shadows down the empty streets of the district, but she tossed the bottle back anyways, unwilling to sober up at the moment.
Her dreams had been haunting her.
She swirled a few drops of the blood colored liquid in the bottom of the bottle, startled by the sense of a presence that seemingly appeared next to her from nowhere. She decided to stop drinking.
She turned to face whoever it was sitting near her and nearly fell off the steps as the familiar face registered with her foggy brain, even as she tried to reject the idea of the dead come back to life.
"W-West-"
The young blond man who sat by her turned to her, and she saw the anger and venom in his glare before the burn scars on his throat where she had plunged her saber so long ago.
She jerked away from him shakily, staggering drunkenly back as he rose fluidly, calmly, his accusing glare cutting her soul.
"Mal."
He still sounded the same. Her Dear West. The voice brought back memories, so many painful memories, and she screamed wildly, clutching at her eyes as she fell to her knees.
"Don't come near me West!"
He ignored her plea and stepped toward her, his glare intense as he reach for her, and she jerked away.
"I had to... I had to West, don't touch me..."
He grasped her arm, his grip tight, and jerked her towards him menacingly.
"So you're the one who killed him, you-"
He seemed to struggle with his words, unable to find an insult that could cut deep enough to describe the incredible loathing he felt for her, and he shoved her toward a vacant building instead, at the same time jerking her utility belt from her and tossing it into the street.
"You are going to regret being born."
Inside she was thrown to the cold floor, her head pounding, her heart racing, tears streaming down her face.
"I didn't want to kill you West. I loved you. But I had to. I thought- I thought I had to."
Her words enraged him further and he yanked her up by the front of her shirt, her face inches from his, and she could practically smell his anger.
"What do you know about love, you..." Words again failed him. "You took from me the only thing in this universe that I had to love. You killed my brother, and you're going to pay for it you little bitch."
Malchus' mind scrambled to take in the information he had given her. West's brother. She had known he had a brother, but to look exactly like him... down to the scars... She glanced at his throat again to see that the scars were gone, a figment of a guilty imagination, induced by her alcoholic stupor. She wilted in his arms and he again dropped her to the floor.
"I won't kill you. But you're going to wish you were dead."
His voice was cold and flat, devoid of emotion.
"I already do."
Alrighty, you got the picture? Try to stick to one character if you can, but it's not required.
Scenario: Your character wakes up one morning and finds out that they accidentally got married the night before, but they don't remember it at all.