As a member of the internet, I enjoy frequenting play-by-post roleplaying games hosted on forums. Theoretically, these games should function as big collaborative stories, although most of the time they devolve into a medium for overweight women to revel in their fantasy lives and imaginary erotic exploits. Nonetheless, I enjoy joining these boards and bringing to them a slice of life.
Take, for example, the campy suphero RPG Gideon City. On this board I play as Fredo Hunt Rhodes, a chronically depressed two-time cancer survivor who fantasizes about suicide while walking the beat as a gas man. Here are a few select posts of mine from the game. Critiques are welcome:
http://second-city.proboards.com/ind...932&post=25946
Gideon City, a beacon of opulence and poverty. A place where angels surf the air and monsters lurk the dregs. Courtesy of his selfish pipe dream, Fredo Hunt Rhodes now finds himself stuck in this town built on frightening contradictions. He fought off cancer twice and scoured the East Coast only to be left here with little money to his name and no chance of ever achieving his life's goal. It's a miserable predicament, but at least there was work to be found here.
Fredo Rhodes:
Gas man!
Fredo shouts his newly acquired catchphrase as he unlocks the back door of the old firehouse. It feels stupid having to announce your presence to a vacant building, but his boss told him he should in case there were any vagrants creeping around here. It also feels stupid having to read the meters of a vacant building in the first place, but that doesn't really bother him because it's the last stop on his route today. He's already feeling a tingle of that minor sense of satisfaction one gets after completing a load of annoying tasks at work. It'll probably be the only type of pleasure he'll experience for the rest of his life, so he's making an an effort to learn how to savor it.
Fredo Rhodes:
Work to live, to die.
Rhodes turns on his flashlight and enters the musky, cobweb-strewn abyss, unaware of the Hell-spawned creature shambling just outside the walls of this abandoned shack.
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Fredo Rhodes:
Gas man!
Fredo shouts his newly acquired catchphrase as he unlocks the back door of the old firehouse. It feels stupid having to announce your presence to a vacant building, but his boss told him he should in case there were any vagrants creeping around here. It also feels stupid having to read the meters of a vacant building in the first place, but that doesn't really bother him because it's the last stop on his route today. He's already feeling a tingle of that minor sense of satisfaction one gets after completing a load of annoying tasks at work. It'll probably be the only type of pleasure he'll experience for the rest of his life, so he's making an an effort to learn how to savor it.
Fredo Rhodes:
Work to live, to die.
Rhodes turns on his flashlight and enters the musky, cobweb-strewn abyss, unaware of the Hell-spawned creature shambling just outside the walls of this abandoned shack.
Gas: 0815
Electric: 89052
Task complete. Rhodes readies himself to go when a powerful urge to urinate strikes him out of the blue. The chemotherapy had left him borderline incontinent, so these unexpected needs to go are not uncommon. Thinking he's still alone, and not wanting to risk soiling himself looking for a bathroom, Rhodes simply unzips his pants and relieves himself right on the dusty concrete. He's seconds into emptying his bowels when he finally notices the massive man with dreadlocks and face paint storming over to him in the vacant firehouse's basement. Rhodes nods to this living monster, attempting to play off the fact that he's urinating all over the floor. He sneaks his hand into his right pocket in order to keep his dog spray handy. Rhodes isn't sure if this man is belligerent or not, but he sure looks more like an enforcer to a bookie than any hobo he's ever seen.
Read more: http://second-city.proboards.com/ind...#ixzz2RWIkcKCg
Electric: 89052
Task complete. Rhodes readies himself to go when a powerful urge to urinate strikes him out of the blue. The chemotherapy had left him borderline incontinent, so these unexpected needs to go are not uncommon. Thinking he's still alone, and not wanting to risk soiling himself looking for a bathroom, Rhodes simply unzips his pants and relieves himself right on the dusty concrete. He's seconds into emptying his bowels when he finally notices the massive man with dreadlocks and face paint storming over to him in the vacant firehouse's basement. Rhodes nods to this living monster, attempting to play off the fact that he's urinating all over the floor. He sneaks his hand into his right pocket in order to keep his dog spray handy. Rhodes isn't sure if this man is belligerent or not, but he sure looks more like an enforcer to a bookie than any hobo he's ever seen.
Read more: http://second-city.proboards.com/ind...#ixzz2RWIkcKCg
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Fredo's fists unclench. Some alcohol would do him pretty good right now. Fredo likes a beer in the afternoon... Actually, he likes a beer period. The big guy doesn't seem to want to mess with him, and as a matter of fact he pegged him right as a low life. It is true that Fredo has thought frequently about blowing a hole in his throat with a shotgun. There's a pawn shop he passes every day on his way to the bus stop that has an old skeet gun on display behind the counter. Pretty affordable. If he wanted to, he could buy that thing and take it with him in a company car to that narrow overpass in Midtown that's always clogged with commuters. Right before rush hour he could park the car sideways there, lock all the doors, and then shoot himself in the head. Traffic would be backed up for miles while the police are doing their thing...
Yeah, so some booze should make those thoughts go away. Fredo heads upstairs and blindly riffles through Zombie's liquor store haul. That dude made a pretty good killing. Fredo briefly ponders what kind of merchandise he could lift if he could get his hands on all those keys on the rack back at his office. They have a key for basically every business in Gideon, after all. Suddenly, it occurs to him that he should probably call his boss on his Nextel to tell him he won't be coming back to punch out today. Something tells him he's going to be hanging out in this firehouse for a while.
Fredo Rhodes:
Hey Hector. I'm just wondering if it would be cool with bookkeeping if I brought my processor back home tomorrow? Why? Well right now I'm planning on partying with this guy named Zombie I met in a vacant firehouse. You know, the one right outside of town. What? No, there's no pussy here. Plenty of booze though... Um, no, it's a little warm. Yeah, ok, you have a good night too.
Fredo turns off his phone and bites the cap off a marshmallow vodka. He shouts for Zombie to order him a baked falafel platter. The pizza places around here are usually owned by Middle Eastern guys.
Read more: http://second-city.proboards.com/ind...#ixzz2RWJ0OREu
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Yeah, so some booze should make those thoughts go away. Fredo heads upstairs and blindly riffles through Zombie's liquor store haul. That dude made a pretty good killing. Fredo briefly ponders what kind of merchandise he could lift if he could get his hands on all those keys on the rack back at his office. They have a key for basically every business in Gideon, after all. Suddenly, it occurs to him that he should probably call his boss on his Nextel to tell him he won't be coming back to punch out today. Something tells him he's going to be hanging out in this firehouse for a while.
Fredo Rhodes:
Hey Hector. I'm just wondering if it would be cool with bookkeeping if I brought my processor back home tomorrow? Why? Well right now I'm planning on partying with this guy named Zombie I met in a vacant firehouse. You know, the one right outside of town. What? No, there's no pussy here. Plenty of booze though... Um, no, it's a little warm. Yeah, ok, you have a good night too.
Fredo turns off his phone and bites the cap off a marshmallow vodka. He shouts for Zombie to order him a baked falafel platter. The pizza places around here are usually owned by Middle Eastern guys.
Read more: http://second-city.proboards.com/ind...#ixzz2RWJ0OREu
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Fredo knew an angel once. At least she was an angel according to his mother. She was an old black woman who lived on the ground floor of their apartment complex when he was kid. His mother called her an angel because she saved a homeless man who had passed out drunk in the alley and nearly choked to death on his own vomit. Other passersby just ignored him, but she stopped and called for people to phone an ambulance. His mother claimed her very presence brought out the good in people.
To be honest, Fredo just thought she was a creepy old cow. She smelled something vile and spoke mostly in garbled non-sequiturs. Maybe that's how angels really are, they use orange-and-blue logic instead of black-and-white. It's a heavy load to ponder. Fredo just shakes his head and ignites his burn barrel while the mother and child scurry away from the winged hybrid. He spontaneously decides to accost them before they can pass.
Fredo Rhodes:
Excuse me, ma'am... Did you know that after John Wayne died, over forty pounds of impacted fecal matter were extracted from his colon?
The mother freezes on the spot for a moment in a state of bewilderment. She pulls her son closer to her body
Read more: http://second-city.proboards.com/ind...#ixzz2RWJJTxPP
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To be honest, Fredo just thought she was a creepy old cow. She smelled something vile and spoke mostly in garbled non-sequiturs. Maybe that's how angels really are, they use orange-and-blue logic instead of black-and-white. It's a heavy load to ponder. Fredo just shakes his head and ignites his burn barrel while the mother and child scurry away from the winged hybrid. He spontaneously decides to accost them before they can pass.
Fredo Rhodes:
Excuse me, ma'am... Did you know that after John Wayne died, over forty pounds of impacted fecal matter were extracted from his colon?
The mother freezes on the spot for a moment in a state of bewilderment. She pulls her son closer to her body
Read more: http://second-city.proboards.com/ind...#ixzz2RWJJTxPP
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What does a monster do?
He's been waiting his whole life. Waiting to break free from the bounds of this wretched society built and ruled by the evil and the stupid. Waiting to escape to an endless abyss where nature would be his only opponent, not the entire world and everyone in it. What a tragic day it was when he realized the notion of ever achieving this dream was a delusion. Escape is impossible. He cannot be an outsider, he cannot just casually choose not to participate in the system. There are only two paths to take: 1) Play the game and be ground to dust. 2) Fight until the bitter end.
The choice was tough, but he's passed the point of no return already. It's either him or them.
[hr][/hr]
Officer Aaron Stevens thought he was handed a real cush job when he was assigned to Gideon Elementary School. There's always a knee-jerk reaction after every mass shooting, with people calling for armed guards in schools, but Stevens' thought process is guided by logic and statistics rather than emotion. He knows that gun violence in this country has actually been going down for a long time, and that these kooks who blow a bunch of people away every now and again are just the exception rather than the rule. Ever since being given this position he's smiled to himself frequently, taking comfort in the knowledge that he has a better chance of coming home to his wife every night now that he's no longer out walking the beat. He surveys the children out at recess with calm eyes and a relaxed disposition, basking in his good fortune.
A fraction of a second later and he bursts into fire... Forever.
A white-masked tatterdemalion, his rags flowing behind him like tendrils, vaults over the playground fence spraying the side of the school with buckshot. For a moment the children stand paralyzed with shock and dread, their hearing likely permanently damaged from the teeth-shattering blasts. It doesn't take long for the screaming to start, however, and what blood-curdling shrieks they are. The masked man imitates their shouts with bitter cruelty, taunting the children as he gives chase to their escape back to the building. Several of the older students instinctively attempt to seek Officer Stevens for protection only to find him quivering on the concrete, his formerly blue uniform now an unsettling shade of purple.
Fredo Rhodes:
The angels can't help you... They've all gone away.
The battle has begun. Fredo calmly reloads, the ball in his opponents' court now.
Read more: http://second-city.proboards.com/ind...#ixzz2RWJr4axI
He's been waiting his whole life. Waiting to break free from the bounds of this wretched society built and ruled by the evil and the stupid. Waiting to escape to an endless abyss where nature would be his only opponent, not the entire world and everyone in it. What a tragic day it was when he realized the notion of ever achieving this dream was a delusion. Escape is impossible. He cannot be an outsider, he cannot just casually choose not to participate in the system. There are only two paths to take: 1) Play the game and be ground to dust. 2) Fight until the bitter end.
The choice was tough, but he's passed the point of no return already. It's either him or them.
[hr][/hr]
Officer Aaron Stevens thought he was handed a real cush job when he was assigned to Gideon Elementary School. There's always a knee-jerk reaction after every mass shooting, with people calling for armed guards in schools, but Stevens' thought process is guided by logic and statistics rather than emotion. He knows that gun violence in this country has actually been going down for a long time, and that these kooks who blow a bunch of people away every now and again are just the exception rather than the rule. Ever since being given this position he's smiled to himself frequently, taking comfort in the knowledge that he has a better chance of coming home to his wife every night now that he's no longer out walking the beat. He surveys the children out at recess with calm eyes and a relaxed disposition, basking in his good fortune.
A fraction of a second later and he bursts into fire... Forever.
A white-masked tatterdemalion, his rags flowing behind him like tendrils, vaults over the playground fence spraying the side of the school with buckshot. For a moment the children stand paralyzed with shock and dread, their hearing likely permanently damaged from the teeth-shattering blasts. It doesn't take long for the screaming to start, however, and what blood-curdling shrieks they are. The masked man imitates their shouts with bitter cruelty, taunting the children as he gives chase to their escape back to the building. Several of the older students instinctively attempt to seek Officer Stevens for protection only to find him quivering on the concrete, his formerly blue uniform now an unsettling shade of purple.
Fredo Rhodes:
The angels can't help you... They've all gone away.
The battle has begun. Fredo calmly reloads, the ball in his opponents' court now.
Read more: http://second-city.proboards.com/ind...#ixzz2RWJr4axI
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