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Author Topic: Character Stories...  (Read 48540 times)
pspeed
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« on: October 06, 2012, 11:05:26 PM »

Sometimes I jot down little notes about some example player characters.  The idea is to try to tell a story from a player character's perspective, ie: the character a player creates to play the game... what would the world look like through their eyes.  Maybe these provide some insight into the way I view the world.  Maybe they describe stuff that will manifest in the game.  Maybe some are just an interesting story I have fun writing.

Eventually the plan is that these will become part of the main site with little character bios.  In the mean time, I'm considering posting bits and pieces here and there for others to read.  You may have already seen the one about Fayd Tallwin buried in some other thread.  I may also repost it here for posterity.

Some nights, creativity outstrips coding discipline and these little short stories are what results.  Last night was one such night.

So without further ado, I bring you the first installment (roughest of rough drafts) of "The Tales of Shasour Soong", an avian, outcast for losing his ability to fly.  I'm not a great writer or anything but maybe you find it interesting.

Quote
From The Tales of Shasour Soong

He was a man of few words and his story was too bitter to share,
anyway.  Shasour Soong preferred it up here in the rigging, away
from the other crew, wearing his solitude like a warm cloak.  On
days like today, where the morning mist hung low and the breeze
was cool, he could almost feel like he was flying again.

He heard motion nearby and below.

Pallon, the only other avian crew member aboard the Dragonfish,
was climbing up behind him.  Nine months into this job and
the two were still awkward in the rigging but their movements
were light-footed.  It was easy to tell the difference from
the rest of the crew.  While the seasoned sailors were able to
deflty climb the ropes and ladders with ease, they also made the
wood and rigging creak heavily under their weight.

"The storms will hold off for another few hours at least", Shasour
offered unasked as his friend perched beside him.

Pallon nodded, "And probably pass to the west if my itch is right."

Shasour agreed.  Something was still odd about this weather
but he chose to keep his speculations to himself.

Without another word, he climbed down, leaving Pallon to his
watch.  He wished he could just jump and float down lazily on
the breeze but his left wing's ball joint was still healing and there
were still rips and sprains in the right-side flights.  His wings
were kept bundled and tied behind him, strapped to his back like
a rolled up sail.  Gravity hung around his neck like a stone anchor.

But he was the lucky one.  His wounds would heal.  Pallon was to
be forever a ground-walker now.  Neither would ever be welcomed
home again.  That was the way.  That was always the way.

In the first few months aboard ship, he and Pallon had nearly killed
themselves a dozen times attempting to step lightly off the rigging
as confident as a bird.  The crew had some experience with avian
outcasts and had insisted on safety tethers.  It was the only thing
that had saved their lives.

Slowly the lessons sunk in and now they were both constantly aware
of "down".  A brief pang of sadness passed through Shasour at the
thought.  He missed the naivety of his own past.  "Falling" was an
entirely new concept and, in a way, a loss of innocence.

The sun was beginning to cut through the mist as he caught up with
the captain.  The man stood rigid behind the helmsman, grogginess
about his eyes, and a steaming mug of tea cupped in his hands.  The
ship moved and rocked beneath his worn boots but it was as if
he was a fixed point in space, about which the ship tilted.

"How goes, Mr. Soong?", the captain asked lightly.  He never looked at
Shasour directly.  The older man's eyes were ever fixed on the
horizon, never stopping in one place for long.

"Hits in a few hours.  Likely to pass west", there was an unsaid
"but" and captain Martin picked up on it.

The seasoned captain of the Dragonfish caught Shasour's gaze.  It
was friendly and dangerously serious at the same time.  The captain
had a way of getting to the point quickly without uttering a word. 
Shasour respected that.  This man surely had his own stories to
tell, he thought.

Shasour shifted uncomfortably on the heaving deck.  He slightly
cowered under the captains hard gaze and relented.  "There is
something odd about this weather", Shasour started, "Pallon would
never have smelled it but there is a magic in it..."

The captain didn't even let him finish.  The lingering sleep
cleared from his head instantly, as if a fog was lifted.  He jumped
to the railing, hanging onto a thick support line overhead.
"Hoy!", he shouted down to the crew, "Eyes about and prepare to
hold fast.  Tie down anything ya' care about."

He started to jump down but fluidly spun around again as if
remembering an afterthought, "And wake the big boys and have
them bring their finest cutlery.  If Mr. Soong's nose is right, we're
gonna have guests soon."

...
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Tsuku
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« Reply #1 on: October 07, 2012, 02:18:26 AM »

Haha cool, maybe you should put this in some ingame books. Pt 1, 2, 3 etc. haha
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Iggyjeckel
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« Reply #2 on: October 07, 2012, 05:00:52 AM »

Very nice
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ap0r
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« Reply #3 on: October 07, 2012, 07:46:48 AM »

Ingame books, so skyrim-ish Cheesy

I should write a character story about a wizard Cheesy
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Michael
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« Reply #4 on: October 07, 2012, 07:56:13 AM »

Ingame books, so skyrim-ish Cheesy

I should write a character story about a wizard Cheesy

Or that creepy old guy across the street Wink
(lol had to say that!)
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pspeed
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« Reply #5 on: October 07, 2012, 10:33:21 AM »

Ingame books, so skyrim-ish Cheesy

I should write a character story about a wizard Cheesy

I think it's kind of an RPG staple.  Bioware games as far back as Baldur's Gate have had in game books so numerous you just stopped reading them after a while.

It's tougher to include in-game books in Mythruna since I either have to not have them refer to any real cities or places or I have to somehow adapt the stories to the current world.  But maybe.
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Iggyjeckel
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« Reply #6 on: October 07, 2012, 10:39:13 AM »

Maybe have the stories be small back stories of before the shattering.

And maybe a few of the first to cross into mythruna, you said we eventually forgot the reasons for why we have started traveling, maybe these stories can help.


Maybe have dragons keep them hidden and they must be decyphered
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pspeed
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« Reply #7 on: October 07, 2012, 10:51:30 AM »

Maybe have the stories be small back stories of before the shattering.

And maybe a few of the first to cross into mythruna, you said we eventually forgot the reasons for why we have started traveling, maybe these stories can help.


Maybe have dragons keep them hidden and they must be decyphered

The purpose is obscured for a reason as a) there really isn't one, and b) being purposeless lets the player decide what their purpose is.  Maybe it's to enslave as many worlds as possible.  Maybe it's to put the wrongs right.... up to you to decide and I don't want to push that on anyone.
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BenKenobiWan
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« Reply #8 on: October 07, 2012, 01:50:24 PM »

Nice story! There are some awkward points, but overall, well written. Especially if it's as rough a draft as you say.

On a side note, I enjoy writing. If you for some reason want a story written, maybe I could help. I do understand that you do it for fun, though.
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pspeed
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« Reply #9 on: October 07, 2012, 02:02:28 PM »

Nice story! There are some awkward points, but overall, well written. Especially if it's as rough a draft as you say.

Thanks.  I did nothing more "editing-wise" than read it out loud to see if there were any "hard to narrate" parts and fixed some of the wording based on that.

I have another part half-written that I will work on sometime.  Each new part may require corrections to the previous parts so I avoid trying to edit too much.  Plus, that's less fun. Smiley
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Michael
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« Reply #10 on: October 07, 2012, 02:20:35 PM »

Paul trade me brains...
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belgariad87
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« Reply #11 on: October 07, 2012, 04:27:38 PM »

Some nights, creativity outstrips coding discipline and these little short stories are what results.  Last night was one such night.
The balance is what makes you perfect for the job  Wink
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« Reply #12 on: October 07, 2012, 04:46:12 PM »

Rofl unn
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pspeed
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« Reply #13 on: October 09, 2012, 12:29:20 AM »

Part two... very rough but I should leave it alone now that the cold medicine is kicking in:

Quote
The decks below them were a flutter of activity as the crew made
ready, tying off lines and clearing loose cargo.  Half a dozen
fully armed men emerged from below-decks, the pillow still heavy on
their brow.  They spread out and took up positions as if looking
for ideal picnic spots.  No one knew for sure the danger approaching
and any haste was forced at best.

Shasour begin to feel a deep sense of foreboding.  Their trips
on the Dragonfish had all been peaceful up until now.  Cargo trips
from the western isles to the mainland keys, south to the desert
towns of Jal, and back along the coast north up as far as Kingsford
and the tri-cities.  Cargo, the occasional passenger, and Shasour
and Pallon keeping them around the weather.  It had been pretty boring
so far.  With the impending battle, he was suddenly facing memories he
had kept buried.  "Why do these things always happen at dawn?", he
wondered.

The golden rays of morning bounced cheerfully on the waves and it
vaguely reminded him of home.  From the upper heights of Wizard's Watch,
he remembered standing on the crumbling ramparts and seeing the sun
play off the mountains.  Waves of earth pushing up with sun kissed
tips of snow.  When he closed his eyes, he could still hear the
snarls and screams.  Still smell the sweet stench of avian blood all
around him... on him.  The crying.  The children.

He hadn't known Pallon very well back then.  Pallon Windrider was
the second son of the chief, second in line for ascension, and trained
as battle leader.  Whenever his brother would have ascended to chieftain,
Pallon would have commanded the warrior captains.

Shasour, on the other hand, always kept to the fringe.  He was different.
His magic sense set him apart from the others and he preferred not
to draw attention.  Outsiders were not normally viewed with compassion
and there had not been an adept in the tribe for over 200 years.
That was the way.  Effectively, that was always the way.

As fate had it, they were both together when the attack on the aerie
began all those months ago.  Relieving the gargoyle watch as they
returned to stony slumber with the sunrise, the first line avian
warriors were slammed by a superior force.  The early part of the
battle was brutal and decisive.

It was rare for an aerie to be attacked by ground-walkers.  Rarer still
to be attacked by such a swift and coordinated multiracial force.  For
reptilian and pantherian mercenaries to have been working together would
have seemed impossible had Shasour not seen it with his own eyes.  But it
was a blow from the club of reptilian dreadhulk that threw him over
the wall, slamming into the ground.  And it was a pack of pantherian
infantry that finally pushed Pallon and his men through the gates. 

It was the wanton slaughter of the young avians that still puzzled him.
Over half of the groundlings were cut down in their beds before the camp
even knew what was happening.  The young avians, too young yet to fly,
were felled like cordwood and dragged off before enough strong flyers
were rallied to help the rest escape.  Shasour still doesn't know how
many were saved as no young bodies had been left behind.

The other dead, wounded, and crippled were left where they fell by the
tribe when they escaped.  It was the way.  It was always the way.

He had laid buried in a heap for the rest of the day.  His entire left
side was broken and he hadn't the strength to move the bodies stacked on
top of him.  It hurt to breath.
 
In that early morning light, he could hear the moans and cries of other
survivors.  He could not help them.  He concentrated on his own breathing.

By midday the sun had risen high in the sky and was baking the corpses.
Pools of blood became thick and sticky and the air was a fog of rotting
death.  The sounds from the other survivors faded and gave way to the
buzzing of flies and other insects.  He slept.

His sun parched eyes cracked open in time to see the last trails of sunset
disappear over the walls.  Several of the gargoyles had been smashed
to rocky chunks by the attack but the remaining sentries began to stir and
regain mobility in the fading daylight.  With large strong hands they began
picking through the bodies, gently sorting the living from the dead as one
might pick the meaty nuts from a smashed shell.  They tossed aside the dead
like refuse and gingerly helped the living to beds.

Only five survivors had made it to sunrise.   
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belgariad87
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« Reply #14 on: October 09, 2012, 04:08:12 AM »

Part two... very rough but I should leave it alone now that the cold medicine is kicking in:
your sick ?!  Sad FEEL BETTER SOON PAUL!
... on a side note, i can't wait for the final part, these are good!
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