You are here

Cobralingus #1

10 posts / 0 new
Last post
Cobralingus #1

This is a game of Cobralingus. See rules at right (or at the bottom of the page, for you mobile people).

For the INPUT text, I am quoting the definition of "Roleplaying Game" from Wikipedia. Anyone who wishes to may go next. Here it is:

INPUT:
A role-playing game is a game in which players assume the roles of characters in a fictional setting. Players take responsibility for acting out these roles within a narrative, either through literal acting or through a process of structured decision-making or character development. Actions taken within many games succeed or fail according to a formal system of rules and guidelines.

Tags: 
3
FIND STORY

Everyone loved the game, and yet in its fame, the game had grown bored of rules. The game searched far and wide for something beyond just the rules, something more. A fire inside.

On a journey for motivation, perhaps a stroll for the muses themselves, the game happened upon a little girl playing. But as it watched, the game simply couldn't understand why she would do what she was doing. There were no rules. She seemed to just make things up on the spot.

"What nonsense is this?" the game gasped. "Your rules are no rules, and you seem to change things at the drop of a hat. Where is order? Where is fairness? Where is tradition and rules?"

The cheering cherub simply giggled and continued on playing. She was the captain of a spaceship, masts to the solar winds and steering the wheel at the open deck. Her fellow pirates were swordfighting with pickle-ninjas, and she had no time for the game's silly questions.

"Please, tell me of your game. It mystifies me." the game begged after it could bear the scene no longer.

"I'm roleplaying."

"Roleplaying?'

"Yes!" she said, raising her stick high as she stood atop a large stone. "This is the HMS Pipperella and we're stealing great treasures back from the pickle shogun's territory."

"That's not real. You can't possibly-" the game started before an odd idea came over it.

"I'm a character." the kid said.

"In a fictional setting." the game mused. "Yes. You may have something there. You must take responsibility for acting out your role within this narrative."

The girl looked at him sideways. "You talk funny, game. I just act. It's like theater. It's like dreaming. Don't dream it, just be it. Pretend, that is."

But already the game was ignoring the child to its own inner gears, churning. "Literal acting. A process of structured, decision-making."

"Or character." the kid corrected it, switching to the ship's rear gunner turrets to shoot down the legions of space squids and their space-cowboy masters.

"Character development. Actions taken within this process may succeed, or fail, according to..." the game mused.

"So what are you gonna be? I think dinosaurs are cool, you can be a dinosaur game."

"No no." the game shunned such playful joy. "A formal system of rules and guidelines must be finalized at once. You've helped me. Thank you. Enjoy your... space whatevers."

And again the game lingered in long hours, toiling to its grim and productive ways. And the child continued having fun, something the game had entirely missed.

1d17. Result: (6) = 6
0
CONTROL

A bored game searches for rules which it finds in the play of a child, but fails to find the fun.

1d17. Result: (1) = 1
0
INCREASE SENSE

A duck sits beside murky waters filled with detritus, shed feathers, its own faeces, and sighs. "Quack..." It looks at its distorted, shit-coloured reflection. It is lonely. There are two others beside it. One looks identical to it; the other is large and ungainly by comparison. What is the purpose of this? it wonders. Why do we sit thusly, in this order, in this specific place? "Quack?" it asks.

"Quack," the identical bird replies, and the duck nods in agreement, even if it does not fully understand. The large bird does not respond.

Something splashes in the water. An unaccompanied duckling has launched itself into the foetid bog, swimming in wide circles and leaving a clear, dark wake through the dusty pollen-yellowed scum. "Quack!" the duckling laughs, swimming in erratic patterns. It returns to the shore, scrabbling through the weeds and mud. It pecks at a small piece of waterweed clinging to the first duck's tail feathers. "Quack!" the duck says irritatedly, snapping at the youngster.

The duckling proceeds to run around the two identical ducks and the third, much larger and uglier duck. "Quack-quack-QUACK!" the duckling bites the large duck on its rump. The large bird leaps into the water with a loud HONK!

The first duck understands. It doesn't understand the why or the how, just the what. It, somehow, has an instinctual understanding of this game, the way one has an instinctual understanding of how to eat or breathe or shit. Yes, the duck thinks, as the waters settle and it sees the reflection of the duckling staring back at it. I know of this game; however, I do not see the point of it. It is arbitrary. A redundant cycle that serves no purpose. "Quack," it explains to the others.

"Quack," the duckling replies.

The duck looks at its reflection in the murky, brown waters filled with detritus, feathers and shit. "Quack," it sighs.

1d17. Result: (8) = 8
0
Search and Replace

["Duck" replaced with a random encounter entry from Kobold Fight Club; "Quack" replaced with a Google answer for "what sound does a [random creature name] make?"]

A bat sits beside murky waters filled with detritus, shed feathers, its own faeces, and sighs. "Squeak..." It looks at its distorted, shit-coloured reflection. It is lonely. There are two others beside it. One looks identical to it; the other is large and ungainly by comparison. What is the purpose of this? it wonders. Why do we sit thusly, in this order, in this specific place? "Squeak?" it asks.

"Click," the identical creature replies, and the bat nods in agreement, even if it does not fully understand. The large creature does not respond.

Something splashes in the water. An unaccompanied batling has launched itself into the foetid bog, swimming in wide circles and leaving a clear, dark wake through the dusty pollen-yellowed scum. "Squeak!" the batling laughs, swimming in erratic patterns. It returns to the shore, scrabbling through the weeds and mud. It pecks at a small piece of waterweed clinging to the first bat's tail. "Click!" the bat says irritatedly, snapping at the youngster.

The batling proceeds to run around the two identical bats and the third, much larger and uglier bat. "Click-click-SQUEAK!" the batling bites the large bat on its rump. The large bat leaps into the water with a loud CLICK!

The first bat understands. It doesn't understand the why or the how, just the what. It, somehow, has an instinctual understanding of this game, the way one has an instinctual understanding of how to eat or breathe or shit. Yes, the bat thinks, as the waters settle and it sees the reflection of the batling staring back at it. I know of this game; however, I do not see the point of it. It is arbitrary. A redundant cycle that serves no purpose.

"Click," it explains to the others.

"Click," the batling replies. The bat looks at its reflection in the murky, brown waters filled with detritus, feathers and shit. "Click." "Squeak," it sighs.

1d17. Result: (16) = 16
0
PURIFY

Murky waters. Detritus. Feathers, faeces.
A bat sits, lonely.
There are two others beside it. One looks identical, the other large and ungainly.
It wonders: Why do we sit thusly, in this order, in this specific place?
Squeak. Click.
The bat does not understand.
An unaccompanied batling laughs, swimming in erratic patterns. It returns to the shore and pecks at the first bat's tail.
"Click!" the bat says irritatedly, snapping at the youngster.
"Click-click-SQUEAK!" the batling bites the large bat on its rump.
The large bat leaps into the water with a loud CLICK!
Yes, the first bat thinks, I know of this game; a redundant cycle that serves no purpose.
The bat looks at its reflection.
Murky waters. Detritus. Feathers, faeces.
"Click."
"Squeak."

1d17. Result: (12) = 12
1
FIND STORY

Three bats, two identical and one larger and gangly roost high above the fetid, murky waters of the cave. Bits and bobs of detritus and feather filled bat guano float beneath them.

The gangly bat thinks to itself, "Why do we sit like this? Why this order?"

Suddenly, the big bat's musings are interrupted by a playful click and squeak. The gangly bat takes a moment to gather its bearings again, trying to understand what's happening. The laughter of an unaccompanied batling draws its attention to the murky water below. The batling is swimming in circles in the fetid water splashing playfully.
"Click!" The gangly bat snaps an irritated warning at the youngster.

The batling swims to the shore and shakes itself dry before fluttering up to the large, gangly bat.

"Click-click-SQUEAK!" The batling replies argumentatively. The gangly bat glares and flutters its wings provocatively, almost as though it was admonishing the much younger bat.

The batling bites the gangly bat's rump and the much larger bat leaps from its roost, forgetting momentarily about the laws of physics. And then reality ensues, and gravity pulls the bat into the filth below.

The bat stares at its reflection in the murky water and thinks to itself, "Ah. yes. This game. I know it." The bat gangly bat squeaks disdainfully. "This game is little more than a redundant cycle that has no purpose." The bat sighs, and looks at its reflection in the murky, fetid waters of the cave, filled with the detiris of feathers and bat guano.

1d17. Result: (6) = 6
1
Purify

Three bats in a cave. The water is filthy. The bats are not all identical.
The bats emit clicking and squeaking sounds. A pup splashes in the water. It appears to be playing.
The pup emerges from the water and interacts with the largest bat. The large bat replies with vocalizations.
The pup nips the large bat in the rump.
The large bat appears to be startled and falls into the water.

1d17. Result: (12) = 12
0
ENHANCE

In a mineral-becrusted cave nestled deep within the Foothills of Fatima, far from the touch of human hands, a trio of resplendent chiroptera recline in reflection, their clicks and squeaks echoing in resounding patterns across the empty space high above placid waters. Down there amidst the detritus of countless years, floating and sashaying atop the surface of the dark grotto, a young bat squeals in enjoyment at a newfound pleasure: splashing and diving in graceful maneuvers and sending droplets flying outward and back down in reflecting arcs, like dark fireworks that only the keenest eyes can see. Emerging from the pool with his fur slicked back and grinning with amusement, the bat pup quietly and stealthfully approaches its eldest senior, a regal creature whose massive girth bespeaks his advanced years and hard-gained wisdom, and nips him on his hiney.

A glorious cacophony of startled squeaks and chirps emits from the elder bat, who, losing his footing in surprise, tumbles head-over-flailing-wings down through the chilly air to land - SPLASH! - amidst the flotsam of the pool, disturbing the mirrorlike essence of the cool watery surface, and providing yet another round of amusement for the mischievous youngster.

1d17. Result: (4) = 4
1
SAVE

-- OUTPUT SAVED. END OF GAME. --

1d17. Result: (17) = 17
0
Topic locked