Because we needed more things with the initials CC around here.
Well, friends. (And...all the rest of you...) 2017 started gloriously with the long awaited torching of the Forum Games den of foolishness and debauchery. After which, immediately, all the idiots it had sheltered came and pitched their tents here in the Creative Corner instead.
Let's take a moment to look over the filthy, embarassing shanty town we've created.
*****
While the mingled fires of destruction and creation had not yet cooled, and amidst other huge changes to the site such as the assignment of Orders,
celebrations occur and then suddenly all out
war breaks out among the Orders. Or...something. I'm not really sure what went on that night, I think everyone was still just a little giddy from accidental inhalation of the lead-tainted ashes that was all that remained of Forum Games.
Seto
determinely posts writing prompt threads that no one of interest posts anything worthwhile in. Good on him for trying though!
Romulus, poetic genius, creates highly educational
poetry prompt threads to uplift the masses. The masses remain for the most part unlifted, but the OPs are well worth a read.
Endmaster regales us with some ancient short
stories of his, flash fiction once posted on another site.
Steve makes a new
Council thread, but everyone agrees it's not as good as the old one.
The Penguinite makes a thread for
Sages, the self-evidently superior Order.
The entity known as Christimzag builds itself a little
clubhouse, has pillow fights, braids its hair, and talks about boys.
Some attempts are made at continuing stories with the audience voting on the direction it goes. They all flop and fade away instantly with sad little farts, but are still a good idea in theory if anyone here could just be reliable. Better luck in February.
Various other things happen that are too stupid or pointless to link to, such as Matthias reminding everyone once again he's a fucking idiot, and some smaller threads no one cared about fail to go anywhere.
But by far the star thread this month was Berka's
Dark City, a collaborative exercise in developing a setting. It even spawned two
additional threads for giving feedback and sorting out the details and lore created.
Also of note is
The Call of PikaChulu thread, in which Berka spends far too much time alone.
*****
So...the destruction of Forum Games, the birth of the Creative Corner? An unquestionably good thing?
One at first might say 'probably not, everyone is still terrible, how about some mass bannings?' but, I personally happen to believe there's still a glimmer of hope for maybe one or two of our roleplaying refugees. Today, I bring you Chris113022, formerly one of the most shameful and disgusting of a whole forum full of disgusting people doing shameful things. After I personally peeled him off the sidewalk and spoke inspirational words of great wisdom at him, he wound up having some inspirational words of his own for us, regarding the CYOA he started ages ago but is totally going to finish now, all thanks to the site's new writing focused direction:
Okay then. Well, I started writing Hazelmyre one day out of boredom. I was messing around on a name generator site and came across a name I really liked, which was Hazelmyre. I pictured what the plot would be, why the name Hazelmyre, shit like that.
I wrote the tavern scene immediately after brainstorming during a rare inspired moment and after that I procrastinated, cried over losing my third wife and son over my Forum Game addiction, then masturbated to a Patrick Swayze poster. Over the next few months during my withdrawals from Forum Games, I wrote bits and pieces of the next few pages before eventually I was too sucked into that shit to care about Hazelmyre. Now that they've finally flattened that cesspool of crime and villainy, I can actually work.
The basic plot of the game is simple: the main character, a traveler descended from one of the 'greatest knights in the land' (note: ancestor not actually one of the greatest knights in the land) goes to a tavern one evening. He meets three people (was originally four, though I widdled it down to match the classic adventuring party [fighter, mage, thief, with the main character acting as their leader and manager]), convinces them to join him in his quest to take on Mount Hazelmyre and defeat the dragon Tulveer the Black. They climb the mountain, meet the dragon, defeat/befriend/get eaten by him, and then...
That's it. The end. Of course, how exactly the main character achieves his goals (if he even achieves them at all) is entirely up to the reader.
(An excerpt from the second page follows)
'The year is 7939 AO, standing for After Olligan, founder of the Olligan Kingdom in which most of the human populace lives. If you were to count the years BO (Before Olligan) and DO (During Olligan), it would be 26601. You are a traveler, carrying nothing but a pouch of gold, a shortsword, and the clothes on your back. At your age, being 25, your mother would have wanted you to be living in a city, married and fat and boring, like how your father was, and how your grandfather was, and how your great grandfather supposedly was not.
Your great grandfather, once a member of King Thomas Olligan's Round Table of Knights and also one of the King's closest friends and confidants, was said to be the greatest hero in the land (next to King Thomas, of course). All the boys wanted to be like him, and when your grandpappy was born he was expected to be a man of action like his father (was said to be), but instead he became a librarian. That's right: the offspring of the (supposedly) greatest knight to ever live became a damn librarian. Your father followed in grandpappy's footsteps and chose a tame job, becoming a banker.
While those two were busy being boring and living boring lives and your brothers also continued down that path, you chose to live a life of adventure. From a young age you played with the neighborhood boys in the forest just outside of the city where you lived. You always dreamed of being a heroic knight, slaying dragons and banging princesses and being a lawful good tool.
But as you grew older you realized just how silly the idea was. Knights were just over-glorified poster boys. Remember how the narrator was saying things like 'supposedly the greatest knight' and 'said to be a great warrior' and things like that? Well, that's because great grandpappy was a fraud.
You discovered that your 'brave and strong' great grandfather was really just a scared, fat old man, tales of his exploits blown out of the water. Technically he slew a dragon, but it wasn't his sword that cut it down; it was the swords of the men he sent there. He didn't go out and seek adventure, he sat at home and sipped tea while the men carried out his orders.
From then on you knew the answer was not to become a knight and do all the work while someone else gets the credit. With nothing to your name but a sword, some gold, and the clothes on your back, you set out on an adventure into parts unknown.
That's what brought you to the small town of Hazelmyre, a tourist attraction because of the mountain from which its name is derived. Mount Hazelmyre is one of the most dangerous mountains in the world. If you can survive the frequent avalanches and the goblins camping around, the freezing temperatures near the top will certainly kill you. And if you can get past that, then you'll have to suffer the goblins and avalanches again on the way down. And if you get past that, then you've revoked anyone's right to complain about anything ever again.
Oh, and let's not forget the dragon.
Tulveer the Black. That's his name. Unlike his name suggests, he is actually a pale blue, but his title of 'The Black' is deserved; in his younger years, he would pillage towns and kidnap princesses and hoard loot and all that bloody stereotypical dragon stuff. No knight could slay him, no matter how famed said knight was. Eventually, Tulveer became bored of his lifestyle and chose to settle down, releasing the captive princesses (well, the ones he hadn't eaten) but taking the loot with him.
With this gold, he flew to Mount Hazelmyre and settled in a cave at the top. He does not bother the town, however his snoring often causes the aforementioned avalanches which occasionally reach the town. It doesn't harm it much, but it does take a while to clean all the snow out of the streets. Of course, if you were close enough to the mountain or even climbing the mountain, it would easily kill you.
Most of the men and women who try to climb the mountain are either never seen again or come back mauled, singed, frostbit, shell-shocked, and occasionally (despite all logic dictating it would be impossible), all of the above. When speaking of their experiences, they will usually speak of the goblin attacks, the avalanches, and, if they made it to the top, Tulveer. They claim the dragon is, surprisingly, rather kind and benevolent, and would not attack unless provoked. Of course, the singed ones are the ones that provoked him.'
*****
In short: "torching forum games was the best thing to happen to the site because now I can focus on writing, doing well in school, and shedding my fucking moobs instead of being a little fucktard."
*****
Truly, he speaks for us all.
