Prompts 6/2 to 6/5

Game On
6/2 prompt "What makes it a game anyway?"

There are a few things that make a game a game. Rules, a quantifiable outcome and negotiable consequences. Rules are the obvious part. Quantifiable outcome can be many things: how much money you win in poker, player set goals in The Sims, the point values for hitting people in the driving game, certain death in Russian Roulette. Negotiable consequence is the ability to bet your pants in poker instead of your last $100.

In this way, The Sims is only sometimes a game. There is no built in score. There is no clear goal or end to the game. There are rules, but not many. Russian Roulette is not a game. The consequences are non-negotiable by definition. The driving game (if you don't know what the driving game is...) is most certainly a game. It has rules, there is a quantifiable outcome in the points system and has negotiable consequences...mostly in whether or not you actually are going to play for the most points.

Not Quite There
6/3 prompt "Is it even possible? Write about someone who has no enemies."

From the minute she was born (she's still not exactly sure when), she's had at least one enemy.

Her first was her father. He refrains from killing her, though, because he's missed too many chances to kill her before. And Mark hates to admit his mistakes. She repays him by not killing him.

Next was her mother. Mark warns her that her mother is probably the one who made her in The Vat. Morganna never admits it and Arcane owes Mark so she kills her mother and takes her throne. Literally.

Mark gives her a list of her grandfather, half-siblings and cousins. She doesn't ask questions, just takes her ice cream and goes to work.

One day, Arcane will be able to say she has no enemies.

Grin and Bear It
6/4 prompt "What made your childhood bearable?"

Jordan's childhood is completely normal. To her. Most other people (those not raised by M.R.C.), would say she was abused as a child.

The teachers did nothing to end fights, even among the children. Jordan thinks they thought it was a good way to prepare them for what's to come later. She can't exactly say they were wrong. Jordan is more well prepared than most of the teens who come to M.R.C.

She beats one teen in a fight once, just to prove a point. She wins, of course.

It wasn't that fight that made it so the other children (even the new ones) didn't come after her constantly. It certainly didn't hurt, though.

Horror Movies
6/5 prompt "Who scared you and laughed?"

Jordan half stumbles and half sprints out of the greasy establishment. She barely keeps herself upright as she gasps for breath.

“Let me get this straight,” a deep voice from behind her makes her jump,

Jordan turns to see Lucien and Stefan there, barely containing their laughter. She glares at them, still trying to steady her legs.

“So, you can face down people who you know can, and will, kill you without so much as blushing...but you can't sit through a horror movie?” Stefan taunts Jordan,

“It was almost half-way through,” Jordan pants,

“Ooh man,” Lucien laughs, “You're saying that's the longest you've ever lasted in a scary movie?”

Jordan manages to actually stand up to fix her two older brothers with a half-assed glare. This sobers them a bit, but they continue to snicker. Jordan groans and drags a hand over her face. She's never going to live this one down...

The bright side is she's wearing really dark pants today.

---

Game On- This is what you get when you ask a game major about what makes a game a game. I'm pretty sure that's by Jesper Juul's definition of a game. I was too tired to go get my game design book.

ANYWAY. Hell week is over. Finals week next week.

First sins

Her first sin was undoubtedly anger. Wrath, technically. It's not so much a part of her anymore. No, she needs to stay level-headed now.

But when she was a child and a teenager, she fed that sin (she didn't know it was a sin, in her defense) like it was her pet dog. She had always wanted a pet dog. She would have spoiled a dog. She did spoil Wrath.

To her, Wrath is red. It has many eyes, many mouths and many teeth. Its tongue laps at her belly, stoking the fire of rage there. It has only recently gained a leash (and some chains.)


For the prompt "What was your first sin?" for 5/17

Sphere Collecting

A lady with gray hair carefully lifts a crystal sphere off of her mantle. She places it on the coffee table, making sure it won't roll away. She shuffles into her aging kitchen, stopping in front of the tarnishing mirror to fix her short, wispy hair. The lady carefully fills a porcelain kettle with cold water, produces a handful of loose leaf tea from a jar and methodically places it into the kettle. The kettle is placed onto the burner as it clicks to life. She checks the coffee machine which had been started half an hour ago. The machine is still slowly dripping the potent liquid into the pot below. She shuffles back into the living room, surveying the layout there. Her chair is placed perfectly in the sunspot and the loveseat is angled towards her chair. The sphere, thankfully, is still in place in the middle of the table. She frowns at the table, trying to figure out what is missing there. She gasps as she realizes what is missing. The lady returns with a plate of assorted cookies and places it to the side of the cookies.

The doorbell announces that her visitor has arrived. She hurries to the door and pulls it open as fast as her creaking joints allow.

“Come in, come in,” she says to the other woman,

The woman is taller than she expected. The other woman's hair is long and black, her eyes look strange, but they never stay still long enough for the old woman to see.

“Marianne, is it?” the woman has a soothing, confident voice,

She steps inside Marianne's house with a wide smile.

“I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you so early,” Marianne's voice wavers, “The tea's still on...and I wasn't sure if you like coffee or not,”

“Coffee will be fine,” the mysterious woman answers,

The woman sits in the loveseat. Her attention is immediately on the sphere so carefully laid on the table. The kettle whistles. Marianne starts, but the woman seems unaware.

“The coffee...please?” the woman prompts,

Marianne starts again, this time towards the kitchen.

When Marianne returns, the woman is holding the antique sphere in her hand. She opens her mouth to admonish, but realizes that the woman's sphere is discolored in the middle, a sort of swirling pattern that makes it seem like it has motion. Marianne finds herself compelled to sit on the loveseat with the woman, if only to get a closer look at the intriguing pattern. The woman takes the coffee from Marianne's hands and holds the sphere in her hands a bit closer to herself.

“Do you mind?” the woman asks after taking a gulp or two,

The woman gestures towards the sphere on the table. But she's reaching for it before Marianne answers. The woman's finger no more than caresses the surface of the sphere before it begins to change. The sphere in her hand and Marianne's sphere now look identical. Both spheres contain the same swirling pattern in their cores.

“Oh, excellent,” the woman smiles,

“I don't understand...that ball has been in my family for generations...it's a priceless, one of a kind...!” Marianne cries, feeling on the verge of fainting, “It's never done that before!”

“Ooh,” the woman coos at her, sounding disappointed, “This is a sphere, not a ball. And it is just what I've been looking for!”

“How...how did you get a copy? How did you get it to do that?” Marianne sinks further into the chair,

“These spheres require a certain...touch...to work,” the woman regards her own sphere with pride, “I can't be sure which is the copy, actually. I was worried that mine was the fake. But with two...! With two I have twice the power. This...this is amazing!”

The woman's odd eyes began to take on a manic gleam that was unsettling Marianne. She sinks further into the loveseat. Suddenly, the woman stands, holding both spheres,

“I'm going to need this. Terribly sorry,”

And the woman is gone, leaving only the faint smell of coffee.

Pchoooo! For the 5/10 prompt "What if someone had the same exact one-of-a-kind object as you?"

Vivian's Origin Story

Vivian lorded over spoons. And sporks. The forks had long ago been banished for not being able to hold enough liquid. Soup was no longer being served in the cafeteria. Mostly mystery meat and evil corn. Do not eat evil corn. It is evil.

Chili had mystery meat. It is best eaten with sporks. Vivian is chili's favorite. Wait. Chili is vivian's favourite.

When she is evicted from spoon-spork-under-chair-land, she is in her square room. She has a circle room, too. It's outside. The candy man comes by with brightly colored, bad tasting pills. Vivian turns the pill into her cheek and smiles beguilingly at the candy man. She ruffles Vivian's hair and closes the heavy door.

Vivian spits out the candy into the toilet and rinses her mouth in the sink. Vivian gaze sharply at the three bars over her window. She jerks the bars and they slide free, one by one. The window isn't locked. She squeezes through the small, rectangular window and tip-toes on the lip there. The roof is just within reach. Vivian pulls herself up with practiced ease. She slips out of the bright white hospital clothes and into the black polyester bodysuit. She slips on the night vision goggles and leather gloves. Checks the knives on her calves, wrists, waist and back.

Vivian grins catty at the night and slides off the roof.


Again, from the Adventure-verse. Adventures is a long-time-running role-playing game/universe owned and created by Richard Palmgren. Its rules have never been published so only a few people from my home town know the system and the story. Vivian is my character's name. And my name. Most long time players end up having their real name as their character's name. So, that's why my character has my name. I've been wanting to write stuff based on my experiences with Adventures for a while...sooo here goes >.<

PS: This is my character's origin story based on my character's history, which was written when I was like 12 or 11.