The Death Zone

[swampsail]

more of my own bullshit

For a time it had been a mild form of amusement to watch the two dark figures conspire against the lone one. Their ways were obvious,

Still subtly making fun of you via my narrative. Because I’m a nice person, obviously.

The girl dashed past him, and for a second his eyes were locked on her gleaming hair. A lifetime fell backwards away from him in that one second, and suddenly he recalled words that he had not heard since the moment after his birth. He will face fire. He will face ice. He will face ash.

Ooooh. That’s ruddy mysterious.

[swampsail]

I also hate on myself

Something that might have been a bird lay abandon in the far corner.

Or it might have been…anything else? (I realize I was trying to be vague to increase the “not sure if creepy” factor, but come on.)

He listened to the rain outside, and tried to remember… there was a vauge image just at the edge of his mind…shadows in his home… three faces… He couldn’t remember more. It didn’t bother him much, his dreams always came back to him when they were done roving.

Oh man. You are fucking MYSTICAL AS SHIT.

[swampsail]

HWAT.

Frowning as the she sat huddled by the hearth of the inn, Sil put her hands up to the flames and closed her eyes. She was frozen to the bone, soaked from the heavy storm that was raging outside, and even though her cloak was heavy and dripping, she dared not remove it. The Dark King D’vinn’s spies were everywhere. For all she knew, the very innkeeper sitting at the bar polishing an ale stein could have been possessed by one of his soul-hunters. Tugging her hood further down to hide her face, she was wracked with shivers as she tried to stay warm. Her teeth chattered quietly behind closed lips and she stared hard into the fire,…perhaps…no. Using magic was too risky in a crowd of people like this. As homesick as she was, she would wait until later to catch a glimpse of home. She wasn’t even aware of the two other hooded figures watching her from a dark corner of the room. If she was, she most certainly would have left immediately.

This should never be the intro to a fantasy horror RP.

[swampsail]

Look at this shit. What the fuck is even going on here? Is this supposed to be Alice? Why the fuck is she wearing a skimpy-ass black cocktail dress? What century was this RP even supposed to take place in? And for the record, if you actually planned to put this RP in the RIGHT century, no self-respecting unwed girl of Alice’s age (No, not even if this is set like five years after the books, you twit) would ever wear an exposing black dress like this. First, Alice isn’t a fucking widow. Second, she’s not gonna be traipsing around showing her entire arms like some kind of floozy. 

Oh wait, I guess she IS, sine you were writing her. 

As for your so-called plot. Okay, so Alice has a little sister? Huzzah. Oh, little sister is missing? Well shit, where did she go? Wait, you don’t look for her anywhere else first, because your fucking SPIDEY SENSES are telling you she went to goddamn Wonderland. WELL SHIT, YOU MUST BE THE NEXT CONSULTING DETECTIVE. Could you REALLY not think of a better reason to send Alice back down the rabbit hole? Okay so lalala, off to Wonderland Alice goes. But are we gonna look for that little sister you had? FUCKING NO, BECAUSE SHE APPARENTLY STOPPED EXISTING. Now, god knows why, Alice is wrapped up in some kind of “plot” (and I use the term loosely) which…apparently involves the Red Queen wanting to kidnap Alice and keep her as an heir to the red throne? FUCKING WHAT? I’m sorry but, um… WHAT? Why did you not consult with me before deciding this shit? And why did you decide that MY character is suddenly working for the Red Queen. You can’t just decide that shit. My guy just wants to have some fucking tea FFS, not get constantly molested by your crackwhore ripoff of a Lewis Caroll character, or play footman to some psychotic royalty. Fuck you.

[swampsail]

The next bits were just a big long dream sequence, in which the Dark Lord takes it upon himself to fuck with Sil and Andrew in nightmareland. Aside from another vast collection of ellipses, there’s really nothing worth posting.

Well. Nothing but THIS:

Each tear that fell gave the ground beneath her a breath of life, a flower or a blade of grass would rise from the black ash of the ground, only to go through it’s entire life cycle in the blink of an eye, withering, curling up and crumbling to dust. It was just too much to handle right now.  .

[swampsail]

rock hoodoo

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a small blue stone and squeezed it in her hand, tearing a piece of the rag around her waist and letting the water drippings form the stone soak the rag.

If water’s coming out of it, I don’t think its actually a rock. Also, you’re IN A HOUSE. You really needn’t use your clothing for first-aide, dear. :(

Brushing his hair back off his face she offered a reassuring smile that seemed to ask ‘Are you alright?’ without needing to say the words

Ah shit, she’s touching him again. AND she forgot how to talk. Again.

“…..I……well…kind of…it’s alright, it’s morning anyway…”

SO MANY ELLIPSES HOLY SHIT. ALL THE FLIPPIN TIME.

Turning back to him, she slowly approached him and held out her hand to help him up. “Let’s go hunt for breakfast.”

This isn’t really a bad sentence in itself… But if you think a person needs help standing up, I’m not sure what makes you think they’re gonna feel like going hunting. :| Also…once again, they’re IN. HIS. HOUSE. Where he generally KEEPS FOOD ON HAND. BECAUSE IT’S A HOUSE.

After using one of her gems to craft herself a fine bow, Sil had already used three ethereal arrows to hunt for their food supply.

-

No longer needing the bow, she took another stone from her pouch and held it against the frame. After a silent incantation, it glowed brightly and shifted in size and shape until it became a knife.

I’m sorry, but your rock-hoodoo is confusing, stupid, and full of WTFery.

and without really noticing, humming an old lullabye that she never remembered where she’d heard. 

This is one of those qualifying factors for lost princesses. If you don’t, at some point, hum a mysterious lullaby, you’re obviously not a real princess.

[swampsail]

YOU DON’T!!!

HAVE TO RESPOND!!!

TO EACH INDIVIDUAL SENTENCE!!!

THAT MY CHARACTER SAYS!!!

THAT IS NOT HOW A NORMAL CONVERSATION NATURALLY FLOWS!!!!!!!!

THERE ARE IN FACT SENTENCES THAT DO NOT REQUIRE A VERBAL ACKNOWLEDGEMENT FROM YOUR CHARACTER!@!@#!@$@#!!!$!!!!

STOP TURNING EVERY CONVERSATION INTO A GODDAMN TRAINWRECK OF WORD VOMIT THAT NEITHER OF US CAN FOLLOW

example:

If I: “I’m sorry.. I just don’t like cheese. But I’d love to have some of that wine!”

you don’t need to: “That’s okay! Don’t be sorry! Why don’t you like cheese? What kind of wine would you like?”

a more natural response would be: “Sure! What kind of wine would you like?”

DO YOU SEE? DO YOU UNDERSTAND? MY PAL MY BUDDY MY PERSON?? DOES THIS MAKE SENSE TO YOU PLEASE STOP DOING THE THING BEFORE I TEAR OUT MY FRIGGIN HAIR

[swampsail]

RP woes and the 2-dimensional character disease

Can I just say that I would really, REALLY love to find a group of Sherlock RPers who legitimately WANT a Harry in their group, and who honestly want their characters interacting with her? Someone who will make SOME form of effort to interact with her, instead of her needing to paw relentlessly at their door just to get a nod of the head from anyone?

Is it too much to ask for a group that DOESN’T expect Harry to be/ won’t godmod her into being some kind of tyrannical, emotionally sadistic bitch, and/or a slobby drunkard? 

Look, she’s got little to no canon development, so she’s basically free game for headcanon. I totally understand that. You can have whatever kind of Harry Watson you want, really. That’s why I have so much fun writing her. But when you go advertising for her, when you actively seek out a Harry writer… I wouldn’t have thought it would be so you can blatantly ignore that player’s headcanon, and then leave Harry in the plot-wastes while your characters mindlessly fuck each other.

Just… if you wanted a Harry that went out of her way to be emotionally abusive towards John, or who “delighted in causing her brother torment”, as my group-folk have put it, shouldn’t you have specifically said so to begin with? I mean, instead of taking the character I’m writing for, and forcing her into some preordained mold (possibly to make up for your lack of a Moriarty), then wouldn’t it have been easier to look for that type of Harry to begin with? Or you could have, I don’t know, asked me if I was interested in it. Anything EXCEPT godmod my headcanon into an evil, mutated version of  what I was going for.

What’s really sad is that Evil!Harry could have even been a fun concept! Like if she legitimately was some kind of antagonistic psycho with a penchant for tormenting little brothers, THAT might have been something really interesting to work with. I would have been down for that. It’s not MY headcanon at all, but it could have been something different and fun. But no. This particular brand of Harry didn’t even get to be an active part of the RP/plot/or OOC discussion. Her terrible behavior is just sometimes mentioned offhandedly, as yet another excuse for John to suddenly be sad while Sherlock is mollycoddling him. You never wanted another player in your group. You never wanted any minor characters to interact. What you WANTED was a drunk woman, who only had the dimensionality enough to also be a mean woman, specifically so you could use her as a source of Watson Wangst, so you could use that as a lead-in to some Sherlock Pityfucking.

What the hell was I even THERE for?

I just want a group that actually wants PLOT. CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. I don’t know, maybe some actual fucking cases to solve? Maybe some insight into the way the Watson siblings interact? ANYTHING? Remember the show, guys? Remember how they used to solve crimes, and also acknowledged all the other characters? Remember how their latest mysteries weren’t titled things like, “Sherlock Holmes and the Adventure of How to Unbutton John’s Trousers With One’s Cock”?

[swampsail]

downwind and whispery-like

For now, Sil could only ponder the questions as irredescent eyes stared at the stranger.

Remember that drinking game? Yeah.

Speaking of Vex and his undead lacheys, who other would he watching from the dense underbrush? 

Spelling issues aside, this just reads like one of those really retro superhero comics. Do you write about your mother with that narration?

He was careful to remain downwind, for he knew the princess would easily pick up the stench of death were he not so cautious, and his cover would have been useless. Pulling a small pocket mirror from the pouch at his side, he spoke into it. Of course he would have no reflection, mirrors cannot reflect the dead, but his highness would surely hear the general’s voice. “Sire…..We have found her….shall we bring her to you now?” Keeping his voice next to a whisper as well so they would not hear, he awaited further instruction. Though his impatience was beginning to show.

This whole paragraph is a fucking train wreck. Why did you phrase any of this the way you did? Why do all your characters use so many goddamn ellipses? I want to rewrite this, but it’s flippin 2:am and I just can’t give enough of a rat’s ass.

I just don’t understand how someone can make an entire paragraph so awkward to read.

[swampsail]

you mean *ground

I wrote:

From across the clearing a massive black rook dove from its perch and swooped down over the two companions. Andrew raised his hands to it, and it pecked his fingers as it flew past. It circled once, dove again, and this time dashed itself head-first into the ground between the two. Its wings twitched for a moment after, but it was already dead. Andrew looked mortified, his voice just a whisper. “…What?”

And she replied with:

“…..What is it?” Perplexed by it all, she felt a little sorry for the bird, but continued to work until the flour was grinded. Scooping it all into a smaller leather pouch, she sealed it and tucked it into her belt, wrapping the boar’s bacon in a cloth.“

ლ(ಠ_ಠლ)

[swampsail]

Awkward doesn't even begin to describe it, kiddo

Blushing slightly, she took the bag of feathers from the ground and handed them over to him as she took the nest in exchange. “…I thought you could use the feathers…..so…here.” Wow that was awkward.

So was that last sentence.

Turning from him quickly, as those disguised elven ears picked up on a quiet swish, she looked around nervously. 

I feel I should explain something here:  Siluwyene is a princess who doesn’t know she’s a princess. She’s also the very last Elf in the realm, and doesn’t know that either. Her elven features are hidden by a pair of charmed earrings, which she apparently NEVER TAKES OFF. Keep in mind, folks, that she’s been raised thinking she’s a human farm peasant. For this to be true/successful, she’d have to have been wearing those earrings since infancy. And would have never, - not even once-, ever taken them off. Ever.

That aside, we don’t really need to know her ears are elven, yet. No, not even in the narrative. It’s useless to type that, because it has absolutely nothing to do with anything. She’s not discovering what she really is, and neither is anyone else. This sentence points out her elvenness to literally NO ONE.

[swampsail]

...

“….I do a little of everything….but mostly I do gem and crystal magic…..it’s the quickest, and easiest……I’m still working at conjuring….it’s one of the hardest of the arcana to work with….too much can go wrong…”

There’s no much going on in this segment. They’re eating food and discussing magcial hoodoo abilities. 

I just…really needed to convey….just how many…fucking ellipses…there really…are…

“…..W-well….you’re good at what you do…”

-

“…They crack…and turn to dust when they’re used up….That quartz only has about two more spells left in it…..then I’ll have to find or buy another…”

-

“Don’t be silly. I’d have used it if you had even a papercut…”

-

“It’s the least I can do…..to pay you back for what you’ve done for me….”

See what I mean?

Hugging her knees to her chest, she stared at him only her eyes visible now from behind the wall of her kneecaps,

There’s that wall made of body parts again. 8<

. “….Besides, it’s just a quartz…..they’re not rare at all, it shouldn’t be too hard to find another…”

-

“….That would….be nice..thank you.”

-

“…Goodnight…Andrew…”

[swampsail]

INCOMING ANIMU

Being noticed, she quickly ducked back out of the kitchen. Timid little thing, was she not? But ever so slightly, began to peek back in until she stood half in the door, half out. Taking the plate of eggs graciously, she took a nibble and savored the taste a moment, reminded greatly of her Papa’s cooking after only the first bite. Though when he asked her for her name, she looked up at him, still unsure. Though eventually she spoke back to him, also needing a few breaks to find her voice. “….I…….M-my name is Siluwyene.”

She wasn’t the typical spoiled rotten little princess.

It’s weird that you would point this out here, because according to you, your character doesn’t even know she’s a princess. She wasn’t even raised as a princess. She was raised by farmers.Also, my character doesn’t know yours is a princess, so he’s not going to be comparing her to one. (He also doesn’t know any other princesses, so he’d have no basis for comparison anyway.) So really, there was absolutely zero reason to use this sentence, except to pat your own back for making Siluwyene…not spoiled. Bravo.

Tilting her head to the side as he poured them both out some soup, she averted her gaze.

A-Ara~

It must have made him uncomfortable to be constantly watched, she and felt quite rude to keep staring. “…..Thank you, Andrew….f-for the food….and shelter…….I….I’m sorry if….if I caused you any trouble…”

…I… think you need more… ellipses…

[swampsail]

I shall offer you my most prized Cute Sniffs. But only a few.

Though she did blush herself slightly as he passed her on the way to the pantry and buried her face into the pillow with a suppressed giggle

You… you just nearly got killed by FIVE different baddies, and now you’re in a guy’s house which is filled with dead animals. I know. I’m overwhelmed with girlish-emotions as well~ TEE HEE.

Sil waited patiently, gazing about in mild curiousity.

I too am mildly curious about this HOUSE OF CARNAGE.

Clutching one of the pillows tightly, she turned to look at him just as he discarded the linen and was bapped square in the face with it. Though she couldn’t blame him, she had turned into it of her own accord.

Bapped in the face TEE HEE~! (And since I didn’t write that I was specifically aiming for her face, I don’t really need to be reassured that it wasn’t Andrew’s fault. But yeah, thanks for reiterating that point.)

Sil stood and followed after him towards the kitchen, peeking her head inside nose-first, offering a few cute sniffs to the air 

Here, have these few cute sniffs I found.

before blinking and trying to steal a glance.

NE, SHITTERU? KAWAII SHOUJO DESU BLINKU DESU DESU YO NYA~

[swampsail]

Blinking and raising her head from his shoulder, Sil stared at the rotting wooden cabin and raised a brow.

She does a lot of blinking. All I think of is this:

EVERY. TIME.

Sure, it may not be much, but at least it was shelter. Somewhere to warm up, and hide for now. She would be grateful for anything.

Or, you know. She could be grateful for the shit he’s ALREADY DONE, and stop harshin’ on his cabin.

Dead birds she could stand. It was dead people that unnerved her. Sil had witnessed one too many a person fall to D'vinn’s hand, and repressed memories were the worst kind. They lingered on in a mind reluctant to relive them, recycling a mental anguish that refused to simply ‘go away’.

And this is where she tries to convince us that her character is deeply traumatized by..SOMETHING. We don’t know what it is, but apparently it was mentally scarring. This girl is just so DEEP.

she peeled off that heavy drenched robe and set it aside, leaning up to give a small kiss of appreciation to his cheek before curling up on one of the cushions.

Bow-chica-wow-WAIT. Will you PLEASE stop cramming your character into his personal space?

Strangely enough, this place reminded her of her own home. Sitting around the hearth while Papa played the lute and Mama read stories, listening intently on those overlarge pillows until she couldn’t hold her bitty eyes open anymore and she was carried off to bed half asleep. Nuzzling against one of the cushions, she closed her eyes, reveling in the happy memories at least

Awww, happy memories~

For the record, his house is filled with dead birds and animal skulls.

Andrew hadn’t seemed to notice the kiss…Or rather, he did, but his face always seemed so deadpan despite most events around him.

This is me trying really hard to downplay all of the kawaii desu wuv Sil keeps oozing all over Andrew. (It didn’t work)

[swampsail]

The Story So Far

So I’ve been skimping out on sharing some preeeeetty big sections of this RP, because I’m basically just sifting out the real gems. 

But the further along I read, the worse this RP seems to get. Instead of just a few pieces of complete shit, I feel like the story has just become one massive rain of diarrhea.

So, I’m going to do a quick sum-up of all the things that have happened so far. 

Keep reading

[swampsail]

You could crush him beneath your foot, or he could crumble the foundations of everything you’ve built over the years. But your fates are not determined by either you or he…but by she.“ There she went, speaking in rhyme and riddle.

I don’t see how this is any kind of riddle. She controls our fate, right?  Thaaaat seems pretty straightforward to me.

Clinging to his arm tightly, perhaps for reassurance, Sil leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. It was strange to see her so trusting…she was never even this open to her adoptive family back in her home village. 

I understand that my guy just saved your character from some scary baddies, but PLEASE GET OFF HIM. He has in no way implied that he wants you hanging on him, and your character really has no reason to be smearing her kawaii all over his arms. Rescue =/= Romance.