[Icey]

Here I was thinking....

Hey, wouldn't it be cool creating a small universe in the screening room where people would collaborate at controlling the lives of people through diary writing based on loose rules and a structure.

when I decided that I should give it a shot and see if there's interest for it. I would think that the only rules would bee concerning deadlines, timeframe and usage of other people's characters. (like no killing off characters you did not craft without consulting the owner, granted that the person has added to the story for the last month)
Having a rotating 'day starter' scheduel (first person to start a new day in the world of diaries)
And when a new day should start (4-7 days is reasonable, surely)

Any takers?

[Otal Nimrodi]

What would this be now? I don't understabd, But I'm feeling weird. Wait for me to be sane.

[Icey]

Like, someone starts with a diary entry, someone adds another entry, maybe involving that entry and adding some interaction with a random passerby, the third one ACTUALLY is that random passerby so his entry would include that. All based upon original characters, would allow us to have just characters we've crafter from mayhabs different backgrounds universes bumping into each other and creating chaos. Would also be an excellent practice for just plain writing.

[Otal Nimrodi]

Okay, gotcha. Somebody start, I'll post when I'm feeling sane.

[Mirithorn]

Ohh. First I thought it was people randomely writing diary entries, then I thought it was a game where someoene wrote a diary entry for someone else and they had to make it happen.... *shakes head* Okay, I think I've got it now. I'm up for it.

[Chyld]

Sounds like fun. I'll follow someione elses lead if I think of something...

[Marky]

I still don't really get it, but will join in the second I understand.

[Icey]

17th of April 2005

Dear Diary.

I know I've said it about a thousand times before, but I'm pretty sure I have the room mate from hell. I was taking a post-breakfast leak before heading out for work, when I saw him hiding in the shower, wearing his worn old robes. "I see all, I see you pee!"
"God! Can you get out of there?" I shouted, trying not to miss my mark, trying to find something to throw at him.
"Mkay." He replied and lazily walked out, I tried to throw the plunger at him but missed. Thankfully I only hit his crap.

Work managed to calm me down. I busted some punk teenager trying to nick a CD from a record store at the mall. And when I confronted him, he bolted. I jumped into my "Mall Security-Mobile" and sped after him, the engine roaring. I managed to catch up to him and smacked him right in the neck. He went down, and smashed into the glass that keeps people away from falling off the edge of the fifth floor of the mall. Great day of mall security for sure. I threw his unconscious body into the back of the cart and drow him to the little office. I was hoping he was old enough to press charges, to blacken his slade.
No dice, unfortunatly. Told my boss he tripped and hit his head against the glass while I was chasing him. Filed a report and got him on the mall-blacklist. Other than that nothing really happened beyond the usual. Hit on some of the high school students that hang out here and caught a glimpse under the skirt of one o'em, I think her name is Amy. Caused some stiffness. When I got home, God wasn't there so that's good. Might go out with some of the boys at work tonight.

-Laters
Floyd Whipple.

This post has been edited by Icey: 24 November 2005 - 10:49 AM

[Chyld]

So, just so I've got this straight, you're making entries now for the security guard, we've got to come up with entries for other people on the same day, possibly involved in that entry. Me right?

[Icey]

Aye aye, they don't even have to be directly involved or involved at all. Just existing in the same sphere as him, to have the option of characters bumping into each other open.

[Slade]

April 17th, 2005 CE

Dear diary,

8am
Today's going to be an ugly day, I can feel it. The metal plate that I never got put in my head in 'Nam is throbbing again. It's going to be cold and drab, with a slight chance of hail... No wait, three throbs means freezing rain.

8:15am
I knew it... I turned my head and discovered a woman I'd never seen before lying next to me with a soft smile on her face and an axe in the back of her head. Actually, I'd never had a woman in my bed period, so I was too shocked to even feel her up in desperation caused by loneliness. The moment I leapt out of bed, I tripped over my shoes and landed in my razor blade collection. On the bright side, I won't need to shave until my skin grows back. Oh, the police are here. Maybe they can sort things out.

10:37am
Finally out of the questioning room. It was quite embarrasing having to get hauled into the police station in nothing but an immodest bathrobe, but using some advanced crime scene techniques (they discovered that there's no way I could swing an axe, given how bad my carpel tunnel is, let alone lodge it into the skull of a beautiful young woman). Hopefully my boss will understand when I get to work.

11:52am
Well, my boss could only have been less understanding if he was speaking Esperanto and I was clicking like an African Bushman. I'm now out of a job, depressed, almost a nervous wreck, and my rent is due tomorrow. Oh wait. My house is a crime scene, and I have no money for a hotel room. Maybe I'll be able to camp out at the mall. The scrawny security guard knows me, he might be able to help out. And if all else fails, there's always the gun shop...

1:05pm
I just had the best afternoon ever. I bribed some stupid kid to steal a CD out of a store for me, and timed it so my friend Floyd, a security guard, could chase him down in those stupid glorified golf carts they use when the guards don't feel like walking. I told Floyd what happened to me this morning and he let me ride his cart. We chased people around most of the day. OH! And there's this SWEEEEEEET Magic Eye poster of a sailboat on display. It's time for Taco Bell.

7:23pm
I'm cold and hungry. Some creepy little girls were hitting on me earlier as they walked by. I'm still not sure if they were making fun of me or serious... Either way, they're about 10 years too young to be my type. It's raining, and I'm curled up on the street in my coat under my umbrella. Apparently my income is too low for the police to support my hotel stay. That's what I get for not being affluent, I guess. I've also been kicked in the ribs twice, and the plate that's not in my head is throbbing so much that I can barely think straight.

11:01pm
A friendly and attractive young burnette found me huddled on a bench and sat down to talk with me in the cold downpour. I explained my plight and she has offered me a place to stay the night - her couch. I'm a bit wary, as I'd rather not have my skin end up as a lamp shade, but at this point I figure "What the hell? It can't get much worse." And no diary, the possiblity that anything will happen tonight besides me sleep in a warm and dry place hasn't entered my mind. I'm not the sort of guy that's attractive and charming enough to even get a date, let alone have a woman pick me up on the street when I've been out in the rain for hours and haven't eaten anything substantial since lunch. She's getting impatient, so I'd better head out. I'll write you later, assuming I'm not slashed up.

Here's to the world taking a break from punching me in the face,
Dan Stevenson