| Author | Message | ||
     Jered (Seydmond) Player Username: Seydmond Post Number: 80 Registered: 8-2002 Rating: N/A |
This will be a game type I know has been discussed, but, I don't believe has ever been carried out on the amrn, aside from the rare character played by four or five people... This game will follow the (mis)adventures of detective Dirk Anderson, a sometimes clutzy, sometimes suave character stuck in a lupin/speedracer/gigantor old school poorly animated and barely detailed world. Dirk will have friends. And Dirk will have enemies. This game has only a few basic rules, too keep it fair to everyone: You are Dirk Anderson. Do Not post twice in a row. Let someone else muck up whatever plans you spent all day manuevering towards. If you're going to take the story away from Dirk to focus on other characters, make sure to add a campy 'MEEEEEANWHILE' flag somewhere, and, occasionally throw back to Dirk, it's his show, anyway. You MAY make up new characters at any time, for any reason, with any motivations, goals, hairstyles, etc. You MAY NOT throw a fit if someone does something you don't like.(wait your turn and get Dirk out of there) And finally: You MAY NOT kill Dirk Anderson! Anyone else is fair game. This game is obviously going to be kinda unique in that it isn't a game, no GM. Think of this as a place to unwind and have a laugh while you're waiting to find out if your variable fighter just got hit by 8 or 22 missiles. :) Anyone is welcome to participate, english proficiency is preffered, but, not required. Have fun! Language will be... language. Like all things, be considerate of others feelings, but say what needs to be said. Leave out racism, or any kind of descrimination. (Message edited by seydmond on January 24, 2006) | ||
| Jered (Seydmond) Player Username: Seydmond Post Number: 81 Registered: 8-2002 Rating: N/A |
Paris, France, August 2nd, 1971, Midnight. The Lue... Luv... Lube... That museum place with the pictures. All was quiet. A guard dozed lightly by the front door, his chest barely moving as the cheap animation just used two different cells in slow repeat. A shadow slid across a blue window, past the sleeping guard, then past several other blue squares contrasted by the white walls. A skylight rattled quietly, and a pane from the over-sized roof fixture eased away from its fellows in a disjointed fashion. A shadowy arm lowered a rope through the opening, which came to rest right next to the museum's prize possession, the most famous painting ever painted by a painter, the 'Moaning Lisa'... Morning, Paris, Le Mayor's Office "Sir, le Moaning Lisa, she has been stolen!" cried a man in a suit, the sleeping guard from the night before stood behind him. "Le Moaning Lisa? Are you sure?" The Mayor asked, his words barely escaping his excessively long handle-bar mustache. "Yes, Mayor, I am sure! She is le gone!" The suited man literally wept. "Very well, Mr. Currator, we shall have le authorities sent to the museum at once!" The mayor dismissively waved the two from his office as he dramatically reached for the phone on his desk. Paris, back at the place with the paintings and stuff, around noon. The currator busily scurried around blue uniformed police officers who had seemed to materialize out of thin air. Despite numerous recountings of security measures, and the security guard's testimony being recanted atleast a dozen times, none of the officers were making any progress. A man everyone identified as Inspector finally threw his hands in the air and gave a bellow of despair. "This case, she is too tough for us! There is only one man who can help us now. That one man, he is le Dirk Anderson!" New York, just after lunch(the same time as it is in Paris) A desk cluttered with papers, pens, a lamp, a gun, a half-empty bottle of whiskey, and a phone sat square to the wall, rays of sunlight creaking between the blinds on the window cut hard slices through the dark room, adding an air of mystery to the small office. Without warning, the phone began to ring and shake, thrashing about the desk like a monkey having a seizure. A meaty hand reached out of the darkness and subdued the contraption. Slowly, the hand lifted the receiver clear of the base. A deep exhale spewed a stream of thick cigar smoke into the few rays of light piercing the room. The receiver reluctantly withdrew with the hand into the darkness, where two bloodshot eyes seemed to float. "Yeah?" The voice was deep, like a 250lb man who smoked half a box of cigars and drank at least a bottle of whiskey every day should sound. "Yes, this is Dirk Anderson. The what is missing? Oh... Right, that painting thing by that one guy. Yeah, I'll take the case." No Monkeys were harmed in the writing of this post. The Epilepsy Society of America also wishes us to remind you that if a friend or loved one is having a seizure, roll them onto their side to avoid choking or azphyxiation. Real seizures aren't funny. (Message edited by seydmond on January 24, 2006) |
