Character monologues

[Guest bblackmoor]

Re: Character monologues

 

That's pretty good: like something from a novel. With work, it could be something from a pretty good novel.

 

I do not mean that as an insult: it'd be less appropriate for a game if you did that, so of course you should not do it in a game. What is approipriate for a work of fiction is often at odds with what is appropriate for a game. Still, from what you've written here, I think it might be worth reading if you re-worked it as a straight piece of fiction.

[BcAugust]

Re: Character monologues

 

I wish I could believe in gods.

 

I wish that there was a reason I was here. A reason that I've had to watch so many horrors and deaths and applaud those who did them. A reason I am bound to a people whose name is a synonym for corruption throughout the galaxy.

 

If only my people were as they used to be. If only I had been born in another time, to a different fate. If only I wasn't someone who had to stay, someone with no responsibilities beyond herself.

 

But I know, the world is what is. And in this world, I am the Princess of a people that I can never show shame of, or a moment's weakness to. There is no Gods, no Fate, no good, no evil, just the choices of people and a mechanical universe. That might makes right, and that there's nothing I can do to stop most of it, in a galaxy most think I'm one of the most powerful in. And all I have is a duty that binds them too me stronger then the tightest chains.

 

But, by the uncaring stars, I wish it was different.

[Reaverofpeace]

Re: Character monologues

 

Warmaster Fielan al Hakra

 

 

Once I would wake and not have a worry in the world, I knew my father would be there for me, and my mother would sing me a tale to cheer me up. Once I was part of a family in the millions, one in which I shared my being day in and day out. Once I was a leader of armies and the men would be glad to serve under me, I craved the recognition that came from it. Once I served a living goddess who ruled with a just and powerful hand. Once I used my talents to maintain her rule. Then the darkness comes.

 

Through the darkness I move, ever onwards to the light ahead, fleeing with the speed of an assassin. I stumble and land on the beach of a sea, with a storm brewing in the distance. To my sides I see breakers to try and stop the storm from laying waste to what’s ahead of me, but they do not seem strong enough. With a burst of light I fall through the sand and into a field of grass. Then the day is now.

 

Now I am alone in a sea of minds, none of which can see. Now I have been dishonored and can never hope to greet my brothers and sisters. Now I devolve secrets that were trusted to me. Now I must sit and hope that a land that knows no discipline can save itself. Now I see beings that would have been stopped run rampant, resisted only by a few brave individuals. Now I see my shattered honor be broken further by a betrayal that I had no part of. Then I wake.

 

Soon I shall bring the way to the minds of those willing. Soon I shall find my brothers and sisters in the brave of a world that is not ruled. Soon I shall cast aside old regrets and be what I was intended to be from the beginning. Soon I shall find what the path truly teaches. Soon I shall lend my aid and my voice to repel a twisted goddess and my enslaved family. Soon I shall join those few who protect the innocents. Soon I shall no longer be a bringer of death. Then the light shines through.

 

I am a man of many years, I have served my honor as was required. This day I find that even though my mind is alone I can find companions that would make the great teacher herself proud to fight besides. I am a warmaster without a brotherhood so I will forge a new one, made of those willing to adopt the path and willing to walk a road of growth. For through this conflict and loss I have found what I was missing.

[BcAugust]

Re: Character monologues

 

(Note, the first monologue was Cyrande at the start of the game. This one is set somewhere in the future, shortly after she's become a full fledged member of the Sentinels.)

 

I wonder if I envy them. Starguard for her bright innocence, Micro's joy in discovering life, Horus's assurance in a higher power, Warmaster's assurance in himself, even Warp's humor, never meant to hurt. Sitting alone, watching the stars above, so different from Malva, I wonder what I feel. It seemed so clear on Malva, though poisonously so. What harm could these primitives ever do to a Princess of Malva? I never expected them to claim my heart.

 

None of them know what a lethal wound that is, and I can not bear to tell them. How could I? A slight hint of my world turned Warp against me for too painfully long, and more would turn the rest away, surely. And the wildness of their spirits could never bloom under Malva's sun. Every one of my old protections would simply turn them against me. So I, who can order the destruction of all their enemies with a word from home, who could raise this world to a paradise if I wished, who from home could hold and order even the Sun God to my bed, do nothing but stand beside them.

 

Cyrande looks up, seeking her home star, seeing it in her mind's eye.

 

How my father would laugh at me, seeing this weakness of mine. How far the Ice Princess has fallen, to wish the respect of primitives. To want to be part of their circle, to be adored for my actions, to wish the ones I admire, admire me back for just being Cyrande, not the princess. And yet, they do so anyway, not even knowing what they give and how preciously rare it is.

 

Cyrande hops down from the skin of her ship, walking back to the hanger, then looking again to the night sky over her shoulder before stepping inside.

 

I hope they never have to learn.

[BcAugust]

Re: Character monologues

 

3 pm. It still, after all this time, feels bizzare to wake up in the middle of the day. And yet, it's right. I get up, amused, walking in what would be total darkness for anyone else but me and getting dressed, fighting down the urge to be Nox again. I suppose that's why I've never fixed the lights in here, so that no one else sees how close together my identies really are. How little being "Sherry" means to me. The only pictures are after Nox came. The team, and clippings of news stories about Nox's heroics. Even the clothes are different, and it strikes me again how little there was to keep from my old life.

 

By the sudden glare outside my room, I notice Diomedes finally got around to fixing the light in the hallway. It can't be more then 20 watts, but it feels so much brighter. The shadows I insist that he leave are inviting, but I force myself to walk in the light. The memories are strong tonight, and I know if I shadow walk, I'll hear them again. Though I never hear what I want in them. On days like this, when wanting to be Nox is just below my skin, willing to shy from the light, I wonder. What exactly did I agree to?

 

I turn the lights in the kitchen all the way up, noting with amusement the guys have again emptied out the fridge. I throw some of the cinnimon rolls in to bake, loving the feeling of being home, as I start preparing food for the rest. Though I note we'll stretch the budget again this week. Oh, well, at least it's starting to look like a base.

 

Mmm.... I know I shouldn't eat so much, or so much sugar, but I enjoy the baking. I put the roast in, and groan aloud at the sound of the phone, amused at myself. "Yes, yes. No, only me. Ok, I'll be there ASAP."

 

It takes only a few seconds to change, becoming Nox and ready to leave. The calming feeling, of hearing the darkness again, letting it respond to me, I pause just a moment to salute the only thing in the base I insist on being bright lit, the first thing we put up. Then I'm off, hoping the previous heros of Chicago know we're looking after the city.

[OddHat]

Re: Character monologues

 

Under the Hat

 

I sit alone in the rain and the darkness. I am cold, and I am angry. I have a duck on my head.

 

I hold onto the anger. The anger keeps me warm, feeds my tired muscles, gives me strength. I lean forward, my cloak failing to flow dramatically behind me. It’s too wet for that. I stifle a sneeze as the thugs make the exchange.

 

There’s at least twenty million worth of pure heroin in that case. I have them. I charge, my feet splashing through dirty water, my arm snapping forward and flinging a sleep gas pellet into the back of the van. If it didn’t take the punks in the van out, it would at least slow them down. The four outside of the van begin to turn. I snarl, savoring the shock on their faces. That shock gives me the time I need.

 

A spin-kick sweep takes two of them down. The others begin to bring their weapons up. I look at their faces. No fear. They are starting to grin.

 

“Ha ha! It’s Captain Duck Hat!†“Hey guys, help! It’s Night Duck!â€

 

The rage is so great I shake now. My vision blurs. A spinning knife hand smashes the big one’s collar bone as I bring my knee up into his side. The other one is still laughing at me as he pumps shots into my body armor. There’ll be bruises in the morning, but right now I don’t even feel the impacts.

 

I grab his gun-arm and throw him into my knee, crushing his rib cage. The four in the van are starting to shake off the gas now, but it left them groggy. One of them looks out and sees me, standing over his buddies, a flash of lighting outlining me against the darkness. He starts to giggle.

 

“Hey! It’s the Duck Knight Avenger!â€

 

Screaming, the pain of the gun-shots forgotten, I charge. The four in the van last only a few seconds.

 

As the cops cart the punks off I can see them struggling to hide their grins. They’re grateful, but still, their eyes keep drifting up. As I begin to head away from the docks I hear one ask The Question.

 

“Why does he have that duck on his head?â€

 

I wish I could tell them.

[Chuckg]

Re: Character monologues

 

You are so getting my therapy bills!

 

*falls back down on the floor in convulsions of laughter*

[JeffreyWKramer]

Under the Hat

 

Very, very, very good, OddHat! My hat (non-ducky) is off to you.

[jackalope]

Re: Character monologues

 

Ben Batcock aka Arcturus, Master of Magnetism

 

Here, a thousand meters above the city, Ben felt content. Here he was alone with his thoughts, his only company the ever present song of the skyscrapers, each bearing a million tons of steel that called out to him.

 

"Love us!" they called out, "Give us life! Make us dance!" Ben wanted to, he wanted to reach out with his mind and twist the skyscrapers into new and interesting forms. But he banished the thought. Those buildings were full of people, he could feel them as well. Scurrying about, like so many bags filled with iron-rich blood.

 

It was an intense feeling, knowing that you could simply will any of them to death, simply tear them to pieces while they screamed helplessly. "What could they do to you?" he thought. "Come at you with their weapons, weapons forged from iron and steel?"

 

Ben knew that they, his people, his charges, couldn't harm him. Their power rested in their mastery of steel and iron, their ability to shape it to their needs. That was Ben's power as well. His power, compared to their power, it made him smile. Their power was nothing, they could forge all the tools they could ever wanted, and he could unmake them with a thought. Let them bring their guns and bombs, Ben had dealt with all - and worse.

 

As he lowered himself into the city, people on the street began to notice him. He floated above their heads, and they pointed up to him. A father held his child up to see. "Yes child," thought Ben, "Look up to the Gods who protect you."

 

He was over Times Square now, and everyone was watching him. None of them dared to call out to him, they were awed by his presence. There were a thousand men who could fly, but to them, those who couldn't, it would always seem a miracle to see.

 

Wait, there in the crowd, a man not looking at him, unaware of the focus of the crowd's attention. His mind was on something else entirely. Ben reached out with his mind, already prepared to act. A truck was parked below him, it's bed full of tools. A hefty wrench would suit Ben's needs, and he reached out with his mind, touched it, gave it life. It rose from the bed of the truck, hovered over the crowd. Few noticed it, least of all Ben's quarry.

 

He moved, that man who had paid no mind to Ben. A fast hand grabbed a loose purse, and fleet feet moved him away. "Pursesnatchers," Ben thought, "pathetic. Barely qualifies as a criminal."

 

The man was running, but there was no point. He couldn't run fast enough, as Ben pushed the wrench flying his way. It slammed into the pursesnatcher, catching him square in the middle of the back. He hit the ground hard. A stainless steel zipper on the bad was all ben needed to pull it from his hands. He brought the purse to himself as he lowered himself to the street next to the near victim.

 

"Ma'am, I believe this yours." The thief was staggering to his feet. He leaned against a steel pole for balance, and Ben grabbed it with his mind. "Dance little pole, find your partner," he thought, as steel twisted with a groan, wrapping tight around the would-be thief.

 

Ben gave the woman a half-hearted smile as she heaped praise and adulation on him. Strange he thought, that after only a few years, the sound of praise had grown so...banal. It meant nothing to him anymore. "Yes, yes, you're welcome, of course." he said.

 

Suddenly the crowd was gathering around him, passing him things to autograph, telling him how wonderful they thought he was. It began to irritate him, to grate on his nerves. The fawning, worshipful masses. Sometimes he almost hated them for their weakness.

 

"I'm sorry good citizens, but I must depart. Crime never rests anywhere in this fair city, and I must return to my patrol. Fare well to you all, and remember: crime does not pay."

 

He lifted up into the sky again, waved goodbye to the crowd, and left them behind. It was good to be a god, to be worshiped and adored by those under your care. But somedays, somedays it was simply wearying...

[Chuckg]

Re: Character monologues

 

Fair warning, this one's LONG. The character in question does tend to ramble on and on and on... she's 16.

 

The following is for a 350-point teen supers character I've created, but never played. OTOH, I like to map out a personality fairly deeply before I play it, so...

 

Sprite

 

Dear Diary. It's that time of the week again, so... ladies, start your monologueing!

 

Now comes the part where I recap my entire life history for you -- not! It's not like I don't already know it, right? If you're not me and reading this, put the book down. If you're the sort of creep who ignores common courtesy like this, and you absolutely have to know the details of my pre-getting-powers career, hit the website of USA Gymnastics and look under "Spencer, Katherine".

 

Yup, that's me, Katie Spencer, the little darling of the last Summer Olympics... and the genetically-ineligible-to-compete in the upcoming one. Well, you can't let people with superpowers in the games, right? Especially not when their event is ladies' gymnastics... and their superpower is super-agility. Well, actually, it's having the synapses in your nervous system mutate and start working at a speed of transmission more appropriate to an organic superconductor than normal human nerves, or at least that's what Dr. Silverback said when they handed him the test results. Nice guy... and no, not "... for a talking gorilla", just, nice guy. Old, though.

 

At any rate, ever since I manifested my powers, my already-incredible agility, balance, and reflexes have moved up into the truly ridiculous range. Those moves you saw in the Matrix? This girl don't need CGI. Yup, even the bullet time... which freaked me out the first time it happened, let me tell you. Add in my sense of balance, which was always great, going up to where it feels like I've got gyroscopes in both inner ears, and a hand-eye coordination so good I can almost write like a laser printer, and, well, pretty nice stuff, huh?

 

Bleh.

 

Yes, "bleh". By now, you're probably going 'Man, what kind of spoiled brat is this girl? She's young, she's gorgeous, she's rich, she's got perfect teeth, her body-fat percentage is lower than her shoe size but she's still in perfect health, she's got ligaments you could use to anchor aircraft carriers with, everybody likes her, and she has superpowers that make her the absolute best in the world at what she likes to do. What's she got to gripe about? If she wants to have problems, she could come live my life for a while!'

 

... oh, come on, it's not like I can't hear you all thinking it. And no, I'm not a telepath. I'm just in high school. Like that isn't enough.

 

Let's take a look at the above statement, all right? "She has superpowers that make her the absolute best in the world at what she likes to do." Well, that's Problem Numero Uno. They make the best in the world at it, not me make me the best in the world at it. Four to five hours of practice a day, every day for eight years, starting at age six... have you ever done anything like that, Miss Kibitzer? Have you even imagined doing anything like that? Could you even try to do that without having a nervous breakdown, or having to stop and quit before you have one? And don't shake your head at me, girl -- some girls do. More than a few, actually. They don't hand out those medals just for looking pretty, let me tell you.

 

So, to recap -- half my life practicing to get so good... very good, actually. Good enough to make the Olympic team at age 13, even if I was the anchor girl. Good enough to not screw up my end of the business, even if I only got a silver medal in one of the individuals. Good enough to not choke any routines, not bust out, not score so low that I kept the team from making a team gold. Yeah, that good. Maybe not the best in the world, not the individual champion, but good enough to be in the top team. Good enough to do my part of it. That good. That was me.

 

And then... one second of my DNA combining in my mom's womb, fifteen-year waiting period, boom... and I'm a million times better than "that good". I'm so good I can clear out a gym just by doing my easier warm-up routine, 'cause I make everybody else there feel like there's no point in even trying. I'm so good that I could play dodge ball against Randy Johnson's fastball in my sleep. But is it me? Nope. It's just my mutation. And it could have happened to anyone.

 

You want sucking? Here's sucking. Sucking is knowing that you could've spent the vast majority of your life up until now parking your hips on the couch with a quart of Haagen-Daaz and a Playstation, and you'd still be the most agile girl in the world by the time you were sixteen. Yay me!

 

Speaking of Playstation, do you have any idea how boring Super Mario is when you've got my reaction time? And it used to be my favorite game! I mean, come on!

 

'But wait!', you might ask. 'Sure, gymnastics competition is no longer meaningful for you -- besides, you're not eligible to compete anyway -- but doesn't getting superpowers mean that an entire new vista of challenges opens up for you? More opportunities to push your envelope, to prove that you're the best, to feel the adrenaline rush?'

 

And whoa, boy, does it ever! Just one slight problem. Most of that "new vista of challenges" involves people trying to KILL ME. And I don't know about you, but for me, the whole 'one wrong move and you might die' part ruins the fun, you know? Effort is one thing. Risk is one thing. Even being terrified that you're going to slip off the balance beam live on worldwide TV, tank the team's chances for a gold medal, and go down in history forever as 'The Choker', right next to all the other footnotes... well, actually, at the time, I thought I could never know anything half as terrifying as that. We're talking mouth-dry, herd-of-stampeding-buffalo-in-stomach, thank-God-I-went-just-before-my-routine-or-else-I'd-be-wetting-my-leotard scary, all right?

 

Then I grew up to have people trying to shoot me in the face. Next to that? I'll take going into the Olympic finals balance beam with the team 0.5 behind the Romanians and needing me to make up the gap single-handed, thank you! It'll be a breeze!. And even Bela Karolyi wouldn't shoot a student just for putting a foot wrong during a floor exercise... well, not from what I've heard, at any rate. Didn't have him. But anyway.

 

So sorry, not enjoying the rush anymore. The taste is kinda ruined by that coppery feeling at the back of my mouth. You know, the one that's Mother Nature's body-signal for "In case you weren't keeping up with current events, you are scared spitless."

 

Still skeptical, huh? Not thinking that Katie could ever be mature enough to actually see the dangers inherent in her situation? There's just no way that a prom-queen-in-training like her could have perspective? Well, the world will never know. Because for my first few months having these powers, especially after I got to Ravenswood, that's how I did feel. Like there was no way anyone was ever touching me, because I was always going to duck. And then a lucky shot -- from my blind side, I might add -- from a VIPER goon taught me otherwise.

 

Contrary to popular belief, I don't actually have a perfect complexion, you know. You can't see it... because there's no way I'm taking my top off in public... but my skin actually does have a blemish on it now. It's a few inches under my left armpit. It's the kind of scar you get from a bullet hole.

 

'Nuff said.

 

'But wait!', you cry, o Hopefully-Hypothetical Future Diary Snoop, perennially mistrustful soul that you are. 'If you're attending Ravenswood Academy, they wouldn't let you go out and fight crime! Especially VIPER! School policy forbids it!'

 

... yes, school policy most definitely does. And, of course, every student here obeys every individual line item in the school rules, at all times, with no exceptions whatsoever. And I'm Istvatha V'Han. Now that you've gotten through proving that too much skepticism destroys the common sense lobe of the brain, may I continue? Hmm? Thank you.

 

Yes, some of the older students here sneak out to get in trouble. And yes, I go with them. At first, it was just because it was exciting. Now? Now it's because even after they've carried me to the emergency room, even after some of us have some so close to dying for good that it makes me want to skip lunch thinking about it... and if you know what my metabolism's like, me passing up a chance at food is a MAJOR signal, thank you. Forget everything you learned about starving gymnasts. My coach was smart enough to know that at 3000+ calories' worth of exercise a day, that plus growing bones equals "let 'em graze."

 

But I digress. So, even after we've got every reason in the world -- complete with Blue Cross bills and hospital charts -- to have it sink into our pointy little teenaged heads "Hey, kids! Supervillains can be seriously hazardous to your health!" You know what? Some of the lunatics that this school laughingly calls honor students STILL THINK IT'S FUN.

 

Look, when somebody who obsessed for half the waking hours of her entire life, who gave up school and childhood playmates and normality, all for a few line items in the record books, maybe a couple of medals, and then nothing to do from age 18 on... when that girl thinks that you are acting like an idiot, then trust me, you are redefining the Platonic Ideal of boneheadedness. Period. End of argument.

 

But, three guesses who can't just step back and let them go out while she stays safe in her dorm room and get themselves all smeared over Pulsar's fist because she's one of the best, if not THE best, fighters in the entire school and they'll only get smeared faster without her. Go on, guess. It's not that hard.

 

Really, I love my conscience. It's what keeps me from growing up to be a psycho like Faith on "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" or something. Which would suck. So no, honestly, not unhappy that I was born or raised with some kind of basic moral sense, God... but dear sweet guardian angels keep me from getting perforated, it's like my conscience wants me to not only be a good girl and go to Heaven someday, but to go there right now and avoid the rush. Because it keeps telling me to go back out there with them, every single time.

 

I hate guilt. Hate it. Guilt is your brain's way of forcing you to do things that you really don't want to do. I guess that's why they made the guilt button so powerful in there... so it could override everything else in your brain. Like your brain.

 

Wow, this is one depressing diary entry.

 

Back to how I ended up at Ravenswood. Well, there I was, 15 years old, won the Nationals (finally) for the first time, and only a couple months away from going back for my glorious repeat performance, all mile markers on the way to my inevitable triumphal march back to the next Summer Olympics and this time, individual all-around gold! Go Katie go!

 

Problem is, that was the first year they refined the DNA testing to be able to spot latent, as well as active, mutants. So, I get a letter from USA Gymnastics instead, telling me that a) I'm not going to Nationals, I'm not going to the Olympics again, c) I'm not going to any officially sanctioned gymnastics competition again forever, oh yes, and d), both the governing board of USA Gymnastics and the IOC are going to be holding hearings on whether or not they should void the medals I already have. Like I was some steroid-pumping cheater or something. So, take that, everybody from "A Current Affair" to "Hard Copy" camping outside our house, my coach and all the other girls in Seniors-level gymnastics -- aka "My friends" -- suddenly not returning phone calls, add all that together, mix in a blender, serve, and you get chocolate. Yes, chocolate. As in "there is not enough chocolate on the planet Earth to kill this kind of pain".

 

And then, just a week or so before the first of the hearings, I sneak out of the house to go see a movie, and some psycho reject from the local high school decides to express how PO'ed he is that his ex-girlfriend has moved on to date somebody with an actual sanity gland by going postal with a gun. And, of course, in pure 'Basketball Diaries' tradition, he picks the pretty blonde with the killer looks to blast first...

 

... and the danger triggered the first active expression of my mutant powers, I easily dodged all the bullets like they were in Matrix time, and I kicked his butt all over the lobby despite not knowing anything about martial arts, simply because I was that many orders of magnitude above him agility-wise. What? You need me to tell you the ending? It's not like you were expecting anything else, right?

 

So, good news -- having just had conclusive proof delivered that I was still 'latent' and 'unexpressed' during my competetive days, because Lord knows I was nowhere near as agile then as I am now, they let me keep the medals, and the record books didn't have to have asterisks and correction fluid. Bad news -- the entire free world knew that Katie Spencer was a mutant. Oh yes, and worse news -- my folks freaked.

 

OK, if, at this moment, my Hypothetical Reader had a mental image of my parents being some type of IHA bigots, or anything near, I swear that if I ever find out who you are I am beating you with a chair until all your parts stop twitching and then I'm using your nuts as springboard for a tumbling routine. They weren't like that at all. They love me, OK? They're good people, OK? They were the sort of parents every girl in gymnastics wishes they had... you know, the sane ones. And having once been teammates with a girl who was spawned by the worst pair of lunatics I've ever seen outside of colored tights and an ugly mask, I'm not speaking theoretically, OK?

 

No, not saying who she is. If she ever wants people to know, she can call her agent and have him find someone to write a book. Besides, she lives with her aunt now anyway.

 

No, Mom and Dad freaked becuase they figured out right at the start something that it took me not only being shot at but shot into to figure out... specifically, that people with superpowers tend to spend the rest of their lives meeting other people with superpowers, or nuts like VIPER, and that those nuts will shoot back. So hey, you just found out that your little girl's probably going to grow up to be a superhero, which means that she's probably ending up someday with her name carved on a wall like the heroes in Memorial Park. Wouldn't you freak? If you were any kind of a parent?

 

So, to help keep me safe, they sent me to Ravenswood.

 

And yes, in hindsight, that plan did kinda backfire, didn't it? But can you blame them? They were certain that as soon as the newness of my powers wore off I'd be putting my leotards back on, painting them with pin-stripes, getting a mask, and going out to save the world, or at least our particular suburb, all by my lonesome. And to be fair, I might have. I mean, it's the traditional sort of thing you do when you get superpowers, right? Especially ones like mine? And goodness knows I originally jumped at the first chance I had to get into that kind of stuff after I got here.

 

So, they treated it same as when I started going all crazy about balance beams and uneven bars back when I was a little girl. If you can't convince her not to do it -- and to be fair, I am one stubborn little rhymes-with-witch when I want something -- then help her find the best training you can get, and a coach who will keep her from hurting herself trying too hard. And voila, Ravenswood.

 

You have no idea how hard I had to fast-talk to keep Ms. Pelvanen from telling my parents exactly how I ended up in the hospital. I ended up telling her that if Mom & Dad found out everything, they'd pull me out of here even faster than they put me in here, and poof, there goes any chance she'd have of ever stopping me from doing something stupid again. Goodness knows that they couldn't, it's why they sent me here, right?

 

Amazingly, it worked. But hey, like I said just now, guilt is a very powerful emotion. And I can be a really stubborn you-know-what when I want something.

 

So, now I'm a superhero-in-training, and member of a not-quite-authorized superhero team. Not that we're exactly secret or anything -- this is Millennium City, and the news crews have learned how to show up fast when a superfight's in progress. So we've all had lots of chances to be on the evening news, and if we don't move fast enough, we even get stuck with "superteen-on-the-street" interviews.

 

Still, at least we don't do anything stupid like telling the world that a group of the Ravenswood kids play hooky to try and get themselves thrashed by superpowered lunatics every weekend... the school's been really good to all of us, it would be a complete loser trick to pay it back with that kind of bad press. Not that they can't guess, but we can't admit it. Not that some of the team haven't tried -- look, I know we can't all be former Olympians, but haven't any of you ever had a camera and a microphone shoved into your face before? You just keep cool, smile, and remember your lines. Me, I've been living with cameras and reporters since I was twelve, I can breeze it without even trying. So three guesses who got made team spokesgirl. Uh-huh.

 

Well, I am good on-camera, I have to admit that. Plus the fact that if I put any real effort into my cute routine, I can charm almost any grown-up on the planet out of his socks. Ah, the power of being blonde, blue-eyed, perky, and with a figure perfectly sculpted to be on the borderline between petite, athletic, and just plain stacked. Works on reporters, coaches, parents, most official authority figures, some teachers, and -- unfortunately -- everything between the ages of 13 and 18 with a Y chromosome. There's times I wish I could selectively filter out that last one. Such as "99 out of 100 times I walk into the school lunchroom". But I digress.

 

Still, good thing that nobody knows just where Katie Spencer's parents sent her to boarding school after she was a nine-day wonder as "the mutant gymnast", or else I'd be blowing our cover just by showing up and breathing.

 

What else haven't I covered in this weekly fit of self-introspection, diary? Ah, yes, romance. Love. L'amour. Dating. Kissy stuff.

 

OK, the three-word summary -- Ain't Gettin' None.

 

I can hear the gasps of incredulity from here. How can the best-looking girl in school not be dated up until the year 2010? To this, I answer with a question of my own -- have you seen these guys?

 

I can fit every male student in this school into one of these following categories -- too young, too shy, too boring, too ugly, too much of a jerk (and they're running a bumper crop of that one), and then the last category, which is composed of one.

 

*sigh* Just my luck that the only boy in this school who combines all the necessary qualities -- decent, honest, smart, funny, cheekbones, muscle tone, and cute butt -- is absolutely unattainable. As in "don't even think about it". As in "major interstellar incident lies a-waiting".

 

Yes, interstellar incident. This year's class is all provided with handsome hunk o' burnin' alien love, in the form of an extraterrestrial prince secretly on Earth to [CLASSIFIED]. I mean, he wouldn't even tell me. Anyway, he's here, he's gorgeous, he's perfect, and he's one of my teammates.

 

He's also royalty, and I've read enough history to know what that means. It means that in any place where they still take royalty seriously -- as opposed to, oh, England -- he's going to grow up to marry who they pick for him, not who he wants to.

 

And yes, I am too young to be thinking about marriage. I'm not thinking about marriage. I'm not even seventeen yet, sheesh. But what I am thinking is that if I'm going to date a guy, or, you know, more than date a guy, I have to like the guy. Well, more than like the guy. There has to be some genuine element of the L-word there. And, well, while I have absolutely no idea what's on his mind -- boys can be so obscure sometimes, like, every moment they're not asleep or dead -- maybe there could be.

 

But remember that marriage thing. No matter what else a relationship with him might be, I can already know 100% for sure one thing that it will be -- temporary. And, well, if his inevitable future destiny is arranged marriage, then the least I can do is let him go into it with a chance to like it, as opposed to leaving his one true love tragically behind forever. I mean, if you like a guy, perpetual heartbreak should not be your choice of a graduation present to him, right? Right.

 

It still sucks, though. Oh well, if you can't vent to your diary, who can you vent to?

 

What else haven't I covered? Oh, classes. Feh. Classes. I always did good in school, even with home-schooling. And apparently, one of the side effects of my new nervous system is also photographic memory, so I don't even have to study now. Straight-As for Katie, no waiting! The only class that gives me any problem any more is math... I hate math.

 

Spare me the blonde jokes, you can't tell me one I haven't heard already. Yes, I. Hate. Math. It's not like I can't do it... the lowest grade I ever got in my life, even pre-memory-upgrades, was a B-. It's just that I don't like to do it.

 

Although it's weird. Math and how much it sucks is about the only thing that's not changed for me -- everything is easier now, because every other piece of learning requires either book memory or muscle memory, and I've got perfect at both. So it's almost like I look forward to calculus class now (aka Math: The Sucking), because it's dreadful, but familiar.

 

God, I am such a dork when nobody else is looking.

 

Moving on.

 

OK, we've done my life story, my (lack of) romance, math class... what's left? What's left to do? Why are we here?

 

Well, that's the question, isn't it Katie? Why are we here? What are we going to do with ourselves for the rest of our life? What are our goals now?

 

Every week, I sit down and write these long letters to myself in my diary, right before I rip the pages out and flush them down the toilet to keep anybody else from reading them -- people with total recall don't need diaries, I'm surprised you didn't spot that, O Hypothetical And Never-To-Actually-Be Reader -- because, well, it helps me gets my thoughts outside my head and out where I can look at them.

 

Except that the thought I'm looking for -- the whole what-do-I-want-to-do-with-my-life one -- is still hiding in there. Every week I try and trap it and get it out here, and every week, nada.

 

I'll catch that wabbit one of these days, though. And meanwhile... hey, while I shot down the idea pretty harsh in the first page of this little epistle, there was a lot of truth in it. Most of my life is going great from day to day. I mean, by some weird alchemy of coincidence, the weirdness of being a home-schooled gymnastics nut plus the weirdness of being a mutant superstar in the school for superpowered kids has added up to "Katie has completely skipped out on almost every problem of normal high school."

 

And it's not like I don't have powers that aren't easy to control... my power is super-agility, and I was an Olympic gymnast beforehand? Compared to the kids who throw lightning bolts or fly or move stuff with their mind, I was born with the instruction manual to my genes. They're busy trying to figure out how to deal having senses, or abilities, or limbs the human brain was never wired to even have in the first place, and I'm just working out in the gym putting more fine-tuning on things I've had all my life, just not so much of. There's a reason I'm one of the star students and best fighters around here, and it's not because I'm Teleios. Heck, I put Nightwind almost through the mat last week in sparring sessions. Nightwind. Can you believe it? He trained at martial arts twice as hard as I did for twice as long as I did at gymnastics, and I still whomp him, because my genes are just that darned good.

 

... you know, now that I think about, that must have really really sucked for him. Ouch. OK, Katie, note to self -- apologize to him next week. I know we don't do 'apology' well, but try, OK? Humble, that's the ticket. I can do humble, right?

 

So I'm breezing through here. I'm breezing classes. Most of the time, I'm even breezing superhero work -- we don't fight VIPER or Black Paladin or suchlike every day, after all. And most of the mooks with guns in this town barely qualify as the warm-up act. Feels good to stop them from shooting the people who can't dodge bullets, though. And if I practice enough, maybe I can get breezy enough with superfights that I stop being so scared all the time, too. Maybe that will be my career someday, as ridiculous as that notion sounds right now.

 

OK, too much thinking. Long experience has taught me that when the self-introspection session reaches a certain length, it's time to lose the pen, loses the pages, and go find a monumentally-greasy triple-decker cheeseburger. God bless my hyperactive little blast furnace of a stomach... I have no idea why superfast nerves make me able to eat anything and never gain an ounce now, but I am most definitely not complaining!

 

See you next week, diary. Until then, well, I'll just keep on trying to be the best.

 

... thought I was going to use some Olympics cliche like "score a perfect ten", did you? Nope, sorry. That was gymnastics. This is real life.

 

See you around.

[zornwil]

Re: Character monologues

 

Very very good, I didn't read every word but this is clearly excellent, solid character background and personality.

[Hawksmoor]

Re: Character monologues

 

Wow this is almost like necromancy. Not really far back but deep enough.

 

As to writing what the PC thinks I do it all the time, so it is a good thing that I'm not in a game with Brandon isn't it?

 

PBEM is a plumber's dream, all the time to explore the soul of a character. But, the journey loses its richness if no one is along for the ride. I would like to see more 'thought ballons' in games I run and play in. They are important.

 

Hawksmoor

[Chuckg]

Re: Character monologues

 

Eh, I had a sudden attack of monologue for a character I've had in the prop box for a good long while, but have no opportunity to use and won't have for quite a while. I would have started a new thread, but I dimly remembered one already existing, so I went archive-divin' for it.

[Guest bblackmoor]

Re: Character monologues

 

The following is for a 350-point teen supers character I've created' date=' but never played. OTOH, I like to map out a personality fairly deeply before I play it, so...[/quote']

 

That's one of the main reasons I write character monologues, too.

 

Good post.

[Chuckg]

Re: Character monologues

 

Oh, hell, just realized I forgot to acknowledge a source.

 

The character of 'Sprite' is based upon Trebuchet's mainstay of MidGuard, Zl'f -- I liked the basic idea but wanted to take it in a substantially different direction, so I removed the speedster and other secondary powers, made her almost ten years younger and thoroughly American-ized, and put her in Ravenswood. Her student code name is a deliberate homage -- "zl'f" *is* the Russian word for "sprite".

 

Oh, and she's a /little/ taller. Okay, five-three.

[CBikle]

Re: Character monologues

 

Not quite a monologue, but this press release pretty much describes my character.

[zornwil]

Re: Character monologues

 

Not quite a monologue' date=' but this press release pretty much describes my character.[/quote']

Priceless!

[CBikle]

Re: Character monologues

 

Priceless!

 

Thanks.

[Karma]

Re: Character monologues

 

I generally only do 'character monologues' in PBEM games. I feel it's better than simply posting your character's actions and can give the other players a feel for your character. I especially like doing it in PBEM's where players are allowed to add the actions and thoughts of other people's characters and NPC's to their posts (as long as they stay within the predetermined boundries of the character. IOW no having someone elses character act 'out of character' (although you can have your own do so, which keeps people wondering). Some people might accuse me of being a post-hog, but I like my posts to be interesting and :

 

Hardball comes in through the doorway and hits the thug.

 

is far less interesting than:

 

Hardball creeps into the room. Around him he sees his team mates. Jockboy Titan, the brick of his group, has already layed out two thugs

"Typical" thinks Hardball "We could have sneaked in and avoided all this trouble, but Jockboy had to go and play hero. With this noise whoever is behind this will know we're here and have placed the hostages in a 'inescapable death trap' by the time we reach him. What is it about teenages and subtlety?"

He sneaks up behind one opf the tugs looking at the fight and beans him with a baseball bat.

[assault]

Re: Character monologues

 

Meh. Just keep buying Assault beers and be prepared to listen and he'll give you the longest monologue you've ever heard. Of course, it's quite likely that in the space of five minutes he will tell you that his powers are a result of a radiation accident, that he's a mutant, and that his father was an Empyrean, but that's what happens when you listen to people in pubs.

 

Alcohol doesn't effect him, but he's still a master of the art of BSing.

 

Because it's fun...

[Guest bblackmoor]

Re: Character monologues

 

"Typical" thinks Hardball "We could have sneaked in and avoided all this trouble' date=' but Jockboy had to go and play hero...."[/quote']

 

This is exactly the kind of self-indulgent, passive-aggressive behavior that I despise in games (any kind of game, email or not). If the player has a problem, the player should say so. If the character has a problem, the character should say so (or, better, demonstrate it through their actions, body language, and so on). Criticizing or insulting another PC in a way that makes it impossible for them to respond is obnoxious. Once in a while, it's not a big deal, but if the player makes a habit of it, it basically just poisons the game.

[Enforcer84]

Re: Character monologues

 

Enforcer's monolgue might read a lot like a letter to Penthouse Forum.

[zornwil]

Re: Character monologues

 

Enforcer's monolgue might read a lot like a letter to Penthouse Forum.

Heh, sounds like what happened in our game today...the Punisher "dropped by" (blasting through the base's walls!) and was demanding the Justice Squad help him as he was sure they were involved in an, ahem, incident which the Men in Black were going after him for. But (quite unexpected to the GM), one of the player's followers, Jane, who is a shapeshifter, and, like the player's main PC, continually tries to learn and mimic human behavior (they're aliens), decided to try out her sexual prowess on him. It worked. They made quite a racket in the elevator and then the base's prisoner cold-sleep area (she figured that would be perverse). At one point, Gere-luce, the base scientist, came by to Laughton (one of the PCs, contacting the MiB to work something out) and said, disgustedly, "I'm shutting off the cameras..." and wandered back out. Definitely not a turn I expected all the way arond, lol!

 

Laughton had a talk with Sammy (Jane's mate, the PC related to Jane) about her adult video watching habits and to curtail her activities. Sammy just doesn't get Laughton's attitude! By the way, Laughton is also an alien, but he's the opposite of Sammy and Jane. Sammy and Jane are complete sensualists, and extremely interested in mimicing and experiencing human emotions (though being alien their own emotional reactions are at quite a tangent to human ones), whereas Laughton is ascetic.

 

Anyway, the Penthouse Forum thing reminded me.

[BcAugust]

Re: Character monologues

 

Folding the paper carefully in the headland wind, looking at the old picture of her on the article, Nox smiles slightly. It figures, I wonder how long that photo's been stock in the States. Then again, I don't usually change my appearance for over there... yet. Though I could see the newsseller look at me as if he couldn't believe his eyes. Who says New Yorkers are unflappable?

 

Scanning it, the headline the usual tabloid scaremongering. It's strange, over half my life dismissed with two sentences. Then again, I suppose that's the way I feel too, how far I am from that girl...yet knowing my strength comes from being her. At least they aren't repeating the rumors I was a villain first... or left to become one.

 

Another smile, at the picture of her old team, then as she turns the page, she looks away, her face becoming a mask, letting the sea wind blow her hair back as she tries to compose herself. I couldn't be there. I knew there were heroes going to be there, and that there was only one facing down that cult. I had to choose, and I chose the one that stopped the dark gods from coming here. I had to fight for the greater good. Even when it cost so, so much. I remember finally smashing the alter, getting ready to go to Detroit...when the hammer blow fell. That's the only time I've cried since I changed, and I hated what I was at that moment. When the tears falling down my face changed to obsidian hitting the ground, when what I was called me to something else. But I pray those souls went to a proper rest.

 

Shaking her head out of her introspection, then looking through again, another smile. How American. Then again, I did have a few different hero names... a few different names, period. Still, you'd think I was distinctive enough that they could say more then I disappeared until recently, when all I've been doing is fighting beyond America's shores. Though, I'll trust they'll eventually dig that up. And I think my free time is up.. Looking to the sky, then folding the paper carefully, putting it in a spare shadow pocket, then leaving, no sign she'd ever been here.

[input.jack]

Re: Character monologues

 

This is exactly the kind of self-indulgent' date=' passive-aggressive behavior that I despise in games (any kind of game, email or not). If the player has a problem, the player should say so. If the character has a problem, the character should say so (or, better, demonstrate it through their actions, body language, and so on). Criticizing or insulting another PC in a way that makes it impossible for them to respond is obnoxious. Once in a while, it's not a big deal, but if the player makes a habit of it, it basically just poisons the game.[/quote']

 

Who are you saying is being self-indulgent? The player monologuing? Or the player whose character rushed in ahead of the plan?

 

Also, sometimes its not in -character- for a character to say they have a problem with another character. If its a player to player conversation, yeah, sure, bring it up. But sometimes players let something go on that bugs their character -because- it bugs their character. And in being bugged, the character gets to think and feel things that are interesting to the player.

 

(Note: This is not to say that its all right to allow your character being annoyed -in- character to transfer to you -out- of character. If youre annoyed -out- of character, please tell someone!)