The Snowflake of Characters (A Character Development exercise)

So... is the country called Greater Britain, or England? Milo wondered. The city is London, though. Hmmm. He'd never heard of this country... but then, he'd never paid much attention to maps. OK, OK, he thought deliberately, trying to keep calm. You're in a country you've never heard of, a cold one so probably to the south somewhere. What now?

"What happened to me?" he repeated. "I'm just... very lost. I come from Ceraliza." He tried a joking smile. "Sorry, I... I've never heard of your country." He shivered. "Is it always so cold here?"

edited 1st Dec '10 8:42:48 PM by LoniJay

Arthur groaned inwardly as the creep with the buggy eyes resurfaced. "Look, buddy, you're being pretty rude." he said, and that was all. Hidden under his winter coat and hunched against the cold was a physique that usually did most of the talking for him.

edited 1st Dec '10 8:44:18 PM by DaeBrayk

Spotting someone standing around idly, apparently watching the group, he decided to approach him. "Hey man, got a light?"

edited 1st Dec '10 8:47:09 PM by MidnightVelvet

"That's what they all say," Ivan said flippantly. "But until your mind can work on a higher level, your gauge of what exactly is rude or acceptable is substandard." He was not intimidated by Arthur despite the glaring height difference and even more glaring physique differences.

Arthur quirked an eyebrow, and when he spoke he sounded oddly sad. "You know what you just said...Ivan, yeah? You said that I'm too dumb for you to care about my standards. But then, you determined my intelligence—fine, my 'level of thinking,' it's the same thing,really...based on my standards not matching yours." He paused, waiting for the implications to become apparent. "You've closed yourself in a circle of reasoning where your standards are the only ones that ever matter. It's never a good idea to go around diregarding the standards of everyone else."

(OOC: Let's pause the action for a bit. I've a comment to make.

I do not like where we're about to go (again) — into 2-3 sentence land of brief replies. That does jack for immersion, story and our writing. A lazy, sloppy habit I wish for everyone to excise themselves of.

To illustrate: Imagine a real life conversation between two people. Amongst all the uhs, ahhs, and other idle talk, about one-fifth of the conversation holds actual meaning. One-fifth; that meaningful one-fifth is put into movies, plays and other fiction. Why?

If Star Wars had Luke Skywalker and Han Solo one-shoting each other at the canteen, and the whole movie was like that ... empty seats would be the only audience.

The same principle goes for us.

Let's try an updated standard. Each post should have at least a paragraph or two (paragraph five full sentences), and advance some element of the story in a significant manner.

Significant action can be almost anything. You might introduce a new element (or character) that advances the plot, have your character take an action that the other players can’t ignore, or that sets up something for later. You might simply characterize your character(s), be it by delving into his/her thoughts, or having them take seemingly trivial actions that reveal aspects of the character underneath. You might explore the relationships between the characters, be it between your own characters or with those of another player.

Not

• Post #53: Spotting someone standing around idly, apparently watching the group, he decided to approach him. "Hey man, got a light?"
• Post #54: "That's what they all say, " Ivan said flippantly. "But until your mind can work on a higher level, your gauge of what exactly is rude or acceptable is substandard." He was not intimidated by Arthur despite the glaring height difference and even more glaring physique differences.
• Post #55: Arthur quirked an eyebrow, and when he spoke he sounded oddly sad. "You know what you just said...Ivan, yeah? You said that I'm too dumb for you to care about my standards. But then, you determined my intelligence—fine, my 'level of thinking, '... [[filler and padding]]

A handful of sentences are really bare-bones of roleplaying (the likes of Forum Games); we can be deeper and more fully-fleshed than that.

Longer posts may seem unnecessary, but be assured that they are. Otherwise you’ll have a hard time fulfilling a story without getting bored — instead, you're waiting for the quick satisfaction of a reply.

Advancing the story in a significant manner is no simple task. I'm not splitting hairs when looking at what is or is not significant. If you were able to post something in 5 sentences, chances are it was not significant. You can flesh your post by including something significant.

This way, though it may seem slower to write a post, you will find the story growing and advancing MUCH more faster, and get more interesting also. (And you won't always have to check if you've been ninjaed or not )

/announcement. Pressing the resume button now. Whatever happened to the bus?)

edited 1st Dec '10 9:39:37 PM by QQQQQ

(Oh, I really am sorry about that last post =/ I was kind of stuck on what he'd say, but I didn't want to leave a direct statement hanging)

Arthur scuffed a shoe into a pile of slush. "But hey," he said, "let's not get petty or we'll freeze to death. Being pedantic won't keep your extremities warm."

It wasn't planned—at that point Arthur meant to walk away, recheck the bus schedule or see if the next street over had anywhere he could buy a hat. Instead, he kicked up the small pile of slush that had gathered onto his shoe and snatched it out of the air, clenching the half-frozen slush into a semi-solid mass. A life-long Florida boy, Arthur had never before been within grasp of an actual, honest-to-goodness snowflake before. Snowballs were an abstract concept, snowball fights, even moreso.

A snowball fight would be hell in this kind of wheather, though, and there wasn't enough still-white snow to cobble together a sculpture of a sugar cube, much less enough to fight with. These were all wonderfull reasons to let fallen snow lie, to drop his pitiful slush-ball and be an adult. Arthur thought of them all only after his little creation had landed with a sodden sort of Pfft on the chest of the arrogant, buggy-eyed kid.

edited 1st Dec '10 9:50:29 PM by DaeBrayk

^ (OOC: Ja, is no worries. You're writing a lot better now here. Now I'm off to dreamland, for reals. Yomiko Readman will get back to your messages in the morning — wait for the beep!)

As the cat-eared boy stuttered, his teeth chattering behind his smile, Yomiko mentally scratched her head. "Sara Lisa?" she parroted back. Was that what he said?

No — ask a different question. There was something bigger going on here, she was sure of it. The back of her neck tingled, an uncanny feeling.

How did this costumed boy, not knowing about this very country he's in, dressed up rather poorly for the harsh English winter, come to be here? It perplexed her. (Why's he dressed up like this, like he's going to a costume party?)

More mysterious were the implications of these questions. The boy could be dazed, or worse, drugged. His pupils looked very much black, very dilated. (That could be symptoms of LSD, or ecstasy — Yomiko had read skimming Britannia Medical Encyclopaedia a while back.)

Maybe kidnapped? And he doesn't remember it?

Enough pondering — Yomiko decided to take some action. Nobody should toy around with children like this. Ever. She hastily said, "Listen, I don't think you're well at all. You don't look such to me. Your eyes are diluted, you're confused about where we're at.. I think someone had drugged you."

All the while she was saying this, her eyes were scanning the streets up and down for any sign of the bus. Nothing up and down the road resembled such. This only made Yomiko worry more.

And that guy— that shady guy standing in the shadows, just staring off at them..

"What do you remember?" she asked, a hand on his shoulder. "Tell me, as much as you can, what happened. Oh— wait, before I forget— what's your name?"

edited 2nd Dec '10 4:28:33 PM by QQQQQ

"Huh?" Milo said, very confused. Drugged? His eyes were what?

But oh, wait, it was rude of him not to have introduced himself. He dug his focus crystal out of his shirt and pressed it to his heart in a formal salute. "Trainee Guardsman Milo Weaver, at your service, Miss," he said, a little self-consciously. He tucked the crystal back into his shirt. "There's nothing wrong with my eyes, miss."

Hang on a moment, he thought. Maybe they don't have carls here! "Oh!" he said, realising. So that was why people were staring at his ears. "Miss, have you never met a carl before?"

After all, there were even some people in Ceraliza who never met any, like his friend Allan. He had thought Milo's eyes were weird too. Creepy, he'd said, and Milo, hurt, had wanted to say that it was human eyes that were creepy. But he never had, he'd just mumbled something apologetic.

And this was an entirely different country, probably an entirely different landmass. "I'm not human, you see," he explained to the nice lady with the strange accent. "I'm a carl."

edited 2nd Dec '10 5:00:28 PM by LoniJay

Yomiko glanced at Milo's diamond, as he put it back in his pockets from his goofy pose. The prop bore a rather strange look, an unfamiliar look — Yomiko could not place it exactly. Like it was not of this world.

But stranger than that, was Milo's sudden snapping to military attention in that proud 'salute'. Here, seeing him who had previously looked so unsure seconds ago.

The thought he might be on drugs crawled back, hesitantly, into the imagination. (Yomiko would still consider it though. Probably.)

And strangest of all, was what he said. A 'Carl?'

Huh.

Yomiko put a hand under her chin — looking upon him in a faint new light. "You are.. not o' human?" she half-mumbled, eyes gaped in disbelief. She was split on what to think. Her critical, down-to-earth mind wanted to call him out on his nonsense, for wasting her energies and tell him "Get Real." Then again, it would have said Paper Bending, Psychokinesis and every mission Yomiko'd been on was an elaborately constructed 'magic trick.'

Her imaginative, dreaming side wanted to believe him — that he really was from a different world. And that there was much more in the universe than previously thought. (And that Garden Gnomes weren't secretly evil.)

Finally, she slowly reached her hand — over to the perked ears of Milo's "Cat-Band". Tried pinching them up, half-expecting a shobby headband to come off.

edited 2nd Dec '10 5:34:08 PM by QQQQQ

(OOC - is this post too short?)

Milo's jaw dropped. "Ow!" he said, shocked. "What are you doing?" Was she seriously pulling his ear? Why would someone do that? He batted her hand away, flattening his ears.

The movement dislodged the red scarf from his neck, and the trailing end of it fell in a puddle of grey slush. It was probably much longer than he was tall anyway.

"Oh," Milo said, looking at it. Now look what I've done, he thought, dismayed. "Um, oh, I'm sorry," he said, leaning over to pick it up. The end of it was completely sodden now. He bundled it up and held it out to her. "You should have this back."

edited 2nd Dec '10 6:02:34 PM by LoniJay

Paradox had been walking for some time. How long, they didn't know — a fact they had only just realized. They didn't remember where they were, or how they'd gotten there.

They stopped walking to look around, searching their memory. Somebody knew about them, they had been kidnapped...what had happened after that?

Paradox looked at their own bodies. They were dressed for the winter, more or less — Omar was wearing lighter clothes and was colder than the others. Two of them were dressed in clothes Paradox was sure they hadn't owned. For all the world, they looked like an ordinary, if multi-ethnic, group of teenagers.

And all seven of their bodies were there. That was definitely not the norm. It hadn't happened before the kidnapping — they were pretty sure that before then, none of their bodies had ever been in a room any of the others had ever been in — and after...they couldn't remember. How long ago had their bodies been united?

Paradox couldn't find any clues in their pockets, either, though there were a lot of them to check, more than they could without doing a more thorough search indoors. They looked outward instead, in all directions. How far back would they be able to retrace their steps before the trail was obscured by the snow? And come to think of it, were they even supposed to? Why couldn't they remember? Had the memories been blocked? Who would do that? And how?

Maybe they were here for a reason.

They decided to retrace their steps with Nicolas and started walking again in the direction they had been going with their other bodies. Might as well see where this rabbit hole went.

Paradox huddled Omar and Svetlana together inside the latter's warmer coat. They smirked with their Faguan mouth at the realization that the two bodies would probably look like a couple to an outside observer.

Like the ones in the bus stop they were approaching, Paradox realized. They tensed in wariness and peered with all twelve of the eyes they had there — did that boy have cat ears?

(OOC: ^ Mhm. I like it. And it seems we have a new bizarre guest.. )

"Ooh," Yomiko said, rubbing her surprised thumb and forefinger. It felt like cat ears, and the cat had yeowed and bolted away. (Silly her.) Then realizing what she just did (It might be this fellow's first impression of humans. Did her hair look nice?) "Sorry! Tee-hee-hee. I wanted to check.. erm— please don't take it the wrong way. It's that us people here tend to get skeptical about other intelligent races.. hehe.."

Frowning a bit, Yomiko took her scarf out of Milo's hands. She'd just bought that at the beginning of the month.. but it was nothing a little "absorbency" couldn't fix.

As Yomiko struggled to keep the loose-leaf papers under her arm, she reached into her right breast coat pocket. Pulled out a piece of tissue paper. Took off one of her gloves, and touched the paper to the mucky muck on the scarf.

She focused. The piece of tissue seemed to convulse, as it sucked all the snow out the scarf until the scarf was completely dry. Then Yomiko tossed the dripping tissue out onto the road, and smiled in satisfaction. Good as new.

"There's no need to worry of it," Yomiko told him, tying the dry scarf around her neck. But Milo might still be cold, wouldn't he? "Hmm. I'd hate to leave you cold, Mr Weaver, whether you're human or Carlian. Why don't I give you a keepsake? The first thing you ought to know — London winters bite."

Using her paper-bending, Yomiko fashioned a comfy scarf and a hat out of some the Johnny Gossamer novel. It might still feel like paper, but she'd padded them a couple layers thick — plenty enough to keep warm. "Here you go."

The Scotslady noticed six people join the wait at the bus stop. Come to stand out here as well? she thought. To freeze their butts off while that blasted bus..

"Hey," she said to them, "If you're here for the no. 49 bus, maybe you ought to be lookin' elsewhere. Hasn't shown up for the past—" (glances at watch) "fifteen minutes now. But you're welcome to join our club, if you wish."

edited 2nd Dec '10 8:59:04 PM by QQQQQ

Ivan did not see the snowball coming and Cychon didn't tell him, which meant that... Cychon wanted this to happen. How dare he prevent him from reading the wind. The boy was irritated. This was inexcusable. He would not be mocked, not one of his mind and strength. The tornado around his legs intensified and Ivan glared at Arthur.

He was a snowball fight king among his colleagues. With his powers he was almost never hit and allowed him to hit people en mass. This would be no different. He was too smart to lose and even too much smarter to allow his spirit to teach him a lesson in humility.

He clapped his hands together and as quickly as his mind moved, the air around him blew in and the falling slow whirled around his chubby arms until he had around his arms, a heavy and miniature blizzard, slowly being carved into one large ball. Ivan loved a little game of one-upsmanship, especially when he was obviously going to win.

he raised his hands high and the large orb of approximately a foot and a half in diameter by now, bolstered, by egregious amounts of air. He forced it high up and calculated it to fall right down on Arthur. He wasn't supposed to violate "The rules" and use his powers for something as petty as personal gain like this, but his ego was far stronger than his "morals".

"I am the Wind Wonder! No one has ever beaten me at snowball fights."

edited 2nd Dec '10 7:26:44 PM by ACDrawings

(OOC: Ooh, a snowball fight?)

edited 2nd Dec '10 8:16:19 PM by QQQQQ

Arthur looked from the 'Wind wonder' to the snowball, and just before being buried, he positively grinned.

He stood in the middle of the snow-boulder, heart racing, face split. He had thrown a snowball. He had finally actually thown a snowball and better yet, someone had thrown one back at him.

From an outside perspective, the snow was clinging to Arthur in unnatural ways, holding its form and obscuring him from view in an exhaust-stained shell. From an outside perspective, the dirty snowelt was drying away at an unnatural rate, soaked into some unseen sponge.

From an inside perspective, the snow turned into water and the water turned warm, and Arthur was, quite literally, in his element.

"It's cheating," said Arthur, his voice undistorted, as the final crust of frost melted into his water-cacoon, "but you did it first."

It was slow, a tendril of water creeping out from the bubble and towards Ivan, teasing him. When it touched, a dozen gallons of warm water rushed over the wind-wonder, soaking through his clothes, and in the winter, a dozen gallons of warm water cools very fast.

The excess ran off in a small wave over the sidewalk and over the shoes of passers-by, and Arthur stood still smiling wildly and still completely dry. Having fairly well cleared the area of usable snow and both of them having fairly blatantly cheated, Arthur held out a hand for Ivan to shake.

edited 2nd Dec '10 7:43:43 PM by DaeBrayk

Ivan' eyes widened at the unexpected turn of events. Another metahuman was not unusual, London in particular was full of psychics. But they were so few and far in between this was insane. A superhero being outdone by a civilian? He could feel it stabbing at his every nerve and permeating his every pore, the ice coldness of water in the winter, breaking his concentration. His tornado disappeared and he was no longer floating.

He stumbled to the ground laying on what was now pavement, but he could tell in this temperature the water was already beginning to crystallize in his clothing. He shivered and bundled himself close, tears and snot pouring down his face, a reaction he was ashamed of, but natural for his age. He hated being ten. Especially like this. So cold. So bitter. So humiliated. So angry...

Arthur softned, let his hand fall, and crouched beside the small, strange man on the pavement. "Hey," he said, "It was an excellent fight." and he clapped Ivan on the back with a hand that dragged as much of the moisture as he could back out again, practically good as new.

Arthur stayed on the pavement a few moments longer, unobtrusively trying to disloge an icicle from Ivan's sleeve and rather spectacularily failing to comfort him.

"How old are you, kid?" Arthur asked, realizing that perhaps, in spite of his demeaner, the Wind Wonder was actually as young as he looked.

edited 2nd Dec '10 8:25:59 PM by DaeBrayk

(OOC: Uh, Ivan never dropped his real name, is Arthur a mind reader?)

Ivan got up feeling less cold and he got up, wiping off his face with a handkerchief in his pocket. He wanted to fight back he knew it wouldn't be right. Brad wouldn't do it... He decided he would just be... "friendly"? There was nothing wrong with someone asking his age, a superhero was allowed to reveal their age, right?

"I'm ten, sir. I guess it isn't that obvious, I'm smaller than most children in my age range," Ivan said bitterly. Wrong approach. He couldn't break out of his arrogant manner, and perhaps he should keep it that way for a little while. He couldn't be too friendly. He was a genius, but still ten and natural curiosity and naivete could easily make him do something stupid.

"What do I call you, sir? You aren't a hero and most certainly not a villain or I would've encountered you once before," Wind Wonder said. "So I can only deduce you are a metahuman of a more humble purpose."

(Ah, dangit. -.- thought he had introduced himself in the weird store, but it was only as "simple boy".)

Real slick, Arthur. said Arthur's internal monologue. Go ahead, pick on someone your own size, how about a ten year old.

Arthur shot his monolgue a dirty look and went back to the matter at hand. "I'm Arthur. Which is...I guess what you would call me." he said, and then "Hero mumblemumblemumble but I'm not honestly sure what a metahuman is so who knows." and then, standing up because the pavement was colder than ice, "Let's go fight some crime."

He walked a few paces to get the feeling back in his knees before turning back to wait for the kid hero. He smiled in private self-congratulation as he realized that he had finally landed himself a snotty, obnixious kid sidekick. He smiled all the wider thinking what Garth would say when he heard about it.

OOC: Bugger. Hey guys, I'm sorry, but I've got to drop out. I just don't have any time, and my muse won't cooperate. Have fun, people.

(OOC: "Two people" — is that my character? 'Cause he/she looks more like six.)

(OOC: Hmm.. fixed! And I'm off to bed for the night.)

Wind Wonder felt fine and rejuvenated. He was going to get his strength and confidence back. He smirked and nodded at the man who helped him up.

"Well mot kindly to meet your acquaintance, Mr. Arthur," Ivan said pleasantly. " As you know, I'm Wind Wonder, from Las Vegas. I'm here visiting a friend." Wind Wonder hovered higher so he would beat eye level with Arthur. He eyed the man's features curiously and grinned.

"You're not a fascinating as my other guy, But I think we can have fun," WW said fancifully as he spun around the man. He was feeling spry again, it must've been that youth thing the adults were so jealous of.