Rules of the game: - Provide a response your character may exhibit in the situation defined by the post before yours - You are not allowed to add side characters that are not alluded to in the situation - Create a situation of your own - Your situation must be at the same level of difficulty as the one you responded to, or harder. NO MEMBER MAY POST MORE THAN TWICE IN ANY TWENTY POST THREAD PAGE. Posts which violate this rul;e will be deleted. along with any posts that depend on that post. Situation: MC comes home one day, and sees a gang breaking into his home.
Jared Slovnyk melted into the shadows. A razor-sharp blade appeared in his hand, then he reconsidered and a loop of piano wire replaced the knife. No point making a mess in his home turf. Seven minutes later, he backed his black van to the back door and began loading the bodies. Two and a half hours after that, police cordoned off an alley behind a night club, and interviewed the quaking dishwasher who found four corpses in the Dumpster. Situation: MC wakes up to find the room filled with smoke. The doorknob is burning hot, and flames are rising outside the window.
(Nice one Cogito - you say SO MUCH - in so few words. Sorry I don't have that gift. Here's my answer to your situation Kissnyet coughed into his Cpap sleep apnea mask and discovered the air tube was infected with smoke. Tearing off the headgear, he lumbered his 420 pound self to the rope hanging from the ceiling in the closet and pulled-down the attic stairway. Grasping the wood sides of the folding ladder, his arms pulled his girth foward, while his short stubby legs pushed against the bedroom shag carpeting and made his whole self leaped, albeit slowly, to the first step. The sweat from the ripples in his belly shown through his 4x t-shirt as he repeated the process six more times until he finally reached the uppermost rung and was faced with an opening that would be spacious for most humans, but was several inches too narrow for Kissnyet to squeeze through. As he pondered the problem he looked down and saw flames had started to darken the wood on the first step of the ladder and were licking toward to bottom of the second step. He belched and as he wiped his mouth he remembered what he always carried in his pocket: a large tube of chapstick to help his lips stay moist and succulent. He pulled the tube out from his front pocket, grabbed the cap and started to smear the waxy substance all around his middle, and with a great deal of force - and some help from the plethura of sweat - Kissnyet made it up through the hole and lay spent on the floor of the attic. After some deep breaths, he got up and charged through the single window and landed on the roof with a thud that broke the plywood sheeting from the sound of it. Wasting no time, Kissnyet slid down the roof slope and landed in the upper branches of the tall maple tree in the back yard. He carefully rested one foot on a branch nearest the trunk and held on for dear life with a branch just slightly above his head and slowly made his way down the tree over the next three and one-half hours. Situation: While doing community service cleaning up a congested and way overgrown yard your MC finds a cell phone with no buttons, but plenty of lights and shortly after opening it a life-sized hologram appears inches away from your MC, looks at your MC and says, "So? What do you want?"
I just have to say I really love this kind of thread before starting this off. And I, too, have to congratulate you deeply, Cogito. You, sir, win the internetz, as they say. OK, so here I go: Daniel cautiously places the mobile phone back on the ground and considers the question. "What do you want?" What did he want? "I want Windie to be safe." he says firmly. "Ah, oh yes, like her you do, mister Yonderman. I bet you do, young boy, yes ...", quirks the holographic figure, who has now come to resemble an old, cloaked man, fitted with a petrifying horror of a raspy voice. Curious more than anything Daniel asks back the same question to the hologram: "What do you want?" "What I want?" "Yes.", says Daniel, "You asked me. I answered. Now I ask you. Now you answer." "To be perfectly honest ...", says the old man's voice. "I want to kill you!" And as it yells that the hologram grows rapidly bigger and bigger. Daniel steps back a couple of metres, weaponises Bladeslinger, and throws himself forward, landing, with Bladeslinger in his right hand, on the wet grass, with said vasstitious smashing the mobile phone into thousands of small pieces of equal size. He immediately ceapontrificates. Then, as he lies there, he first hears the glass shatter, the sound somehow being delayed a second or so, then he hears an indistiguishable whispering, croaking voice emitting from where the hologram had been only said second ago, and then there's utter silence. After lying for an unnecessarily long time in the tall, wet grass Daniel gets up, wipes water, mud, grass, glass and sweat off of himself and turns around 180 degrees and leaves, never to return. "Screw that money.", he thinks to himself while mentally adding a talking hologram to the rather long list of mysterious things that have happened in his life. "It's right up there with being able to stop my little brother from murdering me just because I noticed his incorrect use of vocabulary, ... Well, maybe not, actually, that was pretty ... ridiculous ...", Daniel not wanting to think about the fact that he ended up killing Theodore instead. Daniel has always seemed to be quite of an improviser. Edit: Looking back now (it's just under a year ago that I wrote and posted it) I find this incredibly embarrassing to read. I don't think it's mainly because I've grown as an author, but rather that the choices of words etc. looks so simple and not thought through enough. It's not like the scenario described in this text can be used in the actual novel, though, anyway. Dan experiences many interesting technological and magical objects in his life, but never does he have anything to do with holograms. They're basically considered hokum where he lives. Never did he have any job anything like the one described here, either, and he was never ever even that interested in money or needed much more of it. He did kill his younger brother Theodore, though, but that's a different story ... Your MC has just been pushed off of the tallest building in the city by his/her archenemy. What does he/she do? How does he/she survive?
Unfortunetly, No. I thought through several senarios and unless there were poles or something jutting out the side of the building, she wouldn't be able to save herself. Your MC must decide between letting a total stranger die or a relative they really don't like die. Whom do they choose?
Well, let's see. Her uncle is an alcoholic, yells at the women that he has tromping over at his apartment (that turned out to be a very unpleasant stay-over) and holds no regard to the sanctity of her personal space. Do you even need to ask? So your MC has to make the most gut-wrenching choice of his/her life. Does she order an omelet, an order of pancakes, or the Farmer's Market for breakfast at Bob Evans? Note, she only has $12,000 to spend today.
Will fiddled with the piece of plastic in his pocket and ran his thumb along the embossed writing on it, heart pounding. He wasn't convinced that anyone was really going to accept a card in exchange for food, but Liam had laughed at his doubts and simply sent him off to the counter. There were people in t-shirts as well as what Will discovered was called a 'business suit', and a couple of bouncing kids with bags on their shoulders, all straining their necks to read the large horizontal sign above the staff. Will frowned at several of the images: lumps of meat drowned in a brown-coloured sauce, white fluffy-looking dollops atop some kind of biscuit cone. He played with the card, watching the people in front of him carefully. Excuse me, yes, that's all, and can you make that a large: these seemed to be the standard phrases. "How may I help?" a cheerful female voice asked, jolting Will back to the present. He blinked several times at her, while she smiled kindly back in her red and white uniform and hat. Will opened his mouth, but nothing came out as he stole a second look at the menus above. What the heck was that roll of chicken stuck on a stick called? A colourful word was scrawled beneath it, but he couldn't read it, so he just pointed. "That, please. May I have that, please?" The woman turned towards the signs and shook her head. "I'm afraid we don't serve that until 11." Will instinctively looked at his watch, and nearly cursed himself when he realised he had no idea how to tell the time. He searched desperately for another good-looking picture above the girl. "Please select from our breakfast menu," the girl said, gesturing above her. The green section on the right - that's the breakfast menu. Will's eyes latched onto that and skimmed quickly over his options. A splatter of yellow egg that resembled what a dog might throw up, a fancy looking plate with sausages and eggs and mushrooms - yes, that would do. Will was about to order when suddenly he saw it: a pile of pancakes, he knew pancakes, Arlia used to make them. Only this photo had some kind of syrup and butter dripping gorgeously all down the sides and blueberries too. His mouth watered. "I'll have the pancakes, please." "Will that be a regular?" Will glanced up at it. Shook his head with a satisfied smile. "Large, please." As he handed over his card, he thought of Arlia, waiting for him in their cottage. He wished she could be here, wished she could try these pancakes. Would he ever find his way home? -------- Your MC wakes up and finds that he/she has been turned into a rat. He/she doesn't know how or why and has lost all ability to speak or act a way that would resemble a human being (or whatever their original form was). What does your MC do?
Acts like a rat? Your MC has the choice between letting a homeless man starve to death, and letting a loved one go hungry for a two weeks but survive.
. For Fred, it was a no-brainer. Homeless people, like pandas and other endangered species, contribute nothing to society. Rather, they tweak emotions, engender pointless altuistic behaviour, and cost lots of tax-payers' and charities' money. Evolution would have them die out. That's the order of things. Artificial survival is not survival of the best-adapted. His loved-one would survive. The homeless man wouldn't. Fred had a heart and fed the homeless man. Your MC is leaning over a cliff hedge hanging on to his wife/husband (in danger of falling to their death). There's an acrimonious divorce pending...
"You and your Christian Louboutin shoes, your fat ass, and sillicone melons!" Harvey hissed, groaning as his wife Marci, soon to be ex, clung to his arm, screaming as she dangled over a cliff in Malibu. His arm, muscles tearing, felt as if it would telescope out. Hopeful dreams of Inspector Gadget, more than likely he'd wind up in surgery. Okay, he could drop her. She's gotten so fat, it's sandy down there maybe she'd bounce. If only he could remove each of her acrylic nails from his forearm. Bye Bye alimony. He spat out the grass that clung to his lips, flecks of it spattering Marci. "Harvey! Don't you dare think of dropping me!" Downright spooky how she could read him. "Would I do that sweet ums?" He snarled attempting another heft but muscles screamed in protest. His arm dropped and his shoulders slid out into air over the cliff. Crumbles of dirt showered Marci. "I'll come back from the dead and haunt you!" Ebenezzer had Jacob Marley with his chains, he'd get Marci with her rattling charm bracelet, and banshee wail - toilet seat dooooown. A gust of wind toppled the champagne bottle, acting as paperweight, on his Mercedes, sending their divorce papers swirling by. "Do I get Summers End?" He grinned. The yaht, the biggest toy in their tug-o-war. "Never!" She hissed, and swinging her other hand up grabbed hold of Harvey's shoulder. Pulled. "Hey!" He felt himself rock forward. The beach seemingly a mile down pitched dizzily in view. Marci kicked off her two thousand dollar heels. Now she kicks them off and started to climb over Harvey who protested grabbing hunks of grass, feeling his body sliding towards the edge. “Stop! Stop!” The only thing that kept him from toppling headlong was Marci straddling him. “What was that about a fat ass?” She cooed and stood up. Your mc wakes up to discover he/she has switched genders
Hazato yawned,and his voice was a softer pitch. He threw the covers off of his bed, and looked at the mirror. His hair came down to his back,his face was rounder, and his chest was replaced by small breasts. Hazato tapped his watch's screen. "Conduct a body analysis," he said. Purple lines came from the screen and criss-crossed his body. "Anomaly detected," said the watch. "Subject,Hazato Sin, has had an increase in estrogen levels and a decrease in testosterone levels." "Can it be reversed?" Hazato said. Hundreds of small holographic squares came from the screen. They piled themselves in the air. and only one square was brought to Hazato's face. "This is the most promising article on gender modification,written by scientist Harold Meyers." "How did this happen?" Hazato said. "The most probable scenario is that another Fighter did it." "What's the probability?" Hazato said. 'Point zero zero zero zero zero zero one percent." Your MC is at sea, underwater, and a shark wants to eat him/her.
Savina kicked in the direction she thought led up, fighting the pull of the water that dragged down her clothing. Legs and arms flailed in the black depths. Her limbs were heavy and stiff with cold. The shock of it left her breathless, but she couldn’t gasp. With water engulfing her, even the swish as she tossed her head from side to side was dampened. Savina fought her every instinct, telling her to breathe in as her chest started to ache. She struggled blindly in the ocean and only hoped she was making progress. Savina caught a hint of lighter water up ahead and forced her body to keep moving. With difficulty she began to find the rhythm of swimming. That was when the creature came. The first Savina knew of it was the rough skin that cut her as it brushed past. Red spilled out into the ocean. A set of open jaws appeared before her face. Dozens of vicious teeth dove toward her. Bubbles of air rushed from Savina’s mouth as she let out a soundless shriek and thrust herself aside. The shark streaked past and disappeared back into the pitch. Savina turned herself all around searching for it but she could see nothing. Up, she thought. I must keep going up. Coloured spots dancing before her eyes, Savina broke the surface and bobbed there, gasping – Until a set of teeth closed around her thigh, dragging back down, down, down . . . Ok, your MC just found out that their worst enemy/rival just one the lottery and has become a millionaire.
