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Hi everyone!
I was reading your posts at 'books you've read' and i've thought of a thread..
It consists on writing an invented story (you know the game? one starts and the others go on writing, inventing their part of the story..)
What do you think about it? :confused:
We could choose between three or four 'fragments' to decide how the majority wants the story to go on.. too much complicated?.. :confused:
Well, if you like the thread, maybe you want to improve the rules :)
Hey Jess, we got a game like this going before, it was ok for a while but then we experienced some ... differences and as differences go, it kinda ruined the game. I think it's a great idea but if this is going to work we'd need everyone participating to have same ideas (as in agree with the rest of the members, uck, not good explaining) and I don't think it's possible. And I also think it might be better moving this to the general chat forum if we have a go? Also, you might consider starting the game, you'd get more people continuing if they have something to build on. Actually I hope this idea will work this time around. Kinda haiku thread in prose. Would suggest not to write the story by sentences but by paragraphs maybe? Writing it in sentences would be a bit chaotic as the one to continue could misunderstand and write off topic. Not saying it couldn't take the same turn when writing in paragraphs... ok, organizing a group of people might not be my strongest trait as I tend to get too many ideas at once. Anyone else wanna try?
hm.. ok, it does't matter :), it was only an idea
Thank you for the advice, i will try to think of another thread, a better one :)
Good night!!
Allow me to introduce Albert JK Trousse, a famous ukelele player and courtisan. He travels round the world playing his instrument but has the misfurtune of never catching the eye of the women who he so desperatly falls in love with. His condition of forlorn lover lends his musical prowess an emotional backdrop which has launched his carrier into eternity and the laps of royalty. Uneffected by his sudden musical popularity he has decided to take a vacation...
...on a private yacht, vowing to visit all four oceans and the seven seas before he sets foot on land again. As the vessel makes its way through the treacherous waters around Cape Horn, Albert examines his ukulele in despair, wondering whether he should toss it overboard and give up forever the one thing that makes life bearable to him. Absentmindedly strumming the strings, he suddenly hears an eerie, unearthly music accompanying the disjointed notes. It seems to come from all around him. Looking about in wonder, he casts his eye on the water below and sees...
nothing. the water seems to have become darker and more, does he admit it? more forbidding. gooseflesh breaks out over his skin, leaving the tiny hairs all sticking out straight. looking all around him he sees nothing out of the ordinary, but he cant shake the feeling that there is something not right. and that music, so...so....mesmerizing. and just as suddenly as it started, the sounds cease, and he shivers as though he were freezing. his ukelele forgotten now, the quiet is eerie; no birds fly overhead, no boats, no planes. just the deep, unfathomable silence. in the stillness he is able to notice that the waves lapping at the edges of his boat are becoming more frenetic, more violent. the yacht begins to heave with the force of the waves, rocking back and forth like a ride at the carnival. but wait...he sees that there is still no wind; no movement outside of the water, which continues to build furious waves all around his boat and no where else. thick clouds pass across the sun, leaving the landscape in murky shadows. the waves seem to gather more power and the water is so dark, it seems almost black. he looks frantically around him, trying desperately to explain away this phenomenon when he sees movement around the side of his vessel....
He desperatelly clutches the railing of the yacht trying to prevent himself being thrown overboard. He feels the ship being lifted. He tries to keep his eyes shut, afraid of what he might see if he opens them. But curiousity wins. He slowly unscrews his eyes. For a while he can see nothing but darkness. Slowly his vision returns to normal and he looks around himself. All he can see is water. He realizes there's something wrong with the view though. Realization sinks as he dares to look down. His yacht has been lifted up, now lying on a huge mass of ...
post mortem slugs. It seemed as though an unsurmountable burden of sticky slime was holding his watercraft suspended from the slugs carcasses. It was a most unprecdented and unpredicatable situation to be stuck in, but Albert decided to make the best of it and used some of hte slug slime to patch an annoying hole that had wormed it's way into the sole of his shoe. Now that problem solved and his feet being once more compfortable he decided that his next move should be in trying to rid himself from the slug slime and that of his ship. He had an idea...
...which suddenly occurred to him as his foot once more became irritated. He slowly pulled off his left shoe and stared at the dime-sized hole that had now re-opened. Through it, he could clearly see a light blue sky, in sharp contrast to the stormy clouds and murky waters around him. He poked in his finger and pulled the hole open wider. The slug slime seemed to be eating away the material of the shoe and, as the hole widened, of the intangible space around it, too. Albert's vision of his surroundings suddenly flattened to that of a two-dimensional painting. Tightening his hold on his ukulele, which he somehow felt was responsible for the whole series of strange occurrences, he boldly thrust his head and shoulders through the now man-sized hole and found himself...
...on the fifth plane of existence, neither here nor there. While Albert was disheartened by the uncannily bizzarre, his one thought was, "Why me? My wife left for a rock star and my son was arrested for defecating in a mall, so what now, God? What's it gonna take for you to get it through your head that I HAVE HAD ENOUGH!" He clenched his ukelele as hard as his impassioned musical spirit was reunifiying with it. Albert played his heart out, and the notes resonated with the etheral magic of the fifth plane of existence. His song came from the divine itself and he saw the bright hue of his aura, glowing, and being as it never could be where we exist. As he played his phenominal cosmic powers traveled through the ukelele, sending him to New York, where he was to fight crime. "I hate you God" he said. "But I hate the people who caused this more, and I will return to where my family is from, and I will take back the streets of Gotham" He swung the magical instrument on his shoulder and teleported to Gotham, where he...