media, What We Do In The Shadows, muck nostalgia
I just remembered that I was Colin Robinson long before there was a Colin Robinson.
OK, story time. I'll try to keep it brief[1].
I had a friend on Tapestries named White-Delirium. She had a reputation as a troublemaker. She was a white mink girl in a bloody black rubber butchers apron. She was like Harley Quinn written by David Lynch. I adored her. I was also a good friend of her player in real life. They were practically my little sib.
Well, she developed a social circle/VR polycule around herself and everybody wanted a [color+psychological affliction/adolescent emotion] mink. Red Vengeance and Blue Malice or whatever the fuck, IK don't remember the actual names.
And they not only kinda missed a lot of what made WD charming, they actually had DRAMA over who got to be a mink and who didn't.
Well, I knew I had implicit permission to fuck around with White's character. She had even asked me to help destroy the minks once.
So.
Beige-Tedium.
I didn't call him that at the time, but in retrospect I set out to create the greatest energy vampire that TapestriesMUCK had ever seen, as a blatant satire of the other minks.
He would just go into the kinkiest rooms on Tapestries and read the newspaper and drink coffee, in lavish multi-paragraph poses. If someone tried to have a conversation with him, he'd ramble at them about bus trips and bowling techniques and modal jazz until asked in any way to stop.
I would only do this in a dead-quiet room and would politely defer to real conversation or RP... unless the political content or people involved annoyed me. I never said I was a saint. n.n
And I had the time of my fucking life. People were actually really fun and supportive about it, and I went out of my way to give hints that this was a big goof and everybody was invited to play along.
And those fucking baby minks WELCOMED Beige as their uncle. They LOVED him, those little bastards. They were all so ready for the furry RP Shaggs[2]. The plan totally backfired.
[1] oops
[2] http://www.warr.org/odds.html#POTW
re: media, What We Do In The Shadows, muck nostalgia
i am especially proud of the awfulness of the "suckling from pink pert middle age" line, i think the great k-strass[1] himself would approve
[1] aka the "proto-colin," look him up
media, What We Do In The Shadows, muck nostalgia
This is utterly fantastic, and absolutely not the ending I expected :D
That's also a deviously fiendish plan, even if it didn't work out the way originally intended <3
Gosh, I miss MUCKs*.
*(Or I guess, rather, I miss the time in my life when MUCKs were viable)
media, What We Do In The Shadows, muck nostalgia
I miss both... I couldn't separate myself out of my characters, no matter how many times I tried, and I just ended up feeling very lonely, in them...
re: media, What We Do In The Shadows, muck nostalgia
@zebratron2084 Dang, that is all just ... *spectacular*, throughout.
re: media, What We Do In The Shadows, muck nostalgia
@Austin_Dern *bows*
media, What We Do In The Shadows, muck nostalgia
... I hate them.
Though, it's a childish hate that would simply parade around them with absolutist protest signs and kazoos, which would only feed the point... so...
re: media, What We Do In The Shadows, muck nostalgia
@JulieSqveakaroo They were absolutely loathsome. Corporate financier type, one mole short of a Monty Burns, one business card short of a Patrick Bateman.
media, What We Do In The Shadows, muck nostalgia
@zebratron2084 This is literally the most I've ever felt the phrase "Thanks, I hate it."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hxPsXPCR5MU
re: media, What We Do In The Shadows, muck nostalgia
@Orb2069 That's the Shaggs, all right! 😽
re: media, What We Do In The Shadows, muck nostalgia
Found the @desc for Beige-Tedium. Irritating fucked up line breaks left in on purpose. <3
Efficiently groomed from the tips of his angular ears to the tidy
brush of his tail, this beige-furred mink's features practically
clamor to avoid your interest. His headfur is faintly longer than that
on his body, grey at the temples, slicked back with an oily sheen of
hair tonic. His brow is creased from his permanent disapproving scowl.
Perched on the bridge of his muzzle, his thick trifocals shatter and
distort his face, but at least they hide his crow's feet. His posture
is impeccable, indulging in none of the unseemly slouches or lazy sways
characteristic of his species. If life were a breast, he'd be suckling
right from pert, pink middle age.
He wears a three-piece suit, ruthlessly purged of dust and lint. The
jacket is PC-tower beige, straight off the rack, but he seems to wear
it well -- so well, indeed, that it's hard to imagine him in anything
else. His shirt is white and unremarkable, and the cuffs partially
conceal the mink's sole interesting trait: the backs of his paws are
each tattooed with several black squares in an orderly grid. Of course,
he's also wearing a digital watch, that's kind of neat too. His tie
is solid grey, a shade approximately 0.1% more festive than that of
his jacket. His charcoal-colored pants have been meticulously ironed
to a level of smoothness previously achieved only in select military
aviation components. His feet are crammed into a smartly polished pair
of black wingtips.
In summary, he is twenty-six lines and two-hundred ninety words long,
with an average word length of 3.61. His @desc is fully 19% more
efficient than his player's typical @desc from the year 2000 -- a
most promising outlook for the coming quarter.