Post by Alexander V. Terada on Nov 16, 2015 17:35:07 GMT -5
Writer's Note: Hello one and all. So? Want to transpose your own embarrassing drinking stories, or even made up ones, onto someone else's character? Or do you just want to see someone hung over with memory loss trying to piece together the previous night? Well have we got a thread for you.
There was an attempt to get all this stuff organised in advance a while ago, and I got a few volunteers that were interested, but unfortunately I disappeared for a while. Well, luckily I'm back and instead of waiting this time, I feel like jumping straight into it. Don't know how many of those original people are still interested, but hopefully I can catch a few people's eyes. We'll be looking for two types of players. The more common types will be the 'one-off' contributors that'll just need to throw in a post or two. The second type are the players whose characters will be waking up hungover, with chunks of memory missing. Anyone can be the first type, but the thread's not going to work so well if everyone decides to be the second kind.
Here's the thread I'm trying to get everything organised on. How Much Did I Have To Drink Last Night?
The Formula for this thread is thus. A character wakes up somewhere strange with no memory of the previous night (save for, 'I went out drinking'). On them they have some unhelpful and maybe random clues, i.e Traffic Cones, Pineapples and or items of intimate clothing not belonging to them... For whatever reason, they need to try and piece together the previous night, so they go back to whatever place they remember having been and look for clues. During their search they'll bump into various people who will Contribute their share of the story that will hopefully help piece together the previous night. It'd be good to make sure we have enough embarrassing stories for each of of our drinking victims to hear and that nobody is made to do anything too out of character. Hence the thread for organising stuff on.
Finally, in regards to the threads tags:
-Open, because anyone can join.
-Group, cos it's going to be a group thread.
-And Invite because it'd be good if people sorted their stuff out first.
So now with all that covered, let the horrible morning after begin...
*****
The first thing one awakes to isn't the sound of the birds singing in the trees, the sunlight shining on your eyes through closed eyelids, or even the wetness of the grass on your skin. You awake to pain, emerging out of the fog of sleep into the nerve scratching, raw thick of it. Then you try to claw your way back into the numbness of unconsciousness. For a while you lie there trying to get back to sleep, but to no avail. The light keeps getting brighter, and the bird's incessant twittering continues to grow louder and louder, and all this does is make the pain worse.
For a while Alexander lies there, head buried in his arms, trying instinctively to bury his face in what little comfort the cool wet dew on the grass could provide. Finally it dawns on him that he has a number of clues that, any small amount of clear thinking, would tell him that he's not in his own bed. He's outside, he's lying on the grass not on his bed, there's a slight breeze. All in all there's only one thing he can make of the circumstances, only one way he can react.
"Uuuuuuuuu..."
He lifts his head slightly, opening his eyes, barely. Blinking, trying to cope with the harsh change in light. It was too bright.
"....uuuuuuuu..."
His hair was a mess. There was some horrific, unidentifiable taste that had apparently crawled into his mouth and died a slow, tortured, and leaky, pustule death.
"...aaarrrrrgggghhhh."
It was a long drawn out groan, the length of an entire drawn in breath, slowly released, quietly. He couldn't see it for himself, but his eyes were bloodshot. Head, stomach and eyes, those were the worst places of pain. Slowly he tries to draw himself up.
[Oh shit, not again. Where am I? What did I do this time?]
A sharp pain stabs forth, briefly overriding all of his other senses.
[And what did I do to my wrist?]
He'd collapsed down again, but it'd not been much of a fall, having just started to pick himself up again. After some heavy breathing and teeth clenching, he tries again. His right hand is out of the question, so it would mostly be a left hand and right elbow operation to get him back on his feet. Eventually he stands on his own two feet, before stumbling a short distance to a nearby tree. Leaning against it, he looks down to see something horrible, cold and wet that he'd just dragged a foot through.
[Great... Well, that explains the empty feeling in my stomach. Doesn't look like I'll be identifying what I drank last night by looking at that though.]
A night out drinking was a rare event for Alexander and this was the reason. He knew from experience that it took very little to get him drunk and not remembering what happened, but apparently, seemingly for the purpose of providing him with a plentiful supply of embarrassing stories, it took a great deal more to get him passed out. It was because of this he considered himself a lightweight and tried whenever possible to avoid drink. Nonetheless there were people that'd taken Alexander's getting out of the hospital as a reason to go out and celebrate. These were mostly people he'd worked with in the office, he honestly hadn't thought himself that close to anyone, but apparently someone had missed his presence. And so it was only in the face of that heavy and somewhat extensive group pressure that he'd let so much as a drop of liquor touch his lips, unfortunately that much was all it really took.
He begins to do checks, and tries to piece together something of the night before. For a while he stood there trying to recall, but memory of little help, he turns to what few clues he has. His right wrist was indicative of something, hopefully not a fight, but if it was, well it'd be quite fortunate that he'd left his Zanpakutou in the armoury. There was some sort of a soft bulge in one of his inside pockets. Unfortunately on his left side, so getting it out would be tricky. Tentatively trying to feel with his right hand, it was definitely something light, scrunched up even, and smooth to the touch like silk. For now he didn't want to know, it'd have to wait till he got back to his quarters and got into a change of uniform. A train of thought that lead to his next horrible discovery.
[Where is my key?]
The key to his room in the First, it was missing. He'd need to find it before he could get back and get changed. Gods, he hopes he'd just left it at the bar. Failing that, surely he'd find someone there who'd know where he went. Wiping his socks and sandals on the wet grass, he tries to make himself appear presentable. Smoothing down his hair, testing his breath...
"Urgh!"
...bad idea. The one thing he did now, was which bar he'd gone to. Straightening out his uniform, before setting off, he nearly stumbles over... something.
[Pineapple?]
Whatever. He picks the odd fruit up, to take it with him. Where it'd come from, here in the Seireitei, who knew. He sighs slightly before continuing on, across the turf, onto the streets and down the road. It was going to be one of those mornings...
Word Count: 912
GP: 18
There was an attempt to get all this stuff organised in advance a while ago, and I got a few volunteers that were interested, but unfortunately I disappeared for a while. Well, luckily I'm back and instead of waiting this time, I feel like jumping straight into it. Don't know how many of those original people are still interested, but hopefully I can catch a few people's eyes. We'll be looking for two types of players. The more common types will be the 'one-off' contributors that'll just need to throw in a post or two. The second type are the players whose characters will be waking up hungover, with chunks of memory missing. Anyone can be the first type, but the thread's not going to work so well if everyone decides to be the second kind.
Here's the thread I'm trying to get everything organised on. How Much Did I Have To Drink Last Night?
The Formula for this thread is thus. A character wakes up somewhere strange with no memory of the previous night (save for, 'I went out drinking'). On them they have some unhelpful and maybe random clues, i.e Traffic Cones, Pineapples and or items of intimate clothing not belonging to them... For whatever reason, they need to try and piece together the previous night, so they go back to whatever place they remember having been and look for clues. During their search they'll bump into various people who will Contribute their share of the story that will hopefully help piece together the previous night. It'd be good to make sure we have enough embarrassing stories for each of of our drinking victims to hear and that nobody is made to do anything too out of character. Hence the thread for organising stuff on.
Finally, in regards to the threads tags:
-Open, because anyone can join.
-Group, cos it's going to be a group thread.
-And Invite because it'd be good if people sorted their stuff out first.
So now with all that covered, let the horrible morning after begin...
*****
The first thing one awakes to isn't the sound of the birds singing in the trees, the sunlight shining on your eyes through closed eyelids, or even the wetness of the grass on your skin. You awake to pain, emerging out of the fog of sleep into the nerve scratching, raw thick of it. Then you try to claw your way back into the numbness of unconsciousness. For a while you lie there trying to get back to sleep, but to no avail. The light keeps getting brighter, and the bird's incessant twittering continues to grow louder and louder, and all this does is make the pain worse.
For a while Alexander lies there, head buried in his arms, trying instinctively to bury his face in what little comfort the cool wet dew on the grass could provide. Finally it dawns on him that he has a number of clues that, any small amount of clear thinking, would tell him that he's not in his own bed. He's outside, he's lying on the grass not on his bed, there's a slight breeze. All in all there's only one thing he can make of the circumstances, only one way he can react.
"Uuuuuuuuu..."
He lifts his head slightly, opening his eyes, barely. Blinking, trying to cope with the harsh change in light. It was too bright.
"....uuuuuuuu..."
His hair was a mess. There was some horrific, unidentifiable taste that had apparently crawled into his mouth and died a slow, tortured, and leaky, pustule death.
"...aaarrrrrgggghhhh."
It was a long drawn out groan, the length of an entire drawn in breath, slowly released, quietly. He couldn't see it for himself, but his eyes were bloodshot. Head, stomach and eyes, those were the worst places of pain. Slowly he tries to draw himself up.
[Oh shit, not again. Where am I? What did I do this time?]
A sharp pain stabs forth, briefly overriding all of his other senses.
[And what did I do to my wrist?]
He'd collapsed down again, but it'd not been much of a fall, having just started to pick himself up again. After some heavy breathing and teeth clenching, he tries again. His right hand is out of the question, so it would mostly be a left hand and right elbow operation to get him back on his feet. Eventually he stands on his own two feet, before stumbling a short distance to a nearby tree. Leaning against it, he looks down to see something horrible, cold and wet that he'd just dragged a foot through.
[Great... Well, that explains the empty feeling in my stomach. Doesn't look like I'll be identifying what I drank last night by looking at that though.]
A night out drinking was a rare event for Alexander and this was the reason. He knew from experience that it took very little to get him drunk and not remembering what happened, but apparently, seemingly for the purpose of providing him with a plentiful supply of embarrassing stories, it took a great deal more to get him passed out. It was because of this he considered himself a lightweight and tried whenever possible to avoid drink. Nonetheless there were people that'd taken Alexander's getting out of the hospital as a reason to go out and celebrate. These were mostly people he'd worked with in the office, he honestly hadn't thought himself that close to anyone, but apparently someone had missed his presence. And so it was only in the face of that heavy and somewhat extensive group pressure that he'd let so much as a drop of liquor touch his lips, unfortunately that much was all it really took.
He begins to do checks, and tries to piece together something of the night before. For a while he stood there trying to recall, but memory of little help, he turns to what few clues he has. His right wrist was indicative of something, hopefully not a fight, but if it was, well it'd be quite fortunate that he'd left his Zanpakutou in the armoury. There was some sort of a soft bulge in one of his inside pockets. Unfortunately on his left side, so getting it out would be tricky. Tentatively trying to feel with his right hand, it was definitely something light, scrunched up even, and smooth to the touch like silk. For now he didn't want to know, it'd have to wait till he got back to his quarters and got into a change of uniform. A train of thought that lead to his next horrible discovery.
[Where is my key?]
The key to his room in the First, it was missing. He'd need to find it before he could get back and get changed. Gods, he hopes he'd just left it at the bar. Failing that, surely he'd find someone there who'd know where he went. Wiping his socks and sandals on the wet grass, he tries to make himself appear presentable. Smoothing down his hair, testing his breath...
"Urgh!"
...bad idea. The one thing he did now, was which bar he'd gone to. Straightening out his uniform, before setting off, he nearly stumbles over... something.
[Pineapple?]
Whatever. He picks the odd fruit up, to take it with him. Where it'd come from, here in the Seireitei, who knew. He sighs slightly before continuing on, across the turf, onto the streets and down the road. It was going to be one of those mornings...
Word Count: 912
GP: 18
