Ideas in Ink: Keep it in the Character

Ksi

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Ideas in Ink is a series of topics dedicated to practising writing by assigning writing exercises over a month, each on different aspects, themes or genres.

What you write is up to you - poetry, brainstorming, short stories, longer stories, lists of ideas... everything is welcome and you may be as serious or ridiculous as you wish.
 
You may also write about whatever you wish as long as it pertains to the subject/theme and prompt. This means that there will most likely be some over-PG-rated works. Because of this, I ask that you stick to the rules of posting.
 
Rules

 
RULE 01 - Posting
You have one post in the thread in which you add your prompts, using the handily coded list below.
 
Each prompt should be hidden in spoiler tags with the appropriate heading above them. When you have completed a prompt, bold the header.
If a piece is over a PG rating, it should be tagged with descriptor tags: Sex, Violence, Drugs, etc as well as approximate age tags - 13-15, 15-18, 18+. These must be in bold and next to the title of the piece.
Like so:
Prompt 07 {Sex, Drugs, Foul Language}{18+}
If you are told to change or add tags, do so or I will edit them myself.
I'll be linking each of your main posts to your name in the OP to make it easier to find them, so please follow this for posting prompt updates/additions.
 
RULE 02 - Necroposting
These threads can be brought back from the dead at any time. They're immune to age, so feel free to post the prompt updates your forgot to add at any time, even two years down the track.
RULE 03 - Feedback
Please be constructive when giving feedback. This means try to point out the things you liked in a written piece as well as the parts that need improving. Don't be a dick.
 
For example: "I liked your character, but I think you need to check out your spelling and grammar. Also, the theme is really good, but there needs to be a bit more reaction from the surprise twist. As it stands your character kinda just takes it as is and doesn't really react at all..."
To give feedback, add a post in this thread with the name or number of the prompt for which you are leaving the feedback as well as the name of the writer.
*RULE 04 - Word Limits
I don't want to be strict, but I do want to point out that using each prompt for only 3-6 lines is a bit wasteful. I don't want to instil a word limit as I feel that that would be limiting a person's scope.
 
However, the idea is to challenge yourself. You are your own competition. So please, don't just write a few lines for each and every prompt and consider it 'done'. At least aim to make it harder on yourself, if only to push your skills to grow.​
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Prompts:-
Keep it in the Character
Last month we played with our own characters, but this month we're going to flip that. This month we're playing with other people's characters with the main goal to keep them in character. The characters we're using? Your fellow game-makers' cast. Pick any RM game you've played recently and try to remain true to the cast. You may choose more than one game and more than one character, but try to keep them as in-character as you can while writing to the prompts below. Good luck~

01 - Little Sighs
02 - Remembrance
03 - A Play on Words
04 - Like Diamonds
05 - Smiles
06 - Limbo
07 - Fantastical Beasts
08 - Way Back
09 - Love in Whispers
10 - Of Tales and Truths
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Copy below code and post for easy set-up.
Prompt: Little SighsPrompt: RemembrancePrompt: A Play on WordsPrompt: Like DiamondsPrompt: SmilesPrompt: LimboPrompt: Fantastical BeastsPrompt: Way BackPrompt: Love in WhispersPrompt: Of Tales and Truths

Posts
 
 
 


Topics

01 : 02 : -- : 04 : 05 : 06
07 : 08 : 09 : 10 : 11 : 12
 

 
 
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C-C-C-Cashmere

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Prompt: Little Sighs

Prompt: Remembrance

Prompt: A Play on Words

Prompt: Like Diamonds

Prompt: Smiles

This excerpt belongs to Beth from Labyrinthine Dreams (by Artbane and Volrath). I took some liberty with the facts of the game's relationships, but still trying to preserve the spirit of the game's content with the strength of her character's relationship with her father. Enjoy.


Smiles are what my father used to give to me when I was young. He raised me mostly as a polite daughter, teaching me the manners of eating at dinner tables (elbows down, wrists up!), and the knowledge of etiquette required to stay around our wider family and still thrive with sanity. He was not a man to show love to me or the other siblings, but he did what he could to make sure we survived. Altercations between us were as commonplace in our house as rain during a flood, varying from the unintentionally hilarious to the downright nasty and foul. Most did not end well. I swear that the yelling bothered our neighbours more times than I could ever count, and yet we did not receive a single complaint as far as I was aware of.


I was the middle child of our family of five. We moved out to the countryside after my sickly mother had claimed to inherit hermit-like behaviour from the manufacturing plant's pollution. Father, having agreed to my mother's every request since back when they had tied bonds in the summer of '64, complied placidly. His thriving accountancy firm was shut down without any prior notice, much to the confusion of his dedicated clientele.


I wondered if my father would ever show me the same love that he did his beloved wife, since he had been the one passionate enough to grant me and my other siblings the gift of life on this hard earth. Was he a person to sacrifice anything at all for us? It seemed not. Mostly, my childhood consisted of me not being sure that I wanted to exist anymore, forcing me to take inward measures against making friends of good people. Even friendly people, I'd say. Those who wished to draw close to me as a person I would push away.


Now I'm drained of colour and my father is not to be seen. My once rosy cheeks drained from me; my blood flow slowing by the minute. I find it hard to smile in a situation like this. Even all these years later, I am still offended by the fact of my father not becoming the dad that he should have been. I keep reassuring myself that I can't be so harsh on my parentage. After all, they had set up a good life for me and my siblings. But when a woman is reduced to nothing and forced to feed off a drip on her death bed, the most clear facts start to crystallize, as she begins realize to what she had refused to see for so many years.


I am forgotten. I am a nothing. A vapour in this dusty world set to vanish in a second, and I am not sure I quite like it. The weirdest thing is, if the love given to me is weighed up on a scale against the love I had given to others, my balance may not even be positive. I am sure that death, ever coming closer, relishes its victory over my hollowed and sickly body. Yet I must welcome it freely, just like everything that has happened to me in life. The world continues to ragdoll me. I am helpless in a torrent of waves and flying debris.


My father bursts through the door. I can see the tears on his cheeks. I feel cheated by the sadness that I feel for him right now. Seconds earlier I was mad at my father, but as he bursts through, feelings of compassion pass my mind. I push them away, determining to make stoicism my stand.


"Dad! I thought I said I didn't want you here. Mom told me she told you," I say.


"She's not here right now, you don't have to worry about her," he says. He sits right by my hospital bed and calmly strokes my hair. I look out the window at a sunny day I cannot walk out into. Instead rays beat at me through glass, the greenhouse fear gripping my soul. I am going to be burned alive in the pit of my own submission to the sickness of apathy.


He continues to stroke my hair with his withered fingers.


"You've grown up so fast, Beth. When did that happen? It must have been while I was at work." His face when I was younger softened, revealing that standing inner man inside. The one that always cared for us, even if I could not admit it. The man who taught table manners, and the Bible, and how to cure raw fish with lemons. How to listen to music (he liked the old classics: Steely Dan, The Doobie Brothers, The Talking Heads), how to whistle using a blade of grass on the knoll overlooking Stanmore Beach. That one time when he stopped me on my way to school and asked if I was enjoying myself - had I made any friends? And I lied "yes", and he accepted that because that was how he was, a generous man with very little to say and a big heart.


Dad finished his monologue. By this time I was sitting upright, just staring into the duvet, wondering what to feel.


"Part of me kind of hoped you would turn up," I heard myself say.


"I wasn't sure whether I should have come," my father said. "I apologise if this visit seems uncomely."


My gaze turned to my father. Old now, his organs probably functioning better than my wracked body could handle. I saw my father smile. He did not often smile, but he was smiling here. I felt a glimmer of hope in my insides. Maybe things would be right again. Maybe I could get through this.


I smiled back.


We hugged, and father said he had to leave for a meeting to start his accountancy firm back up again. I congratulated him, and he left the door open a slight crack so that I could still see the sliver of light against the now night sky.


I don't smile often anymore, but I can still remember my father's reassuring hand on my knee as he gave me a light kiss on the forehead. Even if I can no longer grant the physical energy to lift my cheeks... I can still smile inside.
Prompt: Limbo

Prompt: Fantastical Beasts

Prompt: Way Back

Prompt: Love in Whispers

Prompt: Of Tales and Truths

 
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wallacethepig

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Prompt: Little Sighs [Game: It's a Long Way to Heaven by TheBrogrammer. This is kind of cheating because I made the battle system for that game, but it counts because I didn't write any of the story/come up with the characters. Also spoilers for those who haven't played it.] {WIP}

How come Adam never wanted to play with me? I mean, sure, sometimes building robots is hard. But that's the fun of it! Getting something to work after putting in effort – there's no better feeling in the world than that. At least, that's what I thought. Adam thought it was boring.
 
Adam Davis. Such a mysterious person. Why does he place so much importance on entertainment? And how come he hasn't gone insane yet? He's been trapped in this hole for four years now. Four years! That's a long time to be doing nothing. He hasn't tried to starve himself, he hasn't tried to injure himself in any way. Physical torture would defeat the purpose of the experiment, but the temptation is greater now than it was when I started.
 
I don't know how to crack him. I've tried exploiting all of his known weaknesses, but nothing seems to faze him. I've lied to him about his family, telling him his wife died in a nuclear war. He didn't seem to care. Do you want to know what he said when I told him that? "Boring! EVERYONE dies in a nuclear war! Of course she's dead, what did you expect, Voice?" I think I tore out some of my hair on that one. I think I need to entertain him – he's the one driving ME crazy now. But what to build...I know! A time machine! I'll start working on it right away.
Hang on...If I can influence Adam Davis to tell his younger self not to bully me, I wouldn't have to suffer through this agony. I just hope he'll be able to defeat the paradoxia. And if he can't? Well then. At least I'll be rid of him.
Prompt: Remembrance

Prompt: A Play on Words

Prompt: Like Diamonds

Prompt: Smiles

Prompt: Limbo

Prompt: Fantastical Beasts

Prompt: Way Back

Prompt: Love in Whispers

Prompt: Of Tales and Truths

 
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