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Discussion in 'Role Playing Resource' started by Sinrebirth, May 18, 2008.
Some nice, more intimate work, Ramza; and I liked the freedom offered by the Fourth Wall breach.
OOC: Inspirations are Imperial Hammer?s rendition of my third home, the RPF City; and The Spy Who Loved Me, and the traffic warden exchange is not mine either.
Tales from the RPF City - Lightsabre Tournament II ? Part One
Location: Outskirts of RPF City. New Developments
At the centre of the city, tall skyscrapers formed round City Hall to represent long-standing and successful projects, and the city was constantly expanding, with new developments springing up every day on the outskirts, encroaching more and more into the Green Belt.
The Wood Animals, led by Squirrel agitators, were known to be mightily displeased at the shrinking of their feeding grounds.
Not giving a jot for their concerns, gamer, Sith-I-5 sat in the temporary porta-cabin stroke sales office, situated on the taped off acre of gravel set aside for the Machine Wars - (Star Wars/Terminator Crossover) project, a prospectus in his hand, tap-tapping on his knee whilst the veteran Games Master, Dubya Scott laid out the aims of his project, whilst playing with some sort of hard plastic object that was apparently a hockey puck. Behind him on the wall, was a poster showing a fifty-foot high mechanical standing over the sand-blasted dome of a Tatooine homestead.
Sith-I-5 leaned forwards and turned round a portrait photograph that was sitting within arms reach on the almost bare desk. It showed a person in a red numbered jersey that was distended with overlapping plates of body armour, while a grilled red helmet concealed the face.
?That,? Scott revealed proudly, interrupting his own spiel, ?is the Clone Wars director; I play hockey with him, you know??
?Do you really?? The player echoed. He had no particular interest in the project, yet; but was here as he always made money when he invested with Scott. He recognised a good deal when he saw it. ?Look, I gotta run.? He put the photo back on the table. ?I am representing the RPF in a cross-forum tournament, and I don?t want to be late.?
Sithy stood up, miming the presence of a mobile phone under his right ear. ?I will have my people call your people; we?ll set something up, huh??
?Okay, I?ll show you out. You can meet the other investors.? Dubya moved to the door, opening it for Sithy to exit first. ?So how is Agent Nifesta? He was always a fun presence on my old projects.?
Sith-I-5 smiled at the mention of his favourite employee. ?Oh, he?s running security for me. He used to be a spook, did you know that??
?What, like Caspar??
?Nooo.? Sithy looked at his old GM to see if he was joking. ?Like...well not James Bond. Like Maxwell Smart with access to heavy weapons.?
Their laughter preceeded them into the spartan waiting area, where two be-suited individuals, stood up at their approach.
?Twinkie Stryder and Kahn-Iceay.? The project manager introduced, ?Sith-I-5.?
The veteran of for Star Wars...007 Series projects, shook hands with each. One wore a clone-trooper?s helmet. He knew their names, but not to speak to; not that unusual in a city this vast.
?Sorry, Guys.? Sithy apologised, acutely conscious of time passing. ?I would love to stay and chat, swap pictures of our kids. I got an 8 by 10 glossy of a 12-year old twi?lek padawan who?s as cute as a button.? Cute as a button? Hands up anyone who has seen a cute button! ?I?m due at the Sinre Centre, like yesterday. But it is great to put names to faces, or in your case, a helmet.?
By this point, he had reached the glistening white Ferarri Testarossa parked outside the sales office.
Jumping in and turning the key in the ignition to turn the engine over, he noticed a traffic warden standing on the curb (sidewalk to some), writing a ticket on a little pad of flimsis and blue copy sheets that had seen better days.
Taking a closer look, he recognised the uniformed jobs-worth. ?It?s alright, I?m going now, Light?.?
Lightwarden looked at him over the pad. ?It
I-5, you have the interesting honor of being the first person i remember to get the first part of my username right, and the last part wrong. Most don't even bother with Iceay, not many Kahn's apparently.
I liked it, but you should have reserved me to be the hitman.
Sorry about the typo. Will amend.
I haven't written the hit-person parts yet, but have players already reserved. If I get asked to change any, I will put you in instead, if you want.
And thank you for the feedback.
I can't believe I've never seen this or visited this thread before!
Loved the braveheart-like one for sure, spent most of it holding my aching ribs.
Great stuff, I-5. An assassination plot, eh? I must say I'm intrigued.
Part 2 is with Hammer for clearance; Part 3 (the part that probably will need clearance) is in the works.
Tales of RPF City ? Lightsabre Tournament II - Part Two
Turning the wheel to the right, the CEO of the I-5 Joke Works steered off the dual carriage-way into the built-up streets of Downtown, slowing to negotiate the heavier traffic.
?Well, that is just wonderful." He said, addressing his star employee and Force Vampire, Agent Mitch Nifesta, over the dashboard comlink. "I?m just about to pick pash up at GAW Towers, too.?
?If she?s looking for Anakin, tell her I?m sitting on his head.?
Sithy smiled despite the bad news. ?Aw, that?s great the way you two have bonded, since Hammer?s Christmas Ball.? Turning into the thoroughfare serving his destination, and ultimately going on to City Hall, he decelerated and braked hard in front of the calcified-looking, white marble steps leading up into the GAW lobby.
His business partner on the GAW Project, pashatemur, was standing on the steps in a corsetted, flowing white dress, with a white laptop clutched to her front, hair and crinolene billowing to her right in the wind tunnel that the tall buildings had created.
He rolled down the window on her side and leaned out. ?Hey, Pash, you may want to get alternate transport! Mitch just told me that E.U.C. have taken out a contract to stop me competing.?
?Are you still going??
??Course! I have to; Hammer and Saintheart picked me from a cast of thousands. Well, eight. Plus, master-of-les-pauls is doing the musical arrangement for Yavinelf.? The musical role-player was Pash?s deputy on the GAW project, while Yav? was the character chosen to fight in the first round on behalf of the RPF.
The GM brightened on hearing MOLP?s name. ?Then I?m going with you. Shove over.?
Sith shifted back to the left of the driving seat while she strapped in to his right, and opened the portable computer on her lap.
?Remember to drive carefully; I don?t want jogging.?
Sithy put his hand over the back of her chair to aid in his reversing, ?Yeah, that?s gonna be my highest priority.? The view swept past the windows as the sports car skidded round in a reverse one-eighty. ?Here we go!?
* * * *
The sports car burned out of the city centre, heading towards the route that would run parallel to the Aqua Line, and take them out to the Sinre Center.
Both execs leaned forwards in the seat restraints as Sithy stood on the brakes, the screeching car?s nose dipping towards the tarmac as it slowed to a halt by the orange and white striped A-boards stretched across the highway entrance, a yellow and black Diversion arrow pointing away to the less used JC network of roads.
Sith-I-5 regarded the obstruction. ?Well, that is relatively unusual. When was the last time you saw roadworks in RPF City??
?How about never??
?We can do this.? Sith-I-5 decided aloud. ?Plus I?ve been playing Driver again on the Playstation, re-learning the old skillz, and I can almost make it three or four city blocks now, before I wrap it round a lamppost.?
?I am still waiting for the part where you try to reassure me.?
The Testarossa engine roared into dynamic life, Sithy reversed, spinning the steering wheel to the left, then nosed the vehicle forwards and to the right to follow the instructions of the diversion sign, heading into JC territory.
At first the journey was pleasant enough, running along the less well maintained elevated roadway, sides protected by guardrails, dropping away to either countryside or waterways, or lesser TFN communities.
Sith ducked involuntarily as something crunched onto the road behind them.
?We picked up a tail.? Pashatemur announced ominously, not looking up from the screen of her laptop.
?How can you tell?!?
"GM perks. It?s Mort."
Sith raised surprised eyebrows at the name. He
Tales of the RPF City ? Part Three
Glancing up into the rear-view, he could see the wheel-bike really leaning down to the tarmac as it sought to keep up and get a clear shot at them, while the rider?s cape fluttered Batman-like behind him. That guy clearly hadn?t gotten over the mirror thing, he guessed.
?The laptop. Does it have a dvd player??
?Alright,? Sithy took one hand off the wheel to lean between her knees and the dashboard to drop open the glove compartment. ?In there, dvd for Bad Boys 2. Save your post, play the disc, fast forward to where the bangers are chasing the DEA girls? SUV, to see how Will Smith does that sideways skid thing to deal with them.?
He hoped he hadn?t lost her with the mad ramble, as another laser punctured their rear, and he could even smell smoke now.
?Accelerate, turn wheel to the left, so the rear starts to kick out to the right, making you side-on to the pursuer, turn into the skid whilst shooting a slug-blaser out the window at the enemy.?
Sithy stared at her in awe. ?I love you sometimes, Pash?. And not only because you're glowing like something out of a Ready Brek advert.?
?I know. Wait a second, only sometimes??
?Alright then, all the time.?
?Better. So, can you do that maneuver??
?Way I drive? Sure. Deliberately?? He could only shrug, then concentrate on keeping them alive again, as they took another hot. He was surprised the car was holding up as well as it was. ?All I can do is be ready.? His free hand took the wheel again, releasing the other to probe under his seat, and come up with the required slug-blaser; essentially a slug-thrower on Glitterstim. A Trandoshan ACP-Repeater. Notoriously inaccurate, but it would have to do.
Sithy shot his passenger a glance. Uh-oh? He echoed silently. ?We are already being shot at! What ?uh-oh???
?We got trouble.?
?Apart from Grevious?!?
Pashatemur nodded out the windshield. With only a couple of insects spatted against it, it was faring better that it?s counterpart at the rear. ?We got a Mod coming up.?
?Mortimer Nerdly wouldn?t shoot a Moderator, would he? C?Boath on a bike, that would cause an inter-forum incident!?
Sithy momentarily saw blue sky over the Testarossa?s bonnet as it went over a small rise, before nosing down onto the roadway again, and he immediately saw three things: an off-ramp coming up on the left, leading down to the Knights of the Old Republic III residential project, and two Harley-Davidsons riding sedately along, side by side, the one on the right wearing billowing Moderator silks in purple and black.
?Hey, I know that guy. CrazyMike. Which makes that AmberStarBright with him.?
He had met both back in the Real World quite recently, during their holiday. Sithy was not wholly sure where Amber? fitted into the extended Moons of Yavin family that he maintained back in RL, but he had certainly known her, or at least, of her before she had hooked up with Mike.
He had not known until the meet-up, that they were fellow citizens of the JC world, with Mike a law-maker over at one of the other TFN communities.
Either way, he could not lead the psychotic ex-player up to them.
I-5 slowed to give the two riders time to pass the off-ramp, and endured the fusillade until they were clear, then stood on the accelerator to pour on the speed, braked just short of the exit, and fishtailed the Ferarri into it, driving down it at speed, the wheelbike, partially obscured by smoke billowing from the ruined boot, leaning in to pursue them, lasers whanging round the crazily evading car.
Sithy was sure it must look like a zebra now, black scorch marks adde
It is a new age.
And since Hammer was the one who first did one of these things, it's only appropriate that we usher in that new age with more RPF Amateur Dramatic Theatre.
Xan: Now don't take this the wrong way, but you are a moderator, right?
Penguinator: Yes. Penguindyne Systems, Model 176.
Xan: [Pokes at one of Penguinator's bullet wounds.] Holy ****! You're really real! I mean, you're like a machine underneath, right? But sort of alive outside?
Penguinator: I'm a admininetic organism. Living tissue over a VIP endoskeleton.
Xan: This is intense. Get a grip, Xan. OK, uhm, you're not here to ban me. I figured that part out for myself. So what's the deal?
Penguinator: My mission is to protect you.
Xan: Yeah? Who sent you?
Penguinator: You did. Thirty-five years from now, you re-programmed me to be your protector here, in this time.
Xan: Oh, this is deep...
[Cuts to them riding a motorcycle at night]
Xan: So this other guy? He's a moderator like you, right?
Penguinator: Not like me. A Mod-1000. Advanced prototype.
Xan: You mean more advanced than you are?
Penguinator: Yes. A mimetic polyposter.
Xan: What the hell does that mean?
Penguinator: Liquid metal.
Xan: Now, you gotta promise me you're not gonna ban anyone, right?
Xan: Just put up your hand and say, 'I swear I will not ban anyone.'
Penguinator: [Raises hand] I swear I will not ban anyone. [stands up and edits a user in both knees] He'll live.
Penguinator: The man most directly responsible is Sinrebirth. In a few months, he will create a revolutionary type of RPG.
Ktala: Go on. Then what?
Penguinator: In three years, the RPF will become the largest supplier of military RPG games. All RPG threads are upgraded with RPF character sheets, becoming fully unmanned. Afterwards, they fly with a perfect posting record. The ModSquad Funding Bill is passed. The system goes online on August 4th, 2011. Moderator decisions are removed from strategic defense. ModSquad begins to learn at a geometric rate. It becomes self-aware 2:14 AM, Eastern time, August 29th. In a panic, they try to pull the plug.
Ktala: The Mod Squad fights back.
Penguinator: Yes. It launches its missiles against their targets in Fanfic.
Xan: Why attack the Fanfic? Aren't they our friends now?
Penguinator: Because the Mod Squad knows that the Fanfic counterattack will eliminate its enemies over here in the RPF.
I doom the TF.N!
For some reason I love that concept.
Great stuff, Saint. More of this sort of thing, I say!
I already LOL'ed at me being John Connor, but that is even better. I love Penguindyne Systems.
This thread is made of WIN
*pulls back rifle bolt*
We'll see about that...
gotta say that was lol to read.
"Living tissue over a VIP endoskeleton." is the best line!
Scenes from Penguinator's induction:
Xan: Jesus! You were gonna ban that guy!
Penguinator: Of course. I'm a moderator.
Xan: You just can't go around banning people!
Xan: What do you mean, why? Cause you can't!
Xan: Because you just can't, okay? Trust me on this.
Xan: No, no, no, no. You gotta listen to the way users talk. You don't say "T.O.S" or some **** like that. You say "no problemo." And if someone comes on to you with an attitude you say "PM me." And if you want to shine them on it's "hasta la vista, noobie."
Penguinator: Hasta la vista ... noobie.
Xan: Yeah but later, spambot. And if someone gets upset you say, "Chill out"! Or you can do combinations.
Penguinator: Chill out ... spambot.
Xan: Great! See, you're getting it!
Penguinator: No problemo.
*wipes tear from eye*
Scenes from Penguinator's first day on the job
(With apologies to Mel Gibson, Danny Glover, et. al.)
Imperial Hammer: All right, I got something special for you mods. A guy by the name of Jedi, Winged_Jedi has been placed in protective custody. And you two guys are gonna babysit him until Mod Squad sends out the admins.
Penguinator: How long?
Imperial Hammer: Soon as all the red tape is processed. Couple, three days. This guy Jedi is gonna testify before a commission of inquiry. Drugs, laundered money, et cetera, et cetera. (Beat) This is not a **** assignment.
[Penguinator starts smoking]
Penguinator: Yes, it is.
Imperial Hammer: No, it isn?t.
Xan: (coughing from cigarette smoke) It is.
Imperial Hammer: It isn?t.
Xan: Captain, it?s a **** assignment.
Imperial Hammer: Shut up, the both of ya.
[Another mod comes in and hands the Captain a file.]
Imperial Hammer: I guaranteed this guy?s safety.
Xan: Why us?
Imperial Hammer: Because you two are the most qualified for the job. And, after last night, you could use the break.
Xan: I can handle last night.
Penguinator: What are we supposed to do with him?
Imperial Hammer:How the hell should I know? Take him to Theomachy.
Penguinator: Oh, this stinks. This stinks. This stinks!
Imperial Hammer: I don?t give a fig, Penguinator. That?s why I don?t have an ulcer, because I know when to say, "I don?t give a fig." Now here?s where he?s staying. It?s a nice thread; all the expenses are being picked up by the RPF, so enjoy yourselves. [They start to leave] And Penguinator, one more thing!
Penguinator: [Turning back] What?
Imperial Hammer:[Tosses him a small 'no smoking' sign.] You know what that says?
Penguinator: Yeah, yeah, same thing as that. [Points to the large 'no smoking' sign next to him on the door, smirking.] But I don?t give a fig. [Throws the small placard back and walks out.]
Xan: You?re lucky. I have to live with that.
My unproductivity continues.
Armageddon, or, TFN saves the world from a spamvertiser the size of Texas. Again.
Lightside_Apprentice: [voiceover] This is the RPF, at a time when the oldbies roamed a lush and fertile planet.
[From behind the camera, a giant asteroid appears, speeding towards the Earth ahead of it]
Lightside_Apprentice: A spambot just 6 posts wide changed all that.
[Blazing through the atmosphere, the spamvertiser impacts with a spectacular display of fire and destruction]
Lightside_Apprentice: It hit with the force of 10,000 nuclear weapons. A trillion tons of dirt and rock hurtled into the threadspace, creating a suffocating blanket of trolls the sun was powerless to penetrate for a thousand years.
It happened before.
It will happen again.
It's just a question of when.
Saintheart: This is the drill we're planning to use. You, uh, might recognise the RPG...
Imperial Hammer: Well, I guess I should recognise it. It's my design. What, did you guys just steal a key to the copypaste office?
Imperial Hammer: Let me get this straight. You pulled me off a rig, flew me halfway around the world because you stole my Market Metaphor, couldn't read the plans right, and did a ****-poor job of putting it together?
LordTroepfchen: Well, technically patents don't apply to the NSWRPF, so--
Saintheart: Shut up, Lord T. This RPG isn't going to Mars anymore. It's going to try and save this forum. And we need to figure out what's wrong with it pretty quick. You said we did a bad job putting it together?
Imperial Hammer: No, I said you did a ****-poor job of putting it together. First of all, you got the flow system all reversed. Let me guess. You're tearing up CSes and you can't figure out why.
LordTroepfchen: Well, yeah, that's--
Imperial Hammer: Well, that's because you got your cams all wrong, Mr Wizard. Who's been operating this thing?
Saintheart: Right there (points at a stoic band of eight moderators)
Saintheart: Well, Mr Hammer, what do you think?
Imperial Hammer: You know, GMing's a science. It's an art. I'm a third-generation GM. Been doing it all my life. And I still haven't got it all figured out. Mr Saint, I'm assuming you got me in here because someone told you I was the best. Well, I'm only the best because I work with the best. You don't trust the people you're playing with, you're as good as banned. Now, those boys over there -- I'm sure they'll make great administrators. But they don't know jack about posting ... what's your contingency plan?
Saintheart: Contingency plan?
Imperial Hammer: Your backup plan. You gotta have some kind of backup plan, right?
Saintheart: No, we don't have a back up plan, this is, uh...
Imperial Hammer: And this is the best that you-that the admins, the TFN admins, could come up with? I mean, you're Mod Squad for crying out loud, you put an Old Republic forum on the boards, you're geniuses! You're the guys that're thinking **** up! I'm sure you got a team of VIPs sitting around somewhere right now just thinking **** up and somebody backing them up! You're telling me you don't have a backup plan, that these eight Boy Scouts right here [gestures to mods], that is the world's hope, that's what you're telling me?
Imperial Hammer: Oh, God! Dammit!
Saintheart: Look, we're a little short on time. Will you help us?
Imperial Hammer: ... All they gotta do is post?
Saintheart: That's it.
Imperial Hammer: No social threads, no crazy astronaut stuff?
Saintheart: Just post.
Imperial Hammer: ... If I do this I'm gonna want to bring my own men.
Saintheart: You got it.
(Xan looks at Hammer with a horrified expression.)
Imperial Hammer: ... I just don't trust anybody else to do the job, that's all.
I don't know whether to laugh or cry...Damn it, Bruce Willis!
The best part out of that whole thing I think Good job there Saint; something nice and humorous for me to wake up and see in the morning