Role-Playing - "Sometimes there's worse things than dying."

Erin wrote:Here's my two cents. Maybe the ghosts don't exactly have goods. They can communicate with other dead beings or something along those lines, and in exchange, people allow them to... Feed off their spirit/emotions/soul? Like desperate people looking for answers or closure about a lost loved one. Not that the ghosts take too much. Just enough to keep them going.

Our story is a creepy ghost story in which a few friends notice that people have been disappearing in their town. This is because of two groups of ghosts: One group has been staying in the village and "lives" peacefully with the people in the village, and other that went away because they were really angry and bitter. Now the angry group is back and they've decided to sacrifice people from the village in order to free themselves from the curse. This will give mystery a high priority in our story: People just start disappearing and communication with the good ghosts is disrupted so they can't tell us anything. Also we can make it creepy by saying that the evil ghosts (Reapers?) have to brainwash people and get them to commit suicide.

Our story is a creepy ghost story in which a few friends notice that people have been disappearing in their town. This is because of two groups of ghosts: One group has been staying in the village and "lives" peacefully with the people in the village, and other that went away because they were really angry and bitter. Now the angry group is back and they've decided to sacrifice people from the village in order to free themselves from the curse. This will give mystery a high priority in our story: People just start disappearing and communication with the good ghosts is disrupted so they can't tell us anything. Also we can make it creepy by saying that the evil ghosts (Reapers?) have to brainwash people and get them to commit suicide.

One slightly morbid idea: The bad ghosts-who-steal-people should start picking through a school (ie child sacrifice or whatever). This has been your morbid idea of the day.

Our story is a creepy ghost story in which a few friends notice that people have been disappearing in their town. This is because of two groups of ghosts: One group has been staying in the village and "lives" peacefully with the people in the village, and other that went away because they were really angry and bitter. Now the angry group is back and they've decided to sacrifice people from the village in order to free themselves from the curse. This will give mystery a high priority in our story: People just start disappearing and communication with the good ghosts is disrupted so they can't tell us anything. Also we can make it creepy by saying that the evil ghosts (Reapers?) have to brainwash people and get them to commit suicide.

Dan wrote:

Angela wrote:

Kara wrote:

Dan wrote:Our story is a creepy ghost story in which a few friends notice that people have been disappearing in their town. Now in the village there are lots of ghosts, but they're friendly. They trade artifacts with people in the village--usually something from this world for something from the world beyond. They are trying to get the artifacts they each need to expiate themselves from the curse they are under.
People are disappearing because of another group of ghosts that went away long ago because they were really angry and bitter. Now the angry group is back and they've decided to sacrifice people from the village. (Starting with a school of children). This will give mystery a high priority in our story: People just start disappearing and communication with the good ghosts is disrupted so they can't tell us anything. Also we can make it creepy by saying that the Reapers have to brainwash people and get them to commit suicide. The Reaper ghosts have discovered that by killing people or whatever, they can actually get closer to being alive again. But of course, they won't be really alive, per se, but for them, it's good enough.

Outline

• A semi-boring incident before things get hectic.
• First disappearance.
• Second disappearance.
• One of the old ghosts manages to drop a clue to the Rapscallions.
• One of the Rapscallions goes missing.
• Missing Rapscallion returns delirious.
• Rapscallions go get an artifact deadly to the Reapers.
• Big showdown.
• Conclusion in which the Crew decides to stay together.

• Rapscallions
• Vigilant
• Enders

Erin wrote:Here's my two cents. Maybe the ghosts don't exactly have goods. They can communicate with other dead beings or something along those lines, and in exchange, people allow them to... Feed off their spirit/emotions/soul? Like desperate people looking for answers or closure about a lost loved one. Not that the ghosts take too much. Just enough to keep them going.

Our story is a creepy ghost story in which a few friends notice that people have been disappearing in their town. This is because of two groups of ghosts: One group has been staying in the village and "lives" peacefully with the people in the village, and other that went away because they were really angry and bitter. Now the angry group is back and they've decided to sacrifice people from the village in order to free themselves from the curse. This will give mystery a high priority in our story: People just start disappearing and communication with the good ghosts is disrupted so they can't tell us anything. Also we can make it creepy by saying that the evil ghosts (Reapers?) have to brainwash people and get them to commit suicide.

Angie wrote:Are we sticking with Rapscallions then? I'm okay with it, I guess, but if anyone has read any of the Redwall books, (Lord Brocktree, primarily), then you probably know what I'm thinking of.
That, and just straight-up scallions, the vegetable.
I think I like Vigilant or Enders better. (Maybe I'm biased, but I'm liking Enders more and more

Raven wrote:How about the crew are some sort of a "mob" note the quotation marks,
that go around doing people's "dirty" work?
again, note quotation marks. It doesn't have to involve killing...
but anyways, how about they are in the tavern, discussing their next job...
ghosts could be involved, but they could be spirits who are threatened by a human force. The ghosts could be keepers of a treasure that they are trying to protect.

• If you're writing is awful. Post it. We insist! Not only does it let us know you care, but it makes us feel we belong (because secretly we all think our own writing stinks).
• Aim at posting a two-paragraph post once a week. That's really not too bad for an average RPG: We all have things we think we should be doing (but we decieve ourselves because what is more important in life than a pointless role-playing game on an internet forum that we don't know the purpose of?), so one post a week is fine. It's much better to progress slowly than not at all.
• If you can't keep up, tell us; and be honest. You know, it's not a crime to not feel like writing for a week--you don't even have to apologize for it. So whatever it is that's keeping you from posting, tell us the truth and we'll promise to kill you quickly and almost painlessly.
• If you fall behind, summarize briefly what your character was doing, (even if he/she just got distracted and wandered off to chase a cat while everyone else was fighting for their lives, that'll be a good thing to know when we go to re-write this).

Lon drummed his fingers impatiently on the dirty table. He was this close to just leaving the dark corner of the restaraunt but decided to wait a few more minutes. This information was important enough to wait for, he decided. He had been gathering information on a group called the Crimson. It was the kind of group that grown-ups scared their children with, and Lon hadn't believed in them since he was nine--Until two months ago, that is. That was a month after his father had been murdered and he had found out the man who had done it--and since been hanged for it--had worked for the Crimson. The man Lon was supposed to have met here tonight had told him he had lots of information about the Crimson. It had been Lon's first big break in his search for the truth about his father's murder, or so he had thought.
He stared absently at the table across the room that the young waitress was wiping down. It was the second time he'd seen her do it tonight and it was the same pattern she had used on all the other tables. Finally he stood up and headed for the door.
There was a shout from outside.

Ren was walking along completely minding her own business, completely ignoring everyone else in the crowded street, and completely ignoring the fact that it looked as if it might rain. She had just spent the afternoon shopping and as a result was loaded down with various bags and parcels. Although she knew she was in an area of town that her parents had forbid her to enter, she figured her parents would rather her home within a few hours of her curfew than hear that she went out of her way to avoid this disgusting little street. Her feet were killing her if she was honest with herself. She made a mental note not to wear six inch heels the next time she went shopping, but she also reminded herself that if her father hadn't been so irritating and let her use her usual carriage with her usual driver instead of walk. Mother would be furious with him when she found out, but Father seemed to think that she was "spoiled". Just because he had to live a "hard life" didn't mean she had to if she had the money to live otherwise.

She was nearly off the street and was doing such a good job at ignoring everyone and thing around her that she almost didn't notice the strange man blocking her way. Flashing him an indignant look she tried to step around him, but tripped over herself and found herself passing directly through the man's chest. Her newly bought items flung over the ground, she looked up at the man in time for him grin nastily and vanish before her eyes. That was when she began to scream.

Work, work, work. That seemed to be the sum total of his entire life these days, what with two jobs and all, Jimmy thought as he swept the floor. It wasn't the first time he had swept it today, or the second. People were always coming into the restaurant and dragging in dirt from the streets, and Mr. Hector Halipanas insisted on a clean floor.
"The tables, they eat off them anyway," Mr. Halipanas always said dismissively. "Just a quick wipe for those. But people always notice the floor, and that's gonna make them come back."
Jimmy thought Mr. Halipanas had a bit of a strange view on restaurant management. Which was probably why Mrs. Ida Halipanas ran the rest of it. They hadn't really needed Jimmy as an extra hand; money was running thin these days, and they couldn't afford it. But Ida was Jimmy's mother's third cousin once removed, and family always helped family. So Jimmy had taken on the restaurant job and was balancing it with the ghost-guiding he did every other night. It was a lot of work, but it helped to pay the rent on his family's house. Anything for family.
Jimmy was just working extra hard on a patch of ghost dirt (which was so hard to remove, since it wasn't quite solid and floated around for ages, but still solid enough so make the floor look dirty to Mr. Halipanas) when a sudden clatter came from outside, right near the front door, shortly followed by a scream.
He laid the broom against the nearest table and hurried to the door, bumping into a darkly-clothed man on the way out.
"Sorry," he said apolegetically, walking backwards for a few steps. "Very sorry about that, sir." Then he hurried out the door.

Lon was headed toward the door of the Halipanas' establishment when someone bumped into him from behind. Lon heard an embarrassed "Sorry," from behind him. A moment later a boy with reddish hair slipped past him. "Very sorry about that, sir." He reiterated.
"That's okay," Lon said, and smiled. The boy didn't seem to hear him, which wasn't suprising considering he and half the restaurant were moving outside to see what the commotion was.
By the time Lon got outside, there was a large crowd of people in the middle of the street. He decided to wait on the porch to see what would happen next. From there he could see a girl in the middle of the crowd shrieking hysterically, but most of what she said seemed intelligible. As Lon watched a gaudily dressed woman pushed through the crowd. She threw one end of her dead-animal-sized scarf over the girl's shoulder comfortingly.
"Just another visitor ghost-sighting," Lon heard a man at the edge of the crowd say.

Fern loved crowds. She could slip in and out of them with little problem, and always had some money for ale when she felt the need. A shriek had drawn a large crowd and her fingers were itching for a pocket. She waited, searching the throng for an easy target. What she saw nearly made her jump for joy. A wealthy looking woman was heading towards the center of the crowd. And Fern was right in her path. Fern bumped shoulders with the woman, managed a quick apology and began sneaking to the edge of the crowd.

With a sigh, Fern left the crowd and made her way towards a restaurant not far away. She took the coin purse she had taken from the wealthy woman and smirked at her expense. Fern would be drinking well tonight. A heavy hand on her shoulder held her back and she turned around, ready to fight off a possible threat. But she winced when she saw Lon standing behind her.

"I believe that belongs to the woman over there." He said, a slight frown on his face.

"Tell you what. Ale's on me tonight and we forget this happened." Fern said, backing away slowly. Before Lon could reply she ducked down and ran into a side street, laughing as she went. Now all she had to do was find a safe place to catch a few winks and she would be set. Fern came to a stop when she heard low voices coming from around the corner. She pressed herself against the wall and listened intently to a familiar voice...

"...but it's not fair! I'm always the one doing the dirty work! Give me a chance to train another girl and I promise she'll be just as capable for any task." Rita pounded the brick wall forcefully. A silky voice replied, " And what are the chances that this "apprentice" will be just as stealthy as you? Hm?" Rita sunk into the shadows so It wouldn't see the doubt written all over her face. " Within a year. Give me that much time and you'll have a new slave presto." She made sure to put the emphasis on "slave". Rita knew this wouldn't change Its mind but she had one more trump card. Vaguely, she could almost sense a hint of a smile on Its face. "Done. One year and no more." Without a moments reply, it lurked back into the shadows.

Rita let out a much needed sigh that had been building up in her for quite some time. A cool breeze kissed her face as she realized she was too tired to care if anyone was listening to that pertinent conversation. I'll let the girl go this time. Probably a low- life wanderer. Still, it was impressive how she used her backround to blend in, and how she lengthened her breathing so she thought I couldn't hear her. The tall red-haired gray- eyed girl stood up and walked purposely in the direction opposite to that of the eavesdropper. As she headed out of the alley she brushed past a busy, familiar looking man and stopped. Interesting... she thought. Then went about looking for a decent shelter to rest her aching body for the night. That other matter shall be dealt in time.

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