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Spirited Away


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[size=2][QUOTE] I'm going to go run through the halls of my old high school. Do you want to come?[/QUOTE] [/size]
[size=2]I've been toying with this idea for a few days now. It occurred to me that I see so many sci-fi RPGs in here, and so many fantasy ones, too, but rarely does a comedy surface. I thought to myself, well, why don't we see too many comedies here?[/size]
[size=2]So, I began formulating a comedy RPG grounded in high school reality. Call it Minimalism, if you will. [/size][size=2]The plot of this RPG is fairly simple in basis: we enter the school on the Monday of Spirit Week. Spirit Week, for those unaware, is simply a week in November during which the individual classes compete for some Spirit Stick. Each day has a specific theme (Hawaiian Day, Costume Day, Color Day, etc), and Friday is a Pep Rally/Physical Games. The physical games include pudding-eating contests, tricycle races, blind football passes...some really ridiculous stuff.[/size]
[size=2]I'm looking at accepting about five to eight writers here, each creating their own character. The RPG would span five days (Spirit Week) in the high school, with each character giving their own narrative throughout each day. I'm looking at each character's narrative would be for three periods. Each day would have a total of eight periods. I designed it this way to minimize the amount of posting. Too many posts would clutter it.[/size]
[size=2]For the sign-ups, I don't want the outline stuff. That's not conducive to literary analyzation. For each sign-up, I'd like your name at the top left and character name underneath that. I'd rather not have a character description or biography.[/size]
[size=2]Instead, tell me a story about a funny or interesting high school experience. It doesn't have to be true, but don't make it outrageous. For an example of what I'm looking for, you can check out Sara's MyOtaku, specifically, her Blood Drive entry.[/size]
[size=2]If I see that you're able to handle the mature comedic tone that I'm looking for, I'll drop you a line through PM or AIM and give you further instructions on your character. I'm not limiting what characters are created, but I don't want to see...say...Not Another Teen Comedy.[/size]
[size=2]Actually, another guideline. Please, no gross-out teen comedy. I don't want somebody trying to emulate American Pie. While the Pie Trilogy is a very smart and sharp series, I want people to develop their own comedic voice.[/size]
[size=2]I'd want to keep things flowing correctly, so I figure I'd play the Principal or an Admin in the school, who gives the day's announcements over the PA in the morning. That way, I could keep the story focused, but still give freedom in what the students are going to do.[/size]
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[/color][/size][/font][font=Verdana][size=2][color=darkred]Cassandra stared at the clock on the wall, hoping that it would magically materialize so that she could kill it. If she hadn?t been so superbly sucky at math, she would?ve counted how many seconds of her time that had been wasted, staring at it for nearly 5 minutes now.

[/color][/size][/font][font=Verdana][size=2][color=darkred]Keeping that gaze of boredom, she shifted from the clock to the teacher, Mr Rygowsky, catching the last fragment of an overkill speech about the importance of not mixing your y?s with your x?s.

[/color][/size][/font][font=Verdana][size=2][color=darkred]?[i]Hehe, he got that right. You should always keep them separated[/i]?, she giggled quietly to herself.

[/color][/size][/font][font=Verdana][size=2][color=darkred]Apparently it wasn?t quiet enough, since he gave her an odd look before slicking his well groomed hair back and closing his class with one of his infamous one-liner. The kind that?s not even funny enough to sell to Reader?s Digest.

[/color][/size][/font][font=Verdana][size=2][color=darkred]Burying her head in the large pillow she made in arts and crafts earlier that morning, she groaned into it ?[i]find a happy place, find a happy place[/i]?. Luckily it got drowned out by the sound of the bell ringing.

[/color][/size][/font][font=Verdana][size=2][color=darkred]Jumping to her feet, with a smile as silly as ?well, herself, she looked down at Mark and noticed he was looking at her intently. He grinned slyly and winked, holding up his own newly crafted pillow (which looked inferior to hers, she quickly noted).

[/color][/size][/font][font=Verdana][size=2][color=darkred]Oh yes, she was definitely going to let him have a piece of her ? superior skills with handling a weapon as lethal as a pillow.

[/color][/size][/font][font=Verdana][size=2][color=darkred]The rest of the class scuffled about the classroom and she lost sight of Mark, which was perfectly fine. That meant she could go stealth mode on him. Because everyone knows you can?t have a decent fight without some proper stalking first.

[/color][/size][/font][font=Verdana][size=2][color=darkred]She threw her backpack over her shoulder and hunched over, sneaking down to the front row seats. Mark had been smart enough to claim the seat on the far left corner (or right, depending on where you were standing), knowing full well that the old Math teacher only focused on those in the back, who has been foolish enough to believe that those in the front row would get all the attention.

[/color][/size][/font][font=Verdana][size=2][color=darkred]Looking past someone?s waist, she caught a glimpse of Mark standing not more than a couple steps of away. He was talking to ? she couldn?t make out who it was, but it mattered little. The main thing was that he didn?t expect an attack at this point. Life is good to you sometimes.

[/color][/size][/font][font=Verdana][size=2][color=darkred]She stayed down for a couple of seconds, taking in the sweet victory in advance, before readying the pillow and lunging out from her hiding spot. Swinging the pillow with all her might, she howled her war cry:

[/color][/size][/font][font=Verdana][size=2][color=darkred]" [i]COWABUNGA !![/i] "

[/color][/size][/font][font=Verdana][size=2][color=darkred]The sound of dense fabric thwapping human skull was sweet music in her ears. She had swung the pillow so explosively, that for a moment she lost balance and tumbled to her feet. The embarrassment of publicly falling on her *** would be outweighed by the dumbfounded look on Marks face though, she thought giddily. This would make up for all the times he tricked her to slip up and make a fool of herself.

[/color][/size][/font][font=Verdana][size=2][color=darkred]Putting on her sweetest smile, she raised her head and found herself staring into the unimpressed eyes of Mr Rygowsky, whose hair was remarkably ruffled?..

[/color][/size][/font][font=Verdana][size=2][color=darkred]The deadly silence that had ensued after the echoing thwap, was shattered as Mark burst out in one of his infamously loud laughter fits. She glared at him as he gathered his books and stumbled backwards out of the classroom, holding his stomach and gasping for breath between the fits.

[/color][/size][/font][font=Verdana][size=2][color=darkred]Mr Rygowsky composed himself and walked over to his cluttered desk, declaring her impending doom:

[/color][/size][/font][font=Verdana][size=2][color=darkred]?[i]I do believe I shall see you in detention, Miss Grey. I am most certain we will have a very fruitful conversation about the consequences of miscalculation.[/i]?.[/color][/size][/font]
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"I sometimes cut myself when things get like this...." [i]She looked up, hair falling back over her ears again. Sometimes she wondered if it was time to get it cut. Her ex boyfriend was talking to her again.[/i]

"What are you going to do when we have a revolution?" [i]Her sarcasm could've withered a flower, but instead she decided to blast him with it. He regarded her. Unable to see why he ever had fallen in love with her, but able to see exactly why he had fallen out of love with her. The man who didn't look into mirrors, thought he had been reincarnated several times, and had some sort of special punishment to bear in this life. So far, Sevirum saw his time loving her, as some damn good punishment right off the bat.[/i]

"I listen to Kittie when I cut."

"Congratulations." [i]She sat on the banister, and slid down the slick metallic surface, landing on the ground in front of him. Her hands rested on ample hips, her army style boots tapped the concrete, slightly impatient.[/i]

"I don't know why I wasted time talking to you today Ronnie. You never answer me, you never understand, all you do is go in circles. I hope you cut yourself far to deep one day." [i]With that, her eyes closed and she turned away from him. Then she walked down the hall. It had been so long since she had been embraced by him. It was embarassing. Why she had wasted her stupid life loving him, she would never know. It wasn't fair. She was mad. In her ears, a dull ringing caught her attention. Easy to fix. With one hand she reached into her backpack, then flicked the power switch on her iPod. Instantly she was washed clean. Korn. Angry music. Good for the soul.[/i]

"Can't control myself, I ******* hate you." [i]Oh the ineffable holiness of small things. Like mp3 players. Sevirum turned a corner and didn't look back. She wanted to forget that there was a boy named Ronnie that had held her in his arms, told her that he would love her forever, and slept with her so tenderly.[/i]

[i]Liana Lopes, Hawaiian Mexican party girl turned badass, leaned in during the next period of the day. Art. She hated art. Sevirum liked it last time she checked.....but something was tugging at her sanity.[/i]

"Saw you storming away from that ugly ************ today."

"No ****. Did I look like a jilted lover or something?" [i]Liana's laughter shook her up, then left her smiling slightly.[/i]

"You looked like a badass." [i]Sevirum raised an eyebrow, then she laughed.[/i]

"And what would you know about badasses? Last time I checked you were a party girl."

"Well, I can be both. .....I talked with Jason last night. He's leaving too." [i]She pronounced it "Ja SOON," something Sevirum could never understand.[/i]

"He's crazy. You're better off without him. That and I'm on my rag and I don't want to even think about another boy. Give me a ******* MAN." [i]Liana rolled her eyes.[/i]

"Didn't I say the same damn thing about Ronnie? He ain't no Man. He's a loser." [i]Sevirum didn't dignify that with a response, even if she was right. Instead she began drawing again. Something that reminded her of him, but in a beautiful way. A female covered in spiders, naked to the waist, pressing her hand against his chest. "His" meaning the symbol of her ex boyfriend. Something desperately oiut of place. A drider. Torso and face of a man, but the body of a spider. Something mutated. Like the way she had felt for him, but never realized how bad he was for her. She knew that in the next drawing, she would be ripping his heart out. A male with no prayer for deliverance. Being savaged by a female that looked like a succubus. Sevirum drew these, to keep herself from actually ripping the heart of her ex out. The art teacher recognized her feelings for what they were, and cut a wide path around her. Angsty teens. Bad news. Especially when one of them was obsessed with what he deemd to be Demonology.

The other art teacher... .....the perverted one, picked it up, examined it, then casually asked her out on a date.[/i]

"What sort of date?" She was smiling again, but this time she was blushing too.

"The kind where I show you my place, I feed you dinner, and then we have a nude photography session." [i]Sevirum grinned at him, then looked down into the desk one more time. Then she looked up. And winked. Someone could see past her black bondage pants, her zippered wife beater and black makeup. The gothic girl that had a bittersweet life and a penchant for the esoteric. ....oh well.[/i][/COLOR]
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Charlie stepped out of the classroom, totally bored. He had cruised through another day of school. Another day of little to no effort, of looking ahead to what was coming after school. He walked down the hall, past the endless stream of lockers, and passed by one of his best friends, Peter.

"What's up?" Peter asked.

"Heading over to Steve's house," Charlie answered. "Got some practice to do."

"You don't do anything [i]but[/i] practice anymore," Peter said. "When are you guys actually going to make your own music?"

"Hey, you have to start somewhere," Charlie retorted. Charlie was the lead singer of a Pixies cover band that he dubbed Motorway to Roswell, after his favorite Pixies song.

"I guess that's true," Peter said. "And at least you're playing better music than all of the other bands around here, even if it's not your own."

"Har har," Charlie replied sarcastically. "How about giving me a ride to Steve's house? Then, maybe you could hear some [i]real[/i] music."

"Sure, why not?" Peter said, not really a question. "I've got nothing else to do with my time." Peter and Charlie walked out of the school and shielded themselves momentarily from the bright glare of the sun. It was another extremely hot day, as usual. Charlie took a moment to remind himself to thank Steve for having an air conditioner. Charlie and Peter approached Peter's car and Peter unlocked the door and climbed inside. Charlie climbed into the passenger seat and they both buckled up their seat belts.

"Ready?" Peter asked.

"Ready," Charlie replied. Peter started up the car, which replied with a loud sputter.

"Christ, what the hell is wrong with this thing?" Peter said, his voice thick with irritability. He began to pound hard on the steering wheel, sounding off the horn several times in a row.

"Crap," Charlile said simply. Peter sighed heavily.

"Damn thing's been pretty unreliable lately," he said. "I'll have to take it into the shop sometime."

"Right," Charlie said. "In the meantime, how are we going to get to Steve's house?"

"We'll have to walk, I guess," Peter replied.

"I was hoping you wouldn't say that," Charlie said. "It's hot as hell outside."

"Do you have a better idea?" Peter asked. Charlie frowned, mostly because he [i]didn't[/i] have a better idea. He and Peter unbuckled their seat belts, climbed out of the car and began the slow march through the heat to Steve's house.


Heh, hope that's good enough ^_^;
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[font=Georgia][color=#0000ff]"Test, TEST, [b]TEST[/b]... Stay focused, c'mon, just stay focused for one measly hour. Ok, the skeletal muscles can only contract, not relax, and that's why those muscles have complementary ones. Heh, my tricep itches. That means I'll need to contract my bicep to scratch it. That's it... Yeah, I don't know why it was itching. Maybe it was because I used too much soap this morning? Or was it too little?"[/color][/font]

[font=Georgia][color=#0000ff]"What am I doing?! The test, the test! Ok, what was I thinking? Something about muscles. Yeah, and the biceps and triceps being complementary. Maybe I should use another example? The teacher used that example too many times during lecture. I don't want to regurgitate everything he says. I definately don't want to sound like this geezer. Haha, that was so embarrassing when he started yelling, 'the body is a terrible thing to waste.' That's as bad as my history teacher's 'brain fart' comment..."[/color][/font]

[font=Georgia][color=#0000ff]This mental cycle continued until the teacher called an end to the examination. "Alright, time's up. Hand in your exam before I leave the room."[/color][/font]

[font=Georgia][color=#0000ff]"Doh!" thought Arden. "Why do I always do this? I'm so screwed... [/color][/font][font=Georgia][color=#0000ff]Well, whatever the grade, it would be better than not handing in the test at all. I could only imagine what a zero would do. Oh wait! Professor!"[/color][/font]

[font=Georgia][color=#0000ff]Arden rushed to stop the professor at the door and handed his paper in. The professor gave him a condescending "I have no hope in you" look and accepted Arden's test.[/color][/font]

[font=Georgia][color=#0000ff]True to his prophecy, Arden's grade reflected his attention span: low, and dangerous in the long run. "Oh man," thought Arden, "I should seek some counsel about my current dilemma. Maybe I should make something up, like I'm very stressed these days because my great aunt died? Would they background check that? Hey, this school is notorious for not keeping with their paperwork. Hmm..."[/color][/font]

[font=Georgia][color=#0000ff]"How's the food?" Arden's friend asked. "You are eating it like it's actually good."[/color][/font]

[font=Georgia][color=#0000ff]"Huh?" Arden realized he was munching away mindlessly at what was probably the worst combination of pizza and toppings ever. "Oh god! I think I'm going to throw-up!"[/color][/font]
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Lou Lennox

"Go to the principal's office, Mr. Lennox and take this with you." Mr. Owens whispered into Lou's ear as he handed him a note. His tone indicated he was in trouble.

"What'd I do?" Lou asked in his normal defiant tone but the teacher had already retreated to his desk. So, he walked to the door with loud stamping strides while whistling, making sure everyone knew that he was leaving. He opened the overly-squeaky door and closed it with a resounding crash.

"Do teachers really think that we don't read these notes?" Lou asked himself as he pryed apart the post-it note's glue side.

[i]Made death threat toward another student.[/i] the note read.

"You have GOT to be s***ting me!" echoed off of the cold metal lockers as Lou crumpled the note in an angry fist. He walked back into the class and threw the wad of paper onto Mr. Owens' desk. "What the hell is this??" All of the students were now looking away from the girl reading her essay aloud, over to Lou and Mr. Owens.

"Just go to the office and I will be there in a minute." the teacher tried to keep the tone of the conversation low.

"You're damn straight you will be." Lou stormed out of the class fuming.

He was now walking to the office with intense hatred toward any type of authority. He flopped down on the uncomfortable chairs in front of the sunny secretary's desk.

"Can I help you Mr. Lennox?" asked Ms. Winter the secretary.

"Mr Owen's said he'll be here in a minute." he told her.

'[i]Why does everybody always call me Mr. Lennox? MY NAME'S LOUIS, GODDAMNIT!!"[/i] he thought to himself.

Mr. Owens came in several minutes later with a scowl toward Lou. "Wilbur," Mr. Bruno the principal called across the room, "what's going on with Mr. Lennox?"

[i]'Oh, they can call each other by their first name. But they can't get mine right.'[/i]

"I think we should talk in your office." they all shuffled through the door. A few moments passed when the words "OH FOR GOD'S SAKE!!" rattled the windows outside the office.

"I watched 'Mission: Impssible' last night and I couldn't get the damn-"

"Hey, watch your mouth." Mr. Bruno snapped. Lou looked at him for a second and continued.

"And I couldn't get the [i]stupid[/i] song out of my head." he said with a note of sarcasm.

"So you thought it necessary to try and kill your fellow classmate?" Mr. Owens accused.

"I made my hand into an L-shape and moved my thumb up and down." Lou explained. "That hardly constitutes attempted murder."

"But you aimed it at another student." Mr. Owens interrupted Mr. Bruno who was about to ask a question.

"This is bull****."

"HEY, I said 'watch your mouth.'." Mr Bruno caught an opportunity to speak. "It sounds like we have a serious problem here."

"You've got to be kidding me." Lou said in a sigh of frustration. "The kid you're talking about..."

"Yes?" Mr. Bruno inquired.

"He's my best friend." Lou revealed. "HE thought it was funny, for Christ's sake."

"Hmmm, I see." he thought for a moment. "One week's detention should set you straight."

"But I didn't do anything." He protested.

"Maybe nothing serious. But, you did just curse three times in my presence." Bruno told, "I think this should be enough." Mr. Owens didn't seem satisifed. But, Lou was just thankful that he hadn't gotten expelled.

Mr. Owens huffed off in just as bad of a mood Lou had been in when he had first come to the office. [/color]

BTW: Based on a true story that happened to me. [/b][/size]
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  • 4 weeks later...
I'd like to post here for a quick second and let everyone know that I'm very impressed with the sign-ups so far, especially Cassandra and Anne. I regret others not signing-up for this, though; I would have loved for at least 10 sign-ups. I'm going to hold-off on starting up the RPG, in the hopes that others will want to apply.

Again, the tone in these entries is exactly what I'm looking for, and if not exactly, then very, very close.

Anyone who does want to enter this RPG, please pay special attention to what has been done already, as they are very useful guides.

[b][u]IMPORTANT NOTE:[/u][/b] I have decided to change the posts per day from three to [b]two[/b]. This will further reduce the possibility for clutter, and make for an easier organization of postings. Each character's first post of the school day will be for the morning classes (Periods 1-4), a break for Lunch, during which time I will make an announcement over the PA, and then the second group of posts will be for the afternoon classes (Periods 6-8).
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[size=1]On most girls the flippy little skirt and knee-high boots that Melanie was wearing would've looked trashy. On Melanie, they looked ... well, they still looked pretty trashy, but she wore them with the air of the only girl in school who could pull it off without getting sent home for being a whore.

[i]Though not without a few incidents[/i], Melanie thought grimly to herself as they passed Mr. Belman, who eyed the skirt and cleared his throat loudly.

"Melanie Stones, may I see you in my classroom for a second?"

Melanie sighed a second before she turned around, and the other two -- that's how she always thought of them, "the other two" who-were-with-her-every-second-and-were-undoubtedly-her-incredibly-stupid-best-friends-and-lackeys -- giggled behind their hands. "Uh-oh, Melanie, somebody's skirt is more than three inches above the knee," Brenda said, referring to their student dress code.

"When is my skirt [i]not[/i] more than three inches above the knee?" Melanie said under her breath to them, getting another giggle before she strode into Mr. Belman's room.

Flicking through her mind to her imaginary files on each of the teachers, she remembered that Mr. Belman was an idiot and should be handled as such. He was standing behind his desk when she entered, and she waited.

"Melanie, I believe that skirt is a little, er ..." Mr. Belman looked a little uncomfortable as he glanced down at the skirt again, hiding just enough of Melanie's thighs to prevent her from being arrested for public indecency when she walked home. "It's a little bit shorter than the school's regulations, don't you think?"

"Oh, really?" Melanie said, feigning innocence and putting her hands on his desk to lean over slightly and give him a fair look down her shirt. The shirt was perfect for her purposes -- low-cut, but just so that you could only see down it in certain positions when she needed that advantage. "I had no idea ..."

"Erm, well, it is ..." Mr. Belman cleared his throat. Melanie rolled her eyes. And she could do it without fear of reprove, since his eyes were focused rather below her face.

"I'm [i]so[/i] sorry," Melanie drawled. "But you know, Mr. Belman, our cheerleading are just the same length as this, and we're allowed to wear those in the hallways on spirit days."

"Yes, but you have those ... those shorts underneath, don't you?" Melanie noted that the poor guy's cheeks were turning bright red from talking about this with her.

[i]May as well take advantage of it.[/i] "Well, you can't ever really [i]know[/i] what I'm wearing underneath, can you?"

Thirty seconds later Melanie was out the door and heading for her second class of the day. That had been almost too easy. Then again, she reminded herself, not many teachers were quite as stupid as Mr. Belman.[/size]
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"I would like someone to read the beginning of [i]The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet[/i]. Anybody?"

[i]Nikita sat in her English class perfecting the drawing of an angel in despair while she listened to a mix C.D. that she had burned. The song that currently played was Papercut, by Linkin Park, a song that Nikita particularly was fond of. She liked to drone out the teacher with the sound of her music or the perfecting of her drawings, but this time the teacher did not stand for it. She had walked to Nikita and had cleared her throat.

Looking up, Nikita had seen the shadow of her teacher looming over. She pulled off her headphones and sat up straight. The teacher sighed and looked at Nikita with stern eyes. She was not fond of Nikita being intent on failing her class, for Nikita was one of her top ranking students. She was a bright student with excellent writing, beautiful poetry, and immense styles. Nikita waited for the teacher's lecture on what she had done wrong.[/i]

"Would you please read the Chorus for us, Nikita? And please, do not listen to music in my classroom, as well."

[i]Sighing, Nikita put her drawing away, along with her CD player and had taken out [i]The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet[/i]. She opened the book to the Prologue and began to read.[/i]
"Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;
Whole misadventured piteous overthrows
Do with their death bury their parents' strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,
And the continuance of their parents' rage,
Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend."

[i]Nikita looked to the teacher and saw that she was smiling. The others looked on with confusion, but Nikita knew what it had meant and she knew what was to come of the play. Some even said that Nikita's life was like Romeo and Juliet's, as well as female characters in movies who have the personality of a tough outlook, yet a mysterious image. Nikita knows who she is and she is happy the way she is. People see her as mysterious, dark, and strange. She sees herself as a confused, self-controlled, non-emotinal teenager who thinks life is too short to live. Perhaps others can see her way.[/i][/size][/color]
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