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| | ==Actual bits of writing== | | ==Actual bits of writing== |
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| − | ===yakuza in ruby's perspective, the demo version===
| + | * [[The Debt of Rhys ap Cadwgan]] |
| − | "Yup. He's following me. Fuckin'...dammit," Ruby whispered to herself. Shofukucho was already not the best part of town for women, let alone foreign women, and especially not women that stuck out as badly as she did. How she found herself here was not really the problem; it was how she was going to get back out, while also losing the tail. But judging from the way the road was blocked in front of her, this was looking less possible by the second.
| + | * [[the D-Bug]] |
| − | | + | * [[Ruby things]] |
| − | Before her stood two men in the loudest possible button shirts, had to be at least three heads taller than she was. The man on the left looked like he went to the gym twice a day, and used it exclusively as a means to get laid - his muscles looked threatening, but she knew they were built for form, not for function. The strain of a fight would sooner pull a muscle than stop any serious opposition. His bright orange shirt almost wasn't even buttoned - there was a such thing as showing too much chest, even for a man, Ruby thought - and his white slacks had probably been introduced to the pavement a few times too many to be called "white" anymore.
| + | * [[Genie thing]] |
| − | | + | * [[Mage detective thing]] |
| − | The other man, Ruby figured, might not have been as tall as his muscle-bound cohort, but probably weighed twice as much. His suit was maroon with gold trim around the cuffs, the jacket hanging wide open, and his shirt - buttoned to its physical limit - was a sickening, clashing shade of bright green. Still, Ruby had to at least (mentally) compliment him for somehow still being able to dress himself; no live-in assistant would dare let him out the door like that.
| + | * [[Rowan and the sphere]] |
| − | | + | * [[Office of Supernatural Affairs]] |
| − | Ruby pulled a quick heel-spin to ascertain the situation behind her. Sure enough, the lanky fellow from the sushi joint was back there. His tweedy getup at first reminded her of her first physics teacher, before she realized he was closer to the Japanese equivalent to Steve Buscemi - the misshapen face, sunken eyes perpetually stuck half-open and bloodshot to show for it. "Alright, you got me," Ruby declared.
| + | * [[Socialpunk]] |
| − | | + | * [[Yakuza 5, Summarized Sarcastically]] |
| − | ''Nice catch, Suda,'' said Fatso to Steve. ''We gonna take her to the labor people?''
| + | * [[Bass and the baby]] |
| − | | + | * [[RCPA briefing]] |
| − | ''Who says we gotta take her anywhere? She's an outta-towner, probably here 'cuz she thinks we're cuter than they got in America, heheh!'' Steve punctuated his horrible thoughts with an over-the-top pelvic thrust. Ruby figured he was only halfway there - Tadashii was more handsome than most of the guys at her old college, but these men were nothing at all like him.
| + | * [[Bass working for the paper]] |
| − | | + | * [[friendly card - zsc]] |
| − | Musclehead opened his mouth, but what came out wasn't in Japanese. He raised a threatening fist. "How are you? I am fine, thank you."
| + | * [[Garou ga Gotoku]] |
| − | | |
| − | Ruby badly stifled a laugh. That had to be not only the thickest accent she'd heard in years, but the worst possible phrase to say.
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| − | | |
| − | The meathead, meanwhile, noticed. ''Quit your damn giggling, woman! I tried!'' His flabbier cohort started laughing as well, earning a weak-looking punch to the shoulder.
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| − | | |
| − | ''Well, if you paid any attention in English class,'' began the Mr. Pink wannabe behind Ruby, ''maybe you'd know what you just said.''
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| − | | |
| − | ''And who says yer a damn linguist now?'' Mr. Bulk swung at the air.
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| − | | |
| − | Ruby had heard enough. She shrugged. ''Good grief,'' she said with a sigh. ''Clearly you wanted something from me, is that right?'' Were they not coming from a red-haired beanpole of a woman, the words wouldn't have sounded out of place coming from the foulest of yakuza.
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| − | | |
| − | ''D'you know where the fuck you are?'' said the sunken-eyed man. ''This street's owned by one of the biggest Omi families in Soten!''
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| − | | |
| − | ''Really? Thank you for giving me the tour, then,'' cracked Ruby. ''I wouldn't suppose you'd be willing to let me go, though?''
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| − | | |
| − | ''Not without seein' our boss,'' said the wide man. ''An' our boss? He don't like loudmouths.''
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| − | | |
| − | ''I see. Well that's too bad, then, because this mouth ain't gettin' any quieter.'' Ruby stood sideways, so as to keep an eye on both ends of the pincer she found herself in.
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| − | | |
| − | The built man leaned at that forward angle so typical of yakuza intimidation tactics. ''Normally we don't hit women, but seein' as it's this late out, and you're gettin' to pissin' us off...'' He cracked his knuckles and put up his dukes.
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| − | | |
| − | ''Don't fool yourself. If you're gonna fight, then fight!'' Ruby had already weighed the odds. Three was more people than she usually took on at once, but her heart was already in top gear, and all that she needed focus on were her fundamentals, and which direction the punches were coming from.
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| − | | |
| − | The fat man didn't wait for further encouragement. With a speed unusual for a man of his considerable girth (then again, even a bowling ball is aerodynamic), he took off forward, both arms crossed in front of him. Ruby took half a step backwards, leaving a foot in front, then as he whiffed past, she lifted the foot and pushed hard on top of his back. Fattie's face crashed right into the pavement.
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| − | | |
| − | ''You bitch!'' Not Steve Buscemi was the next up; he threw what Ruby could only call a "roundhouse punch" - a right hook so over-the-top that, if he'd missed, he'd have fallen over of his own accord. But that, to Ruby, wasn't nearly humiliating enough. A couple hands on the right spots, and Steve's punch was redirected into a lit sign that read, "SEXY PUB PRISON." The plexiglass sign shattered, and Steve's fist took not only the shards, but a hundred-some volts from the shattered light bulb beneath it. Steve was down for the count, right on top of the fat man, who had enough trouble getting back up as it was.
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| − | | |
| − | The muscle man had yet to even make a move from his stereotypical boxer's stance about 20 feet away from the dogpile. ''You're about to suck pavement, lady!'' he screamed as he ran full-bore at her. There was enough distance between them, Ruby figured...as soon as he was within range, Ruby executed a near-perfect reverse seoi-nage, exactly as Tadashii had taught her in their impromptu judo lessons a year ago. Beefcake landed flat on his back as Ruby's elbow landed on his stomach.
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| − | | |
| − | With all three down, but still very much considering getting back up, Ruby had little time to waste - now was her chance to put as much distance between them as possible. The initial surprise she'd given them would have since worn off; they'd be coming at her with all they had, if she were still there when they'd sorted themselves out. She gave the pile of downed thugs a quick mock-salute, then took off in a sprint towards the Bishamon Bridge.
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| − | | |
| − | She'd rounded a few more corners and vanished into a POPPO store before she dared turn around. Out of breath, she immediately made for the magazine rack and pretended to flip through a Shonen Jump as her wary eyes peeked out the window. The loud trio were nowhere to be seen. She carefully replaced the magazine, gathered up a couple of rice balls and an instant soba, paid for her goods, and walked out. "Thank you," she said in English.
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| − | | |
| − | Ruby's cell phone rang on the way out. She juggled the plastic bags into her other hand to reach it, spending no time to check the caller ID as she flipped it open. "Moshi-moshi, Tadashii Ruby desu."
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| − | | |
| − | "Ruby, it's me, your husband? Don't you ever look who's calling before you hit Talk?" Hiroya Tadashii, the man she'd fallen in love with back in college, spoke English as well as Ruby spoke Japanese. "Anyway, I just got out of my meeting. How are you holding up?"
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| − | | |
| − | "Hell of a night so far, but nothing I can't handle. I, uh, oughta thank you for those sparring sessions, by the way."
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| − | | |
| − | "Did you get in a fight?" There was a note of concern in his voice.
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| − | | |
| − | "A few lunkheads over in Shofukucho. Said something about being in one of the Omi families, but I didn't see badges."
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| − | | |
| − | "Probably faking," Hiroya sighed. "There's been a rash of people lately who think they can get anything they want by pretending they're from some second-tier family."
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| − | | |
| − | "Lemme guess, that's what your meeting was about?"
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| − | | |
| − | "Maybe I'm remembering wrong, but I thought I asked you to stay out of my business."
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| − | | |
| − | "But you still care enough about me that you taught me to defend myself."
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| − | | |
| − | Another sigh came through the phone. "You know what, Ruby, I'd rather talk about this at home. Are you near the apartment?"
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| − | | |
| − | "I'm on...uh..." She glanced around - the Bishamon was one way, the Grand was the other. "Sotenbori...avenue? Just walked out of a convenience store."
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| − | | |
| − | "Alright, alright. Uh, don't cross the bridges until I meet up with you, okay? Let's meet by that game center and we'll walk home together. That way if those...lunch heads?...see you again, I'll be there to help."
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| − | | |
| − | "Sure thing. See ya soon, hubby."
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| − | | |
| − | "You too, uh...wifey?"
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| − | | |
| − | "You'll get this figured out yet." She was grinning hard enough that her face was starting to hurt. "Bye."
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| − | | |
| − | ===ruby thing pt.1===
| |
| − | "Aw, fuck, I did it again. Sorry." She takes her hand off my knee. "This is what happens when I get too comfortable..."
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| − | | |
| − | "No, no, it's fine, really. I liked it." I'm not sure she believes me. "What's wrong?"
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| − | | |
| − | "I killed the mood again. I got...nostalgic, I guess."
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| − | | |
| − | "For Rick?"
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| − | | |
| − | "I don't know." She knew. "I just...I want to do well by the people I like. You know?"
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| − | | |
| − | "You didn't breach a layer of trust or anything. I was just confused, I guess. Nobody does the hand-on-the-knee thing to me."
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| − | | |
| − | "...You serious? God, guy like you, I'd think you'd have no problems at all."
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| − | | |
| − | "You know how I operate. It doesn't get chicks."
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| − | | |
| − | "You have one of those faces, though, y'know? The kind that'd be handsome if it were just...attached to anybody else."
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| − | | |
| − | "Oh. Thanks."
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| − | | |
| − | "Look, I'm not good at...words. You know that."
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| − | | |
| − | "Don't deny yourself. You work at a newspaper. You wouldn't be an associate editor if you weren't good at words."
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| − | | |
| − | "I mean, that's fair, but...I have white-out at work. You can't white-out something you've said."
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| − | | |
| − | "Maybe that's what makes talking to you so damn interesting. I get the real, unfiltered you, unedited, unrevised. The first thing to your mind is the thing you say. You don't spend hours revising and changing it first."
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| − | | |
| − | "...Y'know, Bass, I don't think you really grasp it."
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| − | | |
| − | "Grasp what?"
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| − | | |
| − | "I don't...look, this isn't easy. The revising and shit? THat still happens, it just happens in my head, really fast, and I don't get to write it down first. You ever try to do math in your head? It's kinda like that."
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| − | | |
| − | "...I guess."
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| − | | |
| − | "So don't go...fooling yourself...or whatever."
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| − | | |
| − | ===ruby thing pt.2: the fashioning===
| |
| − | Ruby's manner of dress:
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| − | | |
| − | 1. Tank tops. Always has one on, because she's more comfortable using that for support than a bra, half the time.
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| − | | |
| − | 2. The white blouse she wears is a men's small long-sleeved shirt. She prefers neutral colors; white works best, light grey works better.
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| − | | |
| − | 3. The vest is also a men's vest; she doesn't like the snug fit of vests meant for women. The overall effect is that her top looks a little baggy, but not by much. It's not flattering to her form, but she doesn't have a lot of form to begin with.
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| − | | |
| − | 3. Her slacks are women's slacks; she prefers browns and tans for that. Never pressed, because she wears them all the time anyway.
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| − | | |
| − | 4. Socks: Ankle socks, generally black. Buys them in bulk and uses them for everything. Has a hell of a time getting the black marks off her feet in the shower.
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| − | | |
| − | 5. Shoes: Loafers. She can't stand heels, and sneakers aren't professional enough. Loafers work because they work almost eerywhere. Such is the motivation behind most of her outfit, really. | |
| − | | |
| − | 6. Hair: Low-maintenance. She'd cut it short if she thought she could get away with it; she usually has it loosely pony-tailed because a tighter tail hurts her head and she's never been that great at hair tying.
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| − | 7. Hat: Dark brown argyle cnap-brim hat. Technically a man's hat, but it fits her just fine. It used to be Rick's, but he gave it to her as a keepsake not long before they cut all contact. It's kind of amazing that she keeps it despite not acknowledging that they broke their elationship on good terms, but it's the only hat she really owns, and it's nice for the rainier days (which is 75% of the year in the Pacific Southeast).
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| − | | |
| − | ?. Overwear: The nicest article of clothing she owns is a grey wool pea coat. It's very slightly tight on her, but it works.
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| − | | |
| − | ===genie thing===
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| − | "What is it that you desire? Tell me." The visage of the great Genie loomed almost a hundred feet above him. By most rights, she wouldn't have fit. Fortunately, Alvin was standing on the roof of one of the tallest apartment high-rises in the city.
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| − | | |
| − | Alvin stammered trying to think of anything to say. "I...uh...come again?"
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| − | | |
| − | "Perhaps I misspoke. You have desires, yes? Tell them to me and I shall grant them."
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| − | | |
| − | "Well, it's just that...I feel like you're putting me on the spot. I can't just think of a great thing I want and tell you right away, these things need a lot of prior planning and careful wording. To say nothing of what restrictions and terms apply."
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| − | | |
| − | The Genie folded her arms, placing one hand to her cheek. "The world today, I swear."
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| − | | |
| − | "I'm sorry?"
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| − | | |
| − | "The last time I was released from my lamp...I'm terribly sorry, what year is it?"
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| − | | |
| − | "Two thousand eighteen," replied Alvin, having had to think about it a moment.
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| − | | |
| − | "It would have been fifteen-hundred years ago. People didn't tend to think things through nearly as carefully, and they were more up-front about what they wanted."
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| − | | |
| − | "But how many actually got what they wanted?" Alvin didn't intend his question to be so biting, but he couldn't contain the curiosity.
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| − | | |
| − | "To tell the truth, not many. But that might be more because they hadn't spoken clearly enough, or perhaps it'd be because my competition had so sullied the profession that nobody was willing to trust me with anything more important."
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| − | | |
| − | "Profession? I thought you genies were considered slaves."
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| − | | |
| − | "Slaves to the lamp, perhaps. Even I couldn't tell you why. But it does come with benefits. Room and board are all spoken for, primarily, and the costume really does breathe well during the summer months." She playfully brushed a hand down one of the silk sleeves.
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| − | | |
| − | ===rick ruby thing===
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| − | Rick looked as if he wanted to say something. I guess he was waiting to see what Ruby did first. All I could really do was watch. It was a bit like...introducing two cats to each other, really. On a good day, they'd just sniff and be cautious. If you're not lucky, you get hissing and clawing. I'd hoped it'd be the former.
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| − | | |
| − | Ruby was the first to talk. "Rick. I, uh, have things I gotta say to you." I've never known Ruby to be this careful with her words.
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| − | | |
| − | "I think I do too, but you prob'ly better go first."
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| − | | |
| − | "Was hoping you'd say that. If I know you like I think I used to, you're probably wondering which version to give me, depending on how I make my approach. Right?"
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| − | | |
| − | "Yeah."
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| − | | |
| − | "Well, this oughta make it easier on you. I'm sorry."
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| − | | |
| − | "You're sorry? ...Wait, huh? I didn't plan for that..."
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| − | | |
| − | "Or...maybe I just made it way harder for you. Damn it." She takes off the snap-brim hat. "Y'know, I've had a dam long time to mull over the way our relationship turned out. Who was at fault, or even IF anybody was. All I can really figure is that it doesn't matter who did what or even anything at all. I just want to give you a damn apology."
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| − | | |
| − | "What are you even apologizing for? I was the asshole back then. It oughta be me."
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| − | | |
| − | "And I'm not sayin' it can't be you who says he's sorry. I just...I feel like I was definitely not as innocent as I wanted to feel like, y'know?" Ruby scratches the back of her neck with her free hand. "Whatever you're guilty of, I went right along with it. And whether that's from me being young and gullible or if I just had a void I needed filling...and I know what joke you're wanting to make, so just get it out of your system."
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| − | | |
| − | "I kinda don't want to now that you've said that." Rick's eyes are wide open for once. I don't usually see him NOT squinting.
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| − | | |
| − | "Dammit, you're the one that was always going on about shooting blanks..."
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| − | | |
| − | "I know, Ruby, but I also know now's not the time."
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| − | | |
| − | "...I'm sorry. I never seem to remember you have a serious side." She sniffs a bit. "Maybe that's where I fucked up."
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| − | | |
| − | "Nah, going by your logic, it was both of us. Remember the time we got caught by that beat cop?"
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| − | | |
| − | "Seem to remember it was your idea to park there."
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| − | | |
| − | "Yeah, yeah, my idea entirely..." He barely holds in a chuckle. "Y'know, we had some great times. What happened to that?"
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| − | | |
| − | "I think that's exactly why I wanted to come apologize to you, Rick. I'm the reason that those times stopped. I got selfish."
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| − | | |
| − | "No, the Ruby I know was *always* selfish. This wasn't selfishness. This was you trying to be responsible for yourself."
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| − | | |
| − | "I think you might be right. But I do still think I was the one that fucked up."
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| − | | |
| − | "No, we both did. But y'know, even after you quit seeing me, that didn't mean I wasn't still rootin' for you."
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| − | | |
| − | "How's that?"
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| − | | |
| − | "A few well-placed favors here and there, a few elements at play, a bit of careful reconnaissance..."
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| − | | |
| − | "You've been spying on me?"
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| − | | |
| − | "Nah, not as such. I just know a few people in a few places, just by happenstance. Principal among them of course is this guy right here." Rick points right at me. "On that note, how ya doin', Bass?"
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| − | | |
| − | "Bass, you're spying on me?"
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| − | | |
| − | "No no no, Ruby, not spying," Rick bounces back. "More like...you know that taxi cab guru thing you said about me?"
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| − | | |
| − | "Huh. I always wondered if you kept doing that."
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| − | | |
| − | "He's been askin' for advice here and there. It's uh, I don't think he ever mentioned your name. Just talked about you. Kinda vague but I knew it was you."
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| − | | |
| − | I felt a bit less on-the-spot now. I had a feeling Rick was a guy I could trust, and even though he did just blow my cover, he somehow did it in a way that...made me look better than I really was?
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| − | | |
| − | Ruby, meanwhile, was giving me that confused look. Like she couldn't quite tell if I could be trusted. "Come to think of it, I always wondered if you were really acting on your own whims. Some of the shit you were doing for me at the office was, well, pretty Rick-like."
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| − | | |
| − | "I dunno what you're talking about." I pleaded the fifth.
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| − | | |
| − | ===mage detective thing===
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| − | "Oy, are you done yet? I got a bloody watch to get back to and I ain't as like to let a whelp of a spellbeggar like yourself to keep me from it." The Guardsman never once let his gaze wander from the robed man in the room. There was just no trusting a mage like that, he'd said before, but it was Guard Captain Montag's insistence that kept them here to start with. "There's naught to find, no matter how you search," he added.
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| − | | |
| − | "I'll thank you to stay quiet while I'm working," said Randulf. There was a peculiar...vibration, he supposed, coming from the back corner of this improvised hovel. It'd been a storehouse for a nearby tavern, but nothing tavern-related had been stored here for the last year. The room had been filled with everything from withered saplings to slightly pretty rocks (pretty, but not valuable). The victim, not sprawled in typical corpse-like fashion but seemingly already laid out as if in a coffin, was right in front of the only door. Yet, some kind of energy was coming from the opposite end of the building, from the inside of a crate that the victim had been sleeping in. The victim's own life force, perhaps? No, the victim is dead, Randulf told himself. If this is anybody's life force, it's more likely to be someone else's.
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| − | | |
| − | "You found something? Or are you making that face 'cause you're coming up with a good story for the Captain?" The Guardsman's eyes were largely hidden behind the visor of his helmet - the only proper armor the city's guards tended to have - but Randulf could tell he must have been rolling them impatiently. "Come on, then, you spent enough time in this rat hole. Let's get you back to the Captain so I can go watch someone who's like to actually do something."
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| − | | |
| − | "If that's the way you feel, Guardsman, I expect you won't be likely to listen the next time I tell you I've caught you a murderer." Randulf rolled up the sleeves of his robe, revealing the tattoo-like markings up his forearms. "No, I've found a curious energy here. The victim, there, you've already checked that he's dead, yes?" The Guardsman only nodded in reply. "What I find curious, though...usually the recently departed leave some shred of their life force behind, close by their mortal form. It's how High Priests and Chosen are able to revive fallen comrades."
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| − | | |
| − | "That never sat well with me," the Guardsman said.
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| − | | |
| − | "Yes, I gathered you weren't a particularly spiritual type." Randulf swept his tattooed arms slowly about the empty crate, as if to feel something that wasn't there. "But no. Whoever murdered the man over there--" Randulf gestured towards the corpse with his head, as his arms were busy-- "either did it long enough ago that his spirit has already departed this plane, or more likely, was so thorough as to kill his spirit as well as his body." Randulf's right arm stopped, as if being pulled to that specific point in space. "Hmph. This is interesting."
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| − | | |
| − | "What's interesting? It sure ain't interesting ME!"
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| − | | |
| − | "To be fair, Guardsman, you don't seem to be interested in much beyond hitting things with truncheons." He focused as hard as he could on that specific spot. "It's as I thought a moment ago. This is someone ELSE'S spirit. Someone who isn't in this room."
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| − | | |
| − | "Eh?"
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| − | | |
| − | "I didn't think I'd be so likely to see it used in a murder...body-swapping is difficult magic at best. But our victim - if he even IS a victim - isn't the owner of this spirit. Which means, barring usage of soul-vessels or the like, we've got this spirit's body walking around with the dead body's spirit inside it. Someone's either very confused, or trying to fake their own death."
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| − | | |
| − | "Well, tell it to the Captain. You done now?"
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| − | | |
| − | "As done as I can be, I fear." Randulf wrested his arm away from its strange pulling sensation and unrolled his sleeves. He scrawled a quick note in his tome and nodded to his accompaniment. "I'd best make my report. If Captain Montag is as receptive as you've been, I doubt that'll take long."
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| | | | |
| | ==Ideas and general spitballing== | | ==Ideas and general spitballing== |
| Line 294: |
Line 55: |
| | [23:09:23] <ContraVania> It's a very good "this is why life blows" story. lol | | [23:09:23] <ContraVania> It's a very good "this is why life blows" story. lol |
| | </pre> | | </pre> |
| | + | |
| | + | * [[To paste into TVR later]] |
Okay. So, currently the way zdoom weapons are handled, the animation and the action functions are extremely tightly coupled to each other. This creates a mess and plays hell with things like changing the rate of fire on anything. So here's an alternate proposal:
You are a new Lord of the realm. Your station is not especially high; your influence only affects ordinary citizens, and you still answer to the other Lords, the Senate, and the King, but you have influence nonetheless. The one catch: your legs have never worked. Whether through birth defect, disease, or childhood injury, you cannot go anywhere under your own power. In order to travel places, you need the assistance of your entourage. While this means you are protected everywhere you go, the entourage does not come cheap, and requires enough planning in advance that you can only realistically leave the castle once a day. At night, you may choose a study topic out of your library, increasing the skill of your choice by one point (or more). Skills influence available dialogue choices, a la New Vegas.
