This a game with interaction from both many authors and players. It is pretty easy to get the hang of it. As stated in the other thread, this is how this works:





Alright then, on to the game! =D

"Make yourself at home, Chase," your Aunt Margaret says sweetly from the doorway of your temporary bedroom. "The bathroom is just down the hall, on the left, but you might...know that..." she adds, trailing off.

"If you need anything just holler," your Uncle Jim chimes in. "We'll let you unpack your things and get settled, but dinner will be ready in half an hour. One of us will come get you when everything is set up." All you can handle in response is a quick nod, not quite able to make eye contact with either of them. You hear your aunt mumble an excuse awkwardly, and your Uncle pulls the door to your room closed. You hear them both in the kitchen, talking quietly and preparing the evening meal.

A lot has happened in the past few weeks. Apparently, anyways. For most of that time you were asleep in a hospital bed. Even after you woke up three days ago, weak but not in pain, the police still had trouble identifying you. You were told late last night by your Uncle and Aunt that your name was Chase, you were 17 and due to graduate high school in two months (not like that is going to happen at this point, you add to yourself melodramatically). The police and doctor seemed willing to trust them, and having no desire to stare at the sterile white walls or generic "artwork" that adorned them, you decided to trust them as well.

The car ride home was long and not very pleasant.

The entire way, either your Aunt or Uncle would bring up tidbits about people and places you do not remember. A beach trip when you were ten, your birthday party eight months ago. Moreover, neither of them seemed to be very forthcoming about what exactly happened to you, and where your parents are. At least, you assumed that if you had an aunt and uncle, at one point you had parents. "The doctor wants you to have someplace to relax for a while," your Aunt had said, "we think it'd be best if you were to stay with us for a few weeks."

A phone rings in a nearby room, snapping you back to the present. You sit uncomfortably on an old feather mattress, haphazardly made in blue sheets that didn't quite fit. At one time this had been your cousin Laura's bedroom, but she had since then graduated college and moved out into an apartment downtown with her boyfriend. When your Aunt had told you that much, neither of them seemed too pleased she had left with her boyfriend, but you didn't ask for anymore information than that. You open up a duffel bag that your Aunt and Uncle had given you back at the hospital to find clothes that fit you well - all of them are comfortable and broken in. They must have been to your house, wherever that is.

You suddenly remember something. You remember the neighborhood surround your home and desperately fumble around your cousin's old desk for paper and pencils. You find the paper without a problem, but apparently the only writing utensils you could find are crayons. You begin to scribble frantically, outlining what you believe to be your neighborhood. After pausing for a moment, you begin to fill in a few things around your Aunt and Uncle's house, too.

At least this bit of memory proves one thing: you've been to this house before. When, where, or why is still a mystery to you. Your Uncle knocks on the door, frightening you. You stuff the map into your pocket and hold your breath.. "Chase? Dinner is on the table." You hear him wait a moment, and then turn back around and head towards the kitchen. You exhale as soon as he sounds like he is back in the kitchen.

Shouldn't you finish start your other game before making another one?

Walk into the kitchen looking utterly miserable and confused. Cry after a few moments after entering the kitchen.

Start what game?

Wait, why are we crying? Make your posts a little more thoughtful than that.

Too sleepy right now to read the wall of text, but I'll get in this tomorrow.

You're really awesome at this Kame. Reading this makes me even more sad that your other game with the Mad Eraser got derailed by bad players. I will say though, that you cement us into the next action a lot. Maybe players aren't just being trolls; maybe they hate being confined to one most desirable action, and rebel against it. If you want to write a really awesome linear story, then do that. I get lost in your writing, so really, do it!
But if you want to do this Open Adventure story thing, you're gonna have to make things more dynamic. Like here, we're being 'pulled' into the dining room, and not a single place else. The only way the next post isn't going to start of with us eating with our family is if enough trolls post "jump out the window!" and nobody wants that.
Here's to hoping that you only did it this time because it's the first post.

Go out and eat dinner.

Your rotating author game.

Read the second sentence of the other thread.

Edit: To be clear, can you tell me if this is how it works?

The current author gets to write three posts to advance the narrative. After each post, the first person to say "do X" has determined what will happen in the next post. After the third post, the person that said "do X" first after the first post becomes the new author and gets to do the next first post.

So for example, after your third post, Raitaki will be the new author. In your next post, you have to include going into the kitchen and cry due to being miserable about something. Anything that anyone else posts after him is irrelevant to the storyline.

Do I understand the system correctly?

Post has been edited 2 time(s), last time on Aug 14 2011, 7:48 am by Azrael.Wrath.

yup.

Kame's failing, I might just write the next post.

In order to facilitate reading for anyone that will want to follow this in the future, I started a Google Document here. I will try to follow this and add to the document as time goes. For now, I left the document as read only, but I can change it at anytime if requested.

You walk slowly into the kitchen and lean against the door jam. Your uncle is sitting at the set table at the far end, reading a magazine and gripping a cup of coffee firmly. Your aunt is at the oven, pouring a pot of corn into a serving dish. She grabs a spoon from one of the drawers, sets it and the corn on the table, and goes back towards the oven before noticing you. "Take a seat, Chase," she said kindly, reaching for an oven mitt, "let me take the chicken out of the oven and we'll all have dinner." You sit down next to your Uncle and try to discern what it is that he is reading. Instead of a magazine as you had first thought, it was a pamphlet that a local committee puts out monthly based entirely on whats going on in the neighborhood. Your mother used to rid it, pulling at your heart strings a little. You feel a tear well up in your eye as you remember your mother. You two would often get into spits with each other, usually over something such as laundry or driving habits, but in the end you were sure that she loved you. What happened to her? If she had been involved in whatever it was that happened to you, could she be worse off?

Agonized by your own imagination, your eyes red and your nose runny, you set your head in your hands and begin to cry. It is the first moment that you have felt anything other than shock. You felt a hand rub your back, and didn't care to see if it was your aunt or uncle. Usually you'd throw it off in a fit of rage, but right now the sympathy felt good. You wanted sympathy. You hear your Aunt set a heavy dish down on the table softly and take her seat. It must have been your Uncle. You look up at him and stare for a moment, his pamphlet folded on the side of the table. Suddenly aware of the two person audience, you try to distract yourself, and you stare vacantly at the pamphlet. Typically, the thing only held news on local fundraisers and school events, but since it came out monthly it missed the mark on many other important events in the neighborhood. In the top right corner, it read "JUNE 2011 ISSUE." The most current one just came out. For one narcissistic moment, you thought to yourself that maybe your accident had made it into this paper. While it wouldn't be worthy enough for large coverage, surely this thing would have noticed the kid in a coma without any name for two weeks?

Your hand idly drifted towards the paper, but your Uncle pulled it back. "Let's eat dinner first, Chase. Then you can read," he smiled. The two unfolded their napkins and set them in their lap, passing around the trays and setting them down once they were finished. You look at your full plate, but even the aroma of your aunt's home cooking couldn't shake you out of this stupor. You dumbly move kernels of corn around the plate, nibbling at small pieces of chicken to not seem rude. Most of the meal was consumed in silence. No one was sure of what could be or should be said. You open your mouth to speak, but not finding the words you shut it quickly.

"This is a very hard time for you," your aunt starts to say, "but if you have any questions, we will answer them for you." You just stared at her. You had asked several times where your parents were, or what happened, or why you were here. All you had received were cryptic tidbits of information, none of which seemed too useful. What would change that now? The doorbell rang, breaking the silence and causing you to jump. Your aunt dabs at her face and gets up quickly to answer the door, mumbling something on the way out. You here her greet an exuberant woman warmly, and then a light laughter that followed. You try to place the newcomer's face but can't come up with anything. She definitely looked familiar, and was about the same age as your aunt. A neighbor, maybe?

"That's our neighbor on the right side, Mrs. Glad. Your room looks right into her apple tree. She's probably just hear to snoop around," your Uncle supplemented. At least that solidified the news worthiness of your stay. You nodded your head, trying to force yourself to remember what you could of the Glad family. They had one child, someone you were very close with growing up - but was it a girl or a boy? All you could remember when being around them was a mischievous happiness. "Chase I'd love to give you all the information I could, even your aunt wants to. She's just better at being tight lipped," he admitted quietly, "but the doctor has told us to send you to a psychiatrist, and we must defer to the psychiatrist's judgment. Otherwise, who knows what would happen. You wouldn't be with family any more, that's for sure. They've already scheduled your first meeting for tomorrow at ten," he said with a bitter shrug. He sighed as he heard footsteps coming towards the kitchen. He dropped his voice lower before adding, "Hurry! Go up to your room before she gets to the kitchen! I promise I'll answer any questions tonight after she leaves." He nods meaningfully at the direction of your room.

You look at the neighborhood publication, longing to take it with you. But the footsteps were coming closer, and if you wanted to get out of the situation quickly you'd have to leave it behind. Maybe later tonight you could come back for it. Your uncle talks loudly about how you excused yourself to take a shower. Finding that a good idea, you sift through your duffel bag for some soap and shampoo, thankful that you also found a toothbrush and tooth paste.

Before heading into the bathroom you stare out the window. The sun is setting behind the Glad's house, casting strange shadows into your room from the silhouetted apple tree. A movement in a window across from yours catches your eye. It looks like a young woman, maybe a year or two younger than you, beckoning you over. You squint in an effort to make out the image. Its no use; as far as you know, you are imagining things. You shrug and go to take a shower, lazily washing yourself in an attempt to let the sun set as far as possible, trying to formulate a plan. You could go downstairs and demand answers, or you could go see the girl in the window. You would have to sneak out if Mrs. Glad was still here, but that might be best - you didn't want that busybody interfering anyways. You get out and dress hastily, listening downstairs. It is completely silent. You cross the hallway back to your room. The kitchen light is still on, and a dishwasher is rumbling quietly. Your heart sunk as you realized that Mrs. Glad had left for the evening. You close the door to your room and look back out at the next house. The window that you had thought you had seen someone in was swollen with light. You held your breath as you searched the small window for any clues. It was a bedroom, that was for sure, but there weren't enough personal effects to tell who lived in that room. Suddenly, a hand jumped across the window, setting a book down on the desk. A woman stood in front of it now, stretching. She halted her stretches upon seeing you and her eyes grew wide.

She was trying to say something, but you couldn't make out what. You shook your head and shrug. She sighed, looked around, and begin to mime. Never being good at charades, you tried to guess what she was saying. She made a climbing motion, followed but running and then climbing again. Was she suggesting you run away?

Your Uncle coughed, making you jump. Anxiously, you turned around to see if he was in the room with you, but he wasn't. It must have been from the kitchen. You turn back around at the window, but the light is now off, the figure crawling into bed. You sigh.

Looking over the events of the day, you try to decide what to do. There was the logical solution: sleep and wait for the inevitable psych visit the following morning. But right now that didn't seem like a good idea, you knew you'd be up for a while yet. You could also go down to your Uncle and try to get him alone so that the two of you can talk, but it didn't seem like your Aunt was going to bed anytime soon, and unless you were able to separate them you doubted that your uncle would be forth coming. You could go down and get the pamphlet, hoping for some news of your parents and your accident. Or, of course, you could sneak out, and see if the woman next door really was asleep, or whether she was waiting for your visit. Your were started to get restless. Even a quick walk around the block felt like they could calm your nerves, and maybe you'd find more of your memories just be doing this.



This is the rotating author game.


Yep. I was waiting to see if Raitaki had any reason to be crying, because honestly I want this to be a little more serious. It can have silly moments, I just don't want it to degrade into trolls trolling trolls. The only time this is not true is if it is obvious the first response is trying to troll, because that wouldn't be fun >.<

Am not failing! And I tried adding a couple more options this time, but you could do pretty much whatever you wanted. You don't need direct ideas.


That's awesome.

Sneak down, get pamphlet. Take it back to room, read it. Regardless of what it says, sneak over to girl that was beckoning to you, wake her up and try to get yourself invited inside. Ask her what she wanted, and what she knows. Attempt to get supplemental information from her.

You try to make as little noise as possible while you walk down the staircase. You are mostly successful, only making a few squeaks as you walk along. At the bottom you listen to hear where your aunt and uncle are. There is a low buzz coming from the ancient television in the living room, and you assume that they have both relocated into there. You peer around the door jam into the kitchen, just in case. You see no one in the room, even though the lights are still on. Directly across from you, on the other side of the table, is a sliding door allowing access to the backyard. To the left quite a ways is another doorway that empties out into a short hallway, and then the living room. They shouldn't see you from here.

Not that you were doing anything wrong, but you felt the distinct need to keep a low profile while receiving as much information as possible. In fact, you might be able to just read the pamphlet in the kitchen, but you don't want to wait to find out and lose your chance at any piece of information you can find. You look at the table. Luckily the pamphlet is still there. You are just about to grab it when the lights shut off, causing you to jerk your hand back. Your heart beat picks up. The light turns back on. "I'm sorry Chase," your aunt says, blinking in shock, "I didn't realize you were in here."

"I uh, just came down for some food," you stammer out the lie, "I realized I was hungry so..." you don't quite finish the sentence.

"Well, help yourself," your aunt responds, "we're going to bed soon. Did you need any help finding anything?" You drop your gaze and shake your head defiantly, "very well. I'll be taking you to the psychiatrist tomorrow morning."

"Can my Uncle do it?" You plead. You can tell that your aunt is surprised by the request, and even you are surprised to find yourself asking.

"Well, sure, I think that can be arranged. Good night, Chase," she looks at you a second, thinking that she might say something else, and then leaves you alone in the kitchen. You hear the television in the other room shut off and your uncle follow her. You look into the refrigerator, but having no appetite in reality you quickly close it. You wait a few minutes to make sure your aunt and uncle don't come down before finally mustering up the courage to open the pamphlet.

Most of the articles in it were very boring, close to none of it could be considered newsworthy. A couple of alumni from the area were going to get married in a few weeks, there were two baby announcements, one of which was from someone that you knew from school a couple years ago. Near the middle of the pamphlet, you find an article barely two paragraphs long to be the only tidbit that might relate to you and your accident:

MAPLE DRIVE ACCIDENT STILL A MYSTERY, AT LARGE
The car accident that claimed the life of three and gave another
a coma has had no leads and no new information come forward.
Authorities remain tight-lipped about the surviving member of the
accident, although it has been suggested by the hospital that took
him in that he should be returning to family soon.
Lieutenant Eric Walters, who is personally over seeing the investigation,
has found no new leads concerning who caused the accident, but he
suspects foul play. Investigations are continuing as new information
becomes available.
The police department is restricting information on the surviving
member of the accident. The only information available is that he is
due to graduate in May, and that his doctors and the school district
hope to make that possible.

The article said three. Did that include your parents? But then, who else...? You skim the last several pages for anything interesting, but find nothing more than a few fliers for church picnics, yard sales and block parties. You fold the pamphlet up neatly again and go back to your room. Not only is the light on again in your neighbor's window, but you see the girl leaning out of it, searching. She locks onto you and waves you over again. You open your own window and look down. Not the hardest jump, but it wouldn't be the easiest. You'll have to find another way down unless you want to risk breaking your neck.

Instead, you decide to go out through the kitchen. You sneak back down, and quietly close the door behind you. The lawn is damp and the air was brisk. If it wasn't so vital that you get across to your neighbor, you might have stayed out to enjoy the air. You are not outside of her window, but once again the light is off. You feel a tap on your shoulder that nearly makes you jump, and then you hear a repressed laugh.

"Its alright Chase," a calm feminine voice says behind you. You turn to see a stunning girl, about your age, with long brunette hair. She smirks at you, but her face soften to a kind smile. "Do you recognize me? Its Steph. Stephanie Glad? We used to hang out during the summers when you came to visit." You are unable to answer right away. "Come on, let's go for a walk." You fall into pace beside her, and neither of you talk until you are two blocks down. On your left, you see a familiar park, causing you to stop and change direction. You walk towards a swing and sit down, letting the swing lazily carry you a couple of inches off the ground. Stephanie sat down on a nearby swing. You realize she's watching you.

"What?"

"Do you remember anything?" She asks suddenly, "I mean, anything. The investigators are keeping quiet, and newspapers can't get anything out about anything you or your parents were doing."

"No, I don't. Did - did my parents die?" You ask her, barely able to get the last word out. Stephanie dropped her gaze. "I see. And what about you? Are you like your mother? Do you just want a bone to toss to some newspaper?"

"No! Of course not!" Her eyes were wide in horror, "I guess I'm just curious. I haven't ever been put in a coma," she blushed, realizing how foolish it was for her to say. You both smiled.

"Did you know a lot about my parents?" You ask. She looked up thoughtfully, then at you.

"I knew...some. Not a lot. It depended on what your aunt and uncle told my mom. It went down the grapevine. I think your father was a scientist, wasn't he?" She looked at you, and then dropped her gaze in embarrassment. "Maybe I can help you remember. Do you have any questions?"




Okay, its Raitaki's turn. 8D Any questions you ask Stephanie he'll have to answer. Or you know, you can do anything else.

Ask her who the third person that died in the accident was. Find out if there's anyone she knows who would have reason to want to kill either her parents or the third person in the accident. Ask her if you and your family seemed happy to her. Ask her how close she and you were before you lost your memories. Tell her about how you've felt so lost and alone ever since coming out of the coma. Expand on this to make her feel genuinely sorry for you. Stop mid-sentence to choke back fake crying and force yourself to shed a tear to successfully manipulate her into opening up her heart even more to you. Look into her eyes and tell her that, for the first time since the accident, being with her, you finally don't feel alone. As your words and mannerisms compel her to feel the emotional connection you're forcing on her, lean across the gap between the swings and kiss her deeply. Put your hand through her hair and rest it on the back on her head, heightening the passion of this seemingly spontaneous moment. Make all the right movements to engage her physically so she will be overtaken by a flood of chemicals and get lost in the moment. Pull her gently to the ground without pulling away or stopping. Continue to escalate the intimacy level of contact between you and her until you have successfully had sexual intercourse. Convince yourself that using your own apparent emotional vulnerability to take advantage of the situation was okay, because the ends justify the means.

You think about the article in the pamphlet. You recall it saying that three people died in the accident that left you in a coma. Determined to find as much information as possible about your family, you ask Stephanie, "The third person who died in the acc-", seeing the expression of horror on her face, you change the question hastily, "I mean, the other person in my family aside from me and my parents...Do you know who that is?"

"I-I don't know, Chase. I think my mom mentioned that you have an uncle on your father's side...And that's it."

You nod and drop your gaze to the ground, trying to dig through the depths of your buried memory for any images of a man....You can vaguely remember his high shoulders, his tidy black hair, the sparkles in his green eyes...You try hard to recall who he is...Who is he? Is he your deceased dad, your other uncle, one of your relatives, or just someone you met somewhere? You try hard to search for any memories that can give you a hint, but nothing came....You grinded your teeth in frustration, wondering why the hell must this happen, who the hell to blame for the accident....

"Chase?"

"Hm?"

You look up, and realize Stephanie Glad was looking at you with worried eyes, and feel your eyes watery, your eyebrows furrowed, the muscles on your face tense with concentration. You pretend to scratch your forehead and wipe your eyes, wondering how your facial expression looked like to her. Frustrated at your memory loss, grateful of all the comfort from all the people who seem to knew you so well but feel so distant to you, anger wells up within you, and you feel a great desire to find the person behind the wheel of the car that stole your life from you, to make the driver suffer, to make him pay for the things done to you. Avoiding Stephanie's eyes, you ask, "Do you know who the driver of the other car in the accident was? Or anyone that might have a reason to kill either my parents or my uncle?"

Stephanie stares wide-eyed at your face, then says softly, "Chase, I don't know, but just don't keep brooding about the accident, okay? Please calm down, the driver might have not crashed into your family by accident. So please don't hate him, okay?" She looks straight into your eyes, and you into her eyes, and you see all the concern, the pity, the sadness in her eyes. You calm down somewhat, and again drop your gaze to your feet, ashamed of yourself. You realize how lonely you feel, even with all these people around trying to help you. Without thinking, you stammer, "Stephanie...Did my family seem happy to you?"

"Yes, Chase. Your family got along nicely."

You imagine how it'd be if all this hasn't happened. You imagine yourself laughing with a tall, handsome man and a kind, caring woman. You imagine your dad asking where do you want to go tonight, you want to go swimming, it's quite a sunny day outside, if you want to call your friends to come and we go, then your mom says remember to apply the suntan lotion young man, you wouldn't want to show up at school all black next week would you, and I'm all tired of your whining every time you get a suntan that your back hurts. Your mind goes cloudy and tears well up in your eyes as you think about the family you don't have anymore and the moments that you don't remember. Weakly, you say, "I want them to still be here with me. I want to know what a family feels like. I want to remember what a family feels like."

Your voice broke. Through your teary eyes you can see, or think you are seeing, tears rolling down Stephanie's cheek. You feel her arms around your neck, the muffled sobs from her throat. "Oh, Chase!"

Trying to hold back the sobs in your throat, you say slowly, "Steph, ever since that day, only now that I'm with you, I truly don't feel....". Your voice trails off. You can feel Stephanie's arms loosening from your neck and her looking up. To your left, you can see a man pouring an oily yellow liquid into the grass. With swift motions he shakes out all the liquid inside the container he's holding, then he backs off a few paces, takes out a small object wrapped with paper, ignites the paper with a match, then throws the burning object into the grass. Angry flames quickly sprouted and spread viciously through the grass and up a nearby tree. Stephanie shrieks and tugs at your shirt, telling you that you have to run. Your eyes, however, are locked into something else than the flames: an old man, apparently exhausted, alternating between walking and jogging, seemingly unaware, just a few dozens feet from the flames.

I knew you'd be extremely uncomfortable writing that, I figured you'd do something like a short time skip accompanied by excessively vague innuendo that something had happened. Considering that it went along with the intended storyline, albeit unexpected and of somewhat questionable morality, I didn't expect everything to be simply ignored. It would have simultaneously progressed the storyline, kept the narrative interesting, taken you out of your comfort zone, and made the character seem more human. All good things.

Anyways, I didn't know this was like Symmetry's Chance game, where you roll a random die to decide what happens. I was under the impression that whatever is said is incorporated into the events of the storyline, without the random chance of strangers appearing to randomly set things on fire.

If you're that committed to making the character as unrealistically pure and innocent as possible with no actually human self-serving moments, the storyline isn't going to be interesting at all.

Here's my reply to your post:

• Look into the flames and be paralyzed in horror as memories are triggered by them. Remember flashes of vivd imagery from the car accident: Breaking the window out with your foot, trying to help get your mother out, seeing her legs mangled, watching the flames spread over the car, hearing their screams as they burned to death. Collapse on the ground in terrible emotional anguish, clutching your head and sobbing uncontrollably as you try to forget what you just remembered. Become incapable of paying attention to what's going on around you or even being able to move.

Let's play nice, no god modding. I know I left the original three posts rather vague, but I am hoping someone grabs on to one of the characters and runs with them and makes them awesome. Since the author rotates, I think it would make the most sense for player suggestions to be simple, implying some emotion but not going crazy. If you provide too much information you end up railroading the plot.

Also, on a funny note, romance, really? I wanna see this!

That's the thing, it's not like nothing else can happen. I think the author should expand on the events given, detail them, and add their own things between/before/after them as well. This "random man sets a fire" stuff could easily have happened after the fact.

It might've been intentional, to be fair. Maybe Chase knows too much (or would if he were to regain his memory), since foul play is suspected at the crime scene. Maybe Raitaki is trolling. I don't think we need to spell out all options. I mean, I guess you could jump into the flames and burn to death, but you also could try to approach the man, put the flames out, call the police, or run. Each could have they're own repercussions. (approach: will he hurt you? flames out: will it work? call the police:will it have lasting implications (ie your psych visit), run: will someone see you and suspect you?)

Its all cool. This is a game, we should have fun!

I'm kinda on an acid trip today, so....maybe I'll do the post tomorrow. Sorry guise!