03-26-2016, 09:53 PM
(03-26-2016, 04:55 PM)Lost Rinoah Wrote: //Every single time I've posted something everyone has absolutely ignored it. Just to test it I even made minor catastrophe occur within the previous. And nobody even responded nor reacted. I feel like the invisible man currently, and I'm an ego freak, so that's a bad thing. I'd try taking advantage of it if I wasn't self aware. >.>
"Waaa it died again." No individual has tha' right to say such to be honest. Although I think technically Odin does, that's aside the point. If you don't want friendships to die, you interact with your friend, if you don't want an RPG/RP to die, you write even though you don't want to. Most of the work I've written that I still enjoy has been when I "Couldn't think of what to write." All the rest has been spittle and I've wanted to take it back as it's awful.
Sorry, Get carried away when writing. Hehahahaha.///
Well then, allow us to go into detail, yes?~
Warning: I am about to tear apart your posts and explain why I think they aren't working to start RP, and will probably technically insult your writing style as a result.
Please don't take this as an attack. I want to help you be able to RP.
(12-19-2015, 10:41 PM)Lost Rinoah Wrote: And the wind dropped to a low whine. As a narrowly slitted eye looked careful at the array of cards sat into a pyramid shape. One over the corners of the two cards above it to a set of 28 cards. Another eye opened as the head ferried itself a few inches up, finger tapping chin. 3 and ten to stack. Flip one from deck, another three. He winced. This could be bad. A glint of yellow from a light shone through the window as he blinked, momentarily distracted. But he returned. Flip one from deck. Yes! Ace and queen,, opening another ten to go with the three, opening a king, King to stack, Flip from deck, 4, flip, 8. Nothing. And he finally stopped stretching his back with a soft pop, He should probably give it a rest. 63+ games of pyramid in a row... 63 being what he counted only since he'd started counting.
He wrinkled his face in personal disgust. Well then, yeah, definitely about the time to stop. He turned away from the table and unfinished game and rubbed his forehead. Sudden headache. "Uhhg." A few footsteps, a flop into a chair. The flutter of long clothing, and padding of a body in a plush suede chair. The most pricy bit of furniture in the room, with a ply-wood table, and rough sanded lengths of unvarnished wood for shelving. The window let a new tone out as he heard a 'thump, thump' upon it, and leaned forwards. Yellow eyes scanning the window to see naught but a tree branch broken from it's former position, banging at it. A sigh, and the inward glare of closed eyes. Pallid cloth sat on this form, not quite white, but a somber ember cream robe, overly simple in design to look like it was made while wearing it. Like it didn't come off.
Sitting here playing games felt like such a waste, and yet he thought little upon it most of the time. He sat, unable to remember how long he'd been at it. Days? Weeks? Years? It bled together for him. Red brows creasing in thought. What really DID he remember? A sudden weight in his lap almost startled him as he heard a purr-like sound. Although he reached down and ran a soft skinned hand through the spinous fronds of the grey coat of his little friend. Little more than a physical manipulation of his former cat. "Hello Sandrise." His voice a boring overly neutral drawl, dwelling uncomfortably long on any S to the point they sounded like "thhhh"s. He looked human, maybe a little bit too skinny. Hair medium length, dull brownish red pulled back into a U-loop. Standing at only a shallow 4'8", pale skin not helped by his choice of clothing. His face angular and child-like.
"Yes... What DO I remember..?" He asked her as she continued plying his leg with that simple sound of contentedness. As far as he could think... Nothing.
Shall we begin with your first foray into the RP?
Well, some issues first off. You're writing a book, or at least you seem to think so - every one of your posts has been far longer than is nessessary. Description is nice, but an entire paragraph dedicated to about 5 seconds in a card game is not. Also, your descriptions, while detailed, are vague. "Little more than a physical manipulation of his former cat." What the hell does this even mean? I also reccommend you describe your character the moment they appear, rather than at the end of the post. Throughout all your description of his surroundings, I didn't even know what species he was until you said so in the end, leaving a rather important part of the scene blank.
While I'm not usually one to judge other peoples' work, I notice you are giving a lot of focus to the thoughts of the character, which I find detracts from the experience of RPing. Remember, this isn't a book, we don't want meta-knowledge of what your character is thinking, as he is not the protagonist, just one of many characters. Omniscient narrating is problematic. If someone wants to know what your character is thinking, they should need to be a mind reader or ask. It helps your character feel more complex if you don't know the inner workings of their mind.
Next, there's no way for someone to start interacting with you here. We don't know where this room is. We don't know who this guy is. So unless someone uses an Infinite Improbability Drive and just happens to reassert their reality as being inside your room, you've left yourself with no avenue for people to actually pick this up.
(12-21-2015, 12:19 AM)Lost Rinoah Wrote: After a time, Sandrise bored of his attention, hopping from his lap. And he stood once more, stepping forwards as the air current in the room reversed. It called his attention to the door. Suddenly open as nobody stepped inside. He hurried to it and shut it. He sighed, partially in relief, partially in confusion. Why did the opening of that door leave him so panicked? Why had he felt the need to rush to it and close it so briskly? He knew not, but it comforted him now as he heard the pop of a soft electronic lock. The wooden furnishing only a comfortable ruse on the inside, to an otherwise electronically controlled metal house, single room only. He heard Sandrise hiss loudly, and turned quickly; a form stood there. But too quickly his vision fled from him.
He awoke, fires burned, his chest hurt, like small fires burned within him as he coughed wildly. Each cough made it worse rather than better, and he heard a shallow, panicked, growling meow nearby, looking up, his eyes burned. He could see little in the smoke but began crawling anyways, not for the door, but for the calls of his apparent pet. She cried in pain in a low call, and he pushed the debris from her broken body. A word of comfort escaped his lips as he held her and pushed himself forwards, back for the door. He could feel crushed ribs, his own, and hers. But even that soon faded to numbness. His own mind threatening to fade in the smoke. He thumped one hand against the door, it did not move. Another thump, a bloodied cough. He pulled off a plate of wood covered metal from the wall, his arms going numb with lack of precious gasses for his lungs to take. He put all his strength to his fingers. And just dropped his weight sideways. To make sure he did not hurt Sandrise.
The physical release didn't seem to work at first, his last hope fading instantly with his last sight of his surroundings. And then a loud noise, a slight rush of breathable gasses. It gave him that little drive he needed. An arm and both legs working wildly to force himself out of the room where he lay nearly dying. Five feet out, his vision faded, eyes coated in soot like every other part of his body keeping them pasted shut, he stopped moving. Neither dead nor dying, but in no good condition nonetheless. His robe now blasted black with soot and ash, he lay there moving little other than uneasy breathing.
What. That was almost incomprehensible, sorry to say. The first paragraph made it hard to tell whether you were talking about the man or the cat standing up. I'm still confused about if that's even actually a cat. Then suddenly... What, the room has collapsed? Okay so the maybe-cat is now schrodinger's cat because I can't tell if it's alive or dead. Upon closer inspection, the maybe-cat is, somehow, alive, though the way you describe it, sounds so mangled and broken that simply snapping its neck and ending it would probably be merciful. "Broken body" is usually something used to describe the horribly mutilated dead, so that poor freaking maybe-cat.
So now your character is severely injured. That would be a good time for the guard to intervene, perhaps. If only you had actually said where you were. Oops. Nope, still no idea where you are and no idea how to begin interacting. This is what we call Background RP, where it's relevant, but nobody else can really do anything with it.
(12-27-2015, 04:33 AM)Lost Rinoah Wrote: The smell of foul smoke. A dry soot coated throat. A cough. A cough meant he was still alive. His heart leapt as he wheezed wildly; he felt sick, sick and barely alive. With numbed limbs he grasped at his throat. Water... He needed. He just coughed. Interrupting his own thoughts as a clump of red and black shot from his mouth, impacting the ground as he cleaned his hands the best he could and wiped clumped soot from his eyes as well. Finally he looked up. His small home a burned out husk. Smoke still slowly rising from it's embers within the metal shell. A small mew was let out and he turned to look at the broken body of Sandrise, still alive, but barely, as she lay on her side, blood streaming from the edge of her mouth to the ground.
It hurt, everything hurt, but he needed to help. He couldn't lose anyone. Especially not her; he reached out for her, his hands didn't reach far enough. It forced him to drag himself forwards until finally, with ginger touch, he pulled her into his arms, and cradled her softly. He whispered words of comfort, Words of power as she was fortified from death. He could manage no more right now as he felt her relax only slightly, feeling her body double in weight as the words left on his breath. She was heavy, but he pushed one leg into the ground, pushing up to one knee, then slowly rising. He felt his heart still thumping within him, looking around the trees that surrounded him, his body screamed at him as he pushed himself, one foot at a time, into a walk. A soft "shhh-shh-shh." Hushing his own body as his pain numbed itself.
Once again, you've done a multi-paragraph post describing... Him grabbing the cat and getting up. Yet still, nobody can interact with you.
Surely you see the issue here.
(01-14-2016, 11:19 PM)Lost Rinoah Wrote: It hurt... It was bright, and... And it just hurt, what it was he didn't know, it just, hurt, so much. His lungs gasped, heart beating in his chest rapidly as his throat closed up. His stomach threatened to convulse. He felt the cold tinge of something, somewhere on his arm. His eyes were still clenched shut, though his muscles were slowwwly starting to relax finally. And it was now he noticed the voices. "Stabilized. 60 by 120 is standard for humans right?" "Yes, I think so?" "Not even you know? Did you sleep in while getting your degree o-... He's awake?! How!? Already?!" He opened his eyes and instantly closed them again. "Too, bright." He only said before covering his face with his arm and feling the tenseness of a tube stuck in his arm. Ack... Hospitals. They'd expect him to pay for this. But more importantly, where was Sandrise? "Where is she?" He asked, pulling the IV tape off and pulling it out carefully as he sat up. "You should lay back down, it's not safe for you to be up already." He felt what felt like feathers and fur press against his chest trying to stop him. It lent him to open his eyes, bad idea. "Ahhg!" The white light hurt his eyes still, and he ducked backwards off the other end of the medical bed, causing it to slide a couple inches towards the supposed doctors. His back thumped awkwardly flat on the hard tile floor, though thankfully he kept his head suspended from smashing against it. He gasped as the wind was knocked out of him, taking a breath back in. And he kicked the medical bed, it smashed into the doctors, causing them to stumble and fall onto their hind quarters. One of them quickly shouting. "Security!" as they scrambled to leave the room, rushing out before he could get a good look at them or what they were exactly. He heard a click as the door locked behind them. Shiit.
Same problems. Skip.
Well, except for one more nitpick. It was hard to tell who was talking, since the doctors and your main character... Who... I don't even think we've been given his name at this point? Anyway, they all share the same text color.
Also, long post, no line breaks at all.
Once again, you are not writing a book, so don't feel limited by novel structure.
You can line break wherever you want, so long as it makes sense.
And I would reccommend it, too. Makes things easier to rear.
(01-23-2016, 12:03 AM)Lost Rinoah Wrote: The floor shook with the impact, as the medical bed was forced barely within his strength onto it's side, and he pushed it in front of the door. Hopefully that'd hold em, as he pullws odd the medical gown, showing his robes that sat upon his skin beneath once more, but now bare footed... Oh well. He opened the windows and kicked the screen loose before pulling it into the room. Only now did he look out. Fourth floor only. Not too bad... "Where is she?" Echoed through his head, as it had constantly since hhe awoke. And he slid across a small wind-cutter ledge on the building until he hit the gutter pipe. Thankfully he'd had the foresight to wrap cloth about his hands as he slid down it and ran off rapidly disappearing into the streets. Until he stopped to take a breath in a nearby alleyway. His chest hurt. Bandages sat reddened slightly beneath his robe, reddening the back of his robe slowly. Although it stopped soon after. He just stopped. There was no way he was paying for that. He had no money, he had no accounts, and he had no favors to call upon either. And that was that. As he just sat down... "Where is she?" He asked among the silent side-streets, to no one in particular as he relaxed a bit. Except maybe himself a little bit, in his desperation. She was alive at least, he knew nothing if not that. "Sandrise..."
Skip.
Although hooray, we know now you're on a planet. I would assume Nexus-17. Good.
We now could interact with you, however, we would need a character nearby who would actually stop and randomly chat up a strange bleeding person talking to thin air.
Which is... unlikely.
Also, he's clearly delusional. The maybe-cat was essentially already dead. There's no way it survived, especially if the doctors didn't take it.
Unless maybe-cats happen to have healing factors. I don't know.
(01-27-2016, 05:23 AM)Lost Rinoah Wrote: He may as well look for some information, sitting about in desperate hope would change nothing after all. And his form pushed itself up, rubbing at his right shoulder softly as he set himself walking forwards, out of the alleyway and onto the main streets. Others walked the streets, of races he did not know, and of those he'd seen only in pictures. He refused to stare though, far too occupied on Sandrise to think about such things. Only he didn't know where he was going as a brisk wind threw papers wildly through the streets. It drew him to accidentally step on a few. He gave not a glance to read them. And he stopped upon the hill which he found himself on, a rise within the settlement, looking down over the houses and shops. Leaning against the corner of the nearest building he took a deep breath. Well, as large as it was, there had to be info somewhere... Where to start he still didn't know. Oh well, he'd find her, one way or another. He smiled softly, not a comforting smile, a nervous one, filled with unhalting will. As he trodded on towards the inn in the distance,
Okay. Inn. This is good. Now we're getting somewhere.
You talked with Joey for a while too. Dunno if that was before or after this, but good job. You finally had a situation where people could interact.
(02-14-2016, 01:58 PM)Lost Rinoah Wrote: A period of time just, sitting there in the alley, waiting in relative silence aside standard foot-padding and wind. He nibbled at the piece of bread he'd taken out of boredom rather than actual hunger, half of it gone already. He watched numerous races pass on the street on their ways, including some humans, as well as many other races he knew nothing of... He wondered if they... No, no it was best to stave off those thoughts. He already had something else that needed his attention. He still needed to find Sandrise, or if nothing else, Zeurei. Why had she attacked him so before, only to leave Sandrise alive and well... Was it to taunt him? It was so sudden, almost completely out of character... Her face when he'd turned about in his house to see her had horrified him. And she just left him to die in there it had seemed, yet here he was, still alive. Was it a game to her..? Maybe, she did have the same twisted sense of humor as him. They were twins after all, but she had bluntly stabbed him earlier to get at Sandrise, it wasn't lethal, had she missed everything vital on purpose..? "Bah." He looked up to see someone in the alleyway with him looking down at him just sitting in the alleyway between the inn and some owned store next door. Ahhhk... It seemed to be an officer, and they weren't human.
"Hello? What do you YOU want?" He didn't even attempt to hide his spite and distaste of their wearing such a uniform from his voice.
Zeurei. Well, okay, so now we know the name of the person who attacked him. Of course, none of us need to know that, but hey, we're getting... somewhere?
Sandrise the maybe-cat was not alive and well. Sandrise the maybe-cat was broken and barely alive.
You continue going into the character's thoughts, thereby ruining any suspense you could have built up. We now have meta-knowledge that the person who attacked our proverbial John Doe is his sister and that the maybe-cat is apparently important. You're spoiling your own plot by revealing too much in the beginning, and before anyone has really started interacting with you, either.
And you've left on a cliffhanger of you about to talk to what I assume is another of your NPCs, which means this post essentially ends up Background RP again because nobody would want to intervene then.
And thus concludes Shaadaris Nitpicks Everything.
But wait, there's more!
The reason the RP is dying is because many of the most active "players" aren't around, and others are caught in conversation or other situations with them.
Others, like me, feel like it is kind of stagnant, and as such, don't feel they have much to add. Not just that, but I'm tied up in another RP which, frankly, is far more interesting currently, and I don't want to have to juggle multiple, since that never seems to work out for me.
That, and, as I pay more attention to characterization, I realize I've put myself in the same trap I have with every RP previously - I have too many characters, and most of them don't have enough solid characterization to them, but at the same time I don't want to throw them all out and start again, even though I could.
But above all, the main reason this is failing is because there's no coherent story. Everything is so disjointed that people actually have to force their characters into situations where they would interact. The Serious RP failed because it was too focused on the big story run by one person, and this one is failing because it has too many people trying to do too many different things.
Edit: I didn't even see your latest RP post, but really most of the same points apply. At this point, someone could interact with you, but the RP is so dead currently that I'm not surprised nobody has.