No more than 3 chapters?


Clear and concise?




role + I am stevers. I am a warrior because I grew up in warriortown, USA. I will specialize in swords because they are so pointy, ouch ouch.

role add


role + I will be going nexus because balance is good. I think balance is good because I was told it was.

role add


role + Ive decided to have my second spec as maces because I like them. They are big and tough. Youchie boo boo.


role add





Maybe I'm just mad because I spend time writing more than 3 chapters at a time, and I feel slighted.

Still, though, clear and concise seems like a copout for not wanting to read a lot of roles

My last RC, I had 84 contestants. Did I read every chapter of every
character? Hell no. In fact, I automatically cut out anyone below
level 20 or less than 20 hours old as a way to get it down to a more
manageable number.

Anliltuel decided to announce his restrictions, but he could have just
as easily not and only judged people with 3 chapters or less anyway.

This is why it's perfect fantastic that we have someone different
running the contest every month - different strokes for different
folks. I can guarantee you plenty of people dislike my role writing
style. It's just a matter of entering every month until you find
someone that enjoys it. :P

But, yes, I'd rather know that I lost because I didn't meet the criteria of having a 3 or less chapters than because he didn't like my role

I think my roles are often unique and clever, but I lack the story teller's flair or the desire to write novels so my roles tend to be quite direct and to the point.

Most people with really short, to the point roles of less than three role chapters don't seem to really win role contests very much, or get a ton of imm exp/other rewards. Perhaps this is an appeal to a different kind of writer.

I hope not. On the RC side of things sure, great roles should be rewarded but I hope IMMs try to reward characters more for their RP than their role. As I said the main reason I keep mine short is because I know I'm no great story teller and I don't want to bore the reader.

Having said that though I have come runner up a couple of times in role contests, although the comments always mentioned it was brief.

I wrote 4-8 chapters for all my characters. I am not going to say
how I feel about making 3 chapter maxinum part of this RC other than
Wtf. Spent a lot of time writing my roles, About 20 hours rl atleast
so I could have a chance at placing. Hah!

Spent about 20 hours on my last role.

No RP whatsoever, powergamers, and people who don't put much stock in their characters and will delete soon. I don't agree with rewarding them.

But then again, Iunna makes a perfect point and it's just the way it is.

People have been adding long roles for some time now just to get the exp. (I'm not saying this is the only reason they do it.)

Roles have also turned into a story contest, rather than adhering to what they were originally meant to do, which was to explain behaviour etc.

Let someone type up a huge story. If it doesn't reflect who they are, why they are, or give any other insight (align, ethos, cabal, spec, path, foci, whatever) then let them suffer by receiving minimal imm exp.

The story tellers of CF with 10+ role chapters shouldnt be disregarded from a role contest.

If the ROLE dictates their ROLE in CF, why can't it be drawn out through story?

After all, isn't that a bit like what CF is? One (skillfully) drawn out, interactive book?

Probably because I made the point badly.

People should get rewarded when they don't write stories. However, in practice, these people never have been, despite that the stated aim of the role command is to communicate information rather than be a story.

People who write stories WILL get rewarded for it, since most other role contests reward this. The fact that this contest is different just helps to reward the people who otherwise would get nothing despite the fact that they are using the role command in the way that it is stated that it should be used.

.

Rayihn once said she likes roles to be bite sized, like only one screen long, due to the spam imms get.

As such, I like to write my roles to be in sections that long, so therefore I might have 5 role chapters that take up the space offered by 2 role chapters.

I would say make it more based on character count than number of chapters.

Spacing in roles means a lot for some people

Rayihn is not the immortal running this role contest. I like roles to be short and to the point. I do not know how many characters (letters) allowed per role chapter. Given that you can conceivably write several large paragraphs per chapter, a well-developed role that is both insightful and interesting is perfectly viable.

>I do not know how many characters (letters) allowed per role chapter.
Everything is limited to 3000 characters according to Zulgh.


My question is this: Could you explain what do you mean by no more than 3 role chapters, please? Does this mean you're just going to read the 3 most recent chapters of someone's role and nothing else? Assuming they added more than 3 new chapters since the last role contest or are a new character created between role contests with more than 3 role chapters.


EDIT: I feel like such a jerk that I forgot the please in my question. So I added it in.

Let's assume that the role chapter consists of one paragraph, five to ten lines or so?

How many of these are allowed in contrast to longer chapters consisting of several paragraphs? Maybe you could count these as half a chapter instead of full chapter?

Not sure why people are having a hissy fit. They don't have to enter nor is the contest something that we have to host. It is a nice little 'player appreciation' kinda thing that we take the time to do.

If you want to only include roles that have some sort of rape or other similar things in it (read Borkahdy), or mention the color purple, more power to you! Don't let the haters get you down. >:)

Theme: Rape. Roles with rape in them will be considered more so than those without it.


Restriction: Roles above 3 chapters can not win.

nt

thanks a lot bud

Nt

It's blowback against the trend of people writing novels as their roles. A role shouldn't need to be "literary" (or long) in order to be rewarded. It should explain a character's background and motivations. A character's background and motivations need not stem from a long, convoluted plot involving intrigue and lots of drama that takes eight chapters to write.

If you're level 51 with three role chapters, either you're a villager or a shifter.

BUUURN ;)

If you're a higher level, you're pretty much exempt from the contest, which doesn't seem right.

But it's their RC, so they get to do what they want.

How do you keep your role current and describe things that would affect your character, without taking up space? Let me describe something to you that happened to me just last night.

I showed up to get an MRI done, at this place that specializes in seated style MRI's. It was about 630 pm when I got there, because I worked 7-3 that day, and I work an hour from home, and this was the soonest I could get cleaned up and get in there, so it was fairly dark when I pulled up.

I walked in, and was greeted by this creepy looking security guard with a 70's pornoesque douchestache. He seemed friendly enough and we chatted while I filled out my paperwork. He asked what I do for a living, and when I told him we talked about the security industry and different companies we had worked for. When they called me back, I had a slightly more favorable impression of him, but he still set off my creep-dar rather loudly for some reason.

The woman led me back, and had me strip to my boxers (not briefs, the boys need room to breathe), take out my nipple ring and put on a gown. This unfortunately wasn't a normal hospital gown but a bright powder blue scrub style gown. I looked REAL gay, and figured the night was as bad as it would get. I was wrong.

As she led me into the MRI room, she handed me a hair net, of the same color as the gown. I raised an eyebrow at her, since I have short hair, but she just said I had to put it on. Policy. Then she went and opened a rather large cabinet, and inside were thick plastic rings and my first thought was that they looked like collars for slaves. Yeah, guess what she started doing then. Yep. Taking different collars out and trying them on me, to see which one fit best.

I pointed out to her that I had seen Planet of the Apes, and she wasn't fooling me. That if Dr. Zaius jumped out at me, I was going to kick his dirty-ape ass. She laughed and then told me to wait till she put the leash on me. I thought she was kidding. She wasn't. There was in fact a long plastic leash that she attached to the collar, before sitting me in this chair.

So there I sit in my homosexual finery, wearing a thick, heavy collar (I suspect they were lead filled for some reason, or possibly magnetic because the collar was frigging HEAVY) and leash, thinking THIS was truly as bad as it could get. Wrong again, Doug.

She starts to lower this thing, that looked vaguely like a white plastic crown of thorns on a long arm. After it was in place around my head, I noticed a single long crank extending from the center of the contraption, which she tightened down some on my head, leaving about 9 inches of white plastic protruding from the front of my head. I was now the most fabulously powder-blue unicorn on a leash and collar to have ever lived. I was immediately grateful that my daughter wasn't there with me, because she would have no doubt pointed this out and called me something like "Princess" or "Bluebelle", and asked to have me fitted for a saddle.

So the tech then informs me that they do this sitting style of MRI because it's a stress position for the back, the way they have you positioned, and they do this to show how the spine looks under stress. She said laying down MRI's are inferior, and she's sorry but they are going to make me really uncomfortable for the duration. I didn't realize when we started that the duration would be *3* frigging hours. Needless to say, there was much gimping as Bluebelle went into the stable and turned back into my normal macho self, sans my dignity.

The tech told me I had to wait a few minutes while they proofed my films, and told me to wait in the waiting room. My new buddy the security guard was there, waiting for me with a creepy smile, a handshake, and the disclosure that he liked to collect WWII Nazi memorabilia. But not just ANY memorabilia. SS memorabilia. Guns, daggers, bayonets, helmets, and the prize of his collection? An SS armband, worn by a commandant of a concentration camp, as he was being executed after the war. Yeah, my night was going just great.

After this little revelation, the floodgates were opened and he told me all about how he wishes we could hunt people who deserve it, and how the people he seemed to think deserved it were mostly people who he had worked for, who in his eyes had wronged him, and I was afraid a manhug was coming, when the receptionist came out with my films.

The capper to my evening was being escorted to my car (technically my wife's car, mine was destroyed about 2 weeks ago) by this psycho and his mustache, and having him pat my hip as I got into my wifes Escalade. Then I got to drive home, taking my abject and utter humiliation and discomfort with me.

This was 3 hours of my life, and aside from the deep desire to sleep clutching my gun last night, lest the nutjob come for me in my sleep, not exactly a life changing experience. I would think the life changing events that go into a role would be a little more in depth. Otherwise my whole story would have been "Had an MRI last night. It sucked". Yeah you get that I had an MRI and it sucked, but you lose the details and flavor of the story by keeping it too brief.

All this being said, it's Anliltuel's role contest to run however he wants. Don't like it, don't enter. But longer, detailed, well written role entries will ALWAYS be more entertaining than their shorter well written counterparts. Everyone likes a good story afterall. ESPECIALLY about gay blue unicorns.

nt

In fact, that story was so good that I would like to request, if you're feeling up to it, the story of the accident that led up to this incident and an update regarding the mysterious Haitian who ran you off the road.

How fast were you going? What was the douchebag driving? Did you roll the Jag? Who was first on scene? Etc...

As I may have mentioned, I work over an hour from home. Because of this I get up at 4:45 every morning, get myself ready, then leave for work about 5:45. I'm supposed to be at work by 7, I'm usually there about 10 minutes early, sometimes earlier, sometimes a bit later, but I give myself that extra time just because I know it's such a long ass drive and even a slight delay on I95 can mean the difference between being on time and being 20 minutes late. Being that I'm the boss, I can't very well show up late, then rip my guys if they do it.

I was on my way to work, and coming up on my exit. Since I got married, and I'm a husband and father now, I don't speed. Haven't gotten a single speeding ticket since I started dating my wife actually. Even at my fastest, I don't do more than 5 mph over the speed limit, and since my exit was coming up I was actually doing about 55, which is 10 below the posted 65 here in S. Florida. I was in the center lane, and slowing when a car came flying up next to me. I wasn't like, right on top of my exit, so I just maintained my 55 and was waiting for him to pass, when he started to inch over towards my lane. When I saw him start to come over the line, I honked my horn, but just as I was pressing down he cut over sharply into my lane. It wasn't even like the horn startled him or anything, it was like a simultaneous thing.

Being that I pay attention to things for a living, and I'm always aware of what the cars around me are doing, I knew there wasn't anyone else in either of the 2 lanes to my left (1 regular, one HOV) so I knew I could cut to my left to try and avoid him, and not run into anyone so that's what I did. It had rained a bit the night before, and the road was still slightly damp, but I guess it was enough because as I cut left my car fishtailed. As I fishtailed, he slammed on his brakes, and my car cut in a big arc in front of his car, and my left drivers side front end slammed into the concrete retaining wall and then, because of the momentum from my fishtail, my rear end slammed into the wall, and shot me back out, now going north in the southbound lane. While my car was impacting the wall, he flew past me.

Well my car came to a stop in the center lane, facing north. My seatbelt was choking me, I had a pressure in my chest that wasn't helping (the seat belt ####ed my ribs up pretty good. I NEVER bruise, and I'm still black and blue where it bit into me) my head had impacted with my roof (I have a very VERY long torso. I'm 6'3", my wife is 5'10" and her legs are way longer than mine. Makes buying suits real interesting.) and left a huge goose-egg on top of my head, and I was really dazed. I couldn't get my car door to open, or the seat belt to release, so I grabbed the knife I keep in my back pocket and cut the belt, grabbed my Ipod out of the deck (I mention this for a reason I'll explain later)then kicked the door till it opened enough for me to flop out, and start crawling across I95.

As I was crawling across the road, a couple of cars went by and swerved to avoid me and my car alternately. I looked up to see if he had stopped, and he had probably about 75 feet down the road. But as soon as he saw me looking at him, he took off like a shot. After I made it to the side of the road, I just sort of flopped down, and things get a little bit hazy for a few minutes. I don't remember the next few minutes, but I apparently got my cell phone out and called, in this order, my work site to tell them what had happened, my wife, and my boss (I didn't realize any of this till I checked after the accident). By this time someone had stopped and was standing over me, and about 2 minutes later the road ranger pulled up behind my car and put their big hazard lights on. I doubt they were called, I think they just happened to have been heading that way and were like, RIGHT behind me at the time.

A couple of other truck drivers stopped to check on me, but only the first guy (who was also a trucker if his demeanor was anything to go by) stayed with me until the paramedics got there. The way they kept looking at me, and then back at the car, I knew they were a little surprised that I looked relatively intact (my Blazer and slacks were a total loss, and I was covered in iced latte' since my goddamned drink exploded when I hit the wall) except for the fact that I couldn't sit or stand, and my head and nose were bleeding a very little bit.

I don't remember this, they told me about it at the ER later (one of the paramedics also worked at the ER i got taken to, and came on shift after he left his EMT job, and swung by to talk to my wife and I) but I was adamant that the paramedics get my Ipod from the car. I didn't realize I had it in my pocket till later. (Wait for it, I'll explain later) They grabbed my laptop bag, lunch bag, and for some reason my GPS, and loaded me in the ambulance. I asked them to call my wife for me and tell her where we were going, because by this point I was on a backboard and in a neck brace that covered my ears, and I couldn't put the phone up to my ear. I was a bit more lucid by this point, and the paramedic gave my wife the name of the hospital we were heading to, and kept me talking because I kept trying to go to sleep.

When we got to the ER, I started freaking out, because there was iced latte all over my computer bag, and I'm not supposed to be drinking them. (I'm dieting pretty seriously, and my wife is adamant that I stick to only one iced coffee drink per week. I had already had one, but I stopped that morning to get one and a piece of coffee cake because my vitamins were tearing my stomach up something fierce) They seemed to think it was pretty goddamned funny that there I was, apparently all broken, laying on a stretcher and backboard, in a neck brace, god only knows what wrong with me, and I'm worried about pissing off my wife. These guys were so beyond cool that after they got me in my room, one of them came in and said "Just remember, Rescue 3 is the BEST paramedic unit in the country" as he wiped off my bags with alcohol swabs to remove the coffee smell and stains for me.

I was pretty in and out of it for a while, and I guess about a half an hour went by before my wife showed up. I was still fairly out of it, and started telling her I had to tell her something before anything else happened, then confessed that I had stopped and gotten coffee cake and coffee. (I really don't lie to my wife, I'd rather deal with the fallout than guilt) Of course by then the paramedic had gone from his EMT job to his hospital job, and was standing there laughing. He and the nurses told my wife how badly I was freaking out about her finding out, and here I was blabbing about it to her as soon as she came through the door. I told him I just wanted her to hear it from me, not to see it for herself and think she caught me.

After that were some emergency tests, (X rays and CAT scans) that took about 30 minutes. I was really impressed with how well they all worked and how fast it all happened. When they wheeled me back in my wife was white as a sheet and really looked shaken. I figured she was just worried, and she said that yeah she was worried but she had just been talking to the state trooper who caught my case. The trooper told her if I hadn't been driving such a solidly built, all metal car (A 91 Jaguar Vanden Plaas, Chesapeake special edition. My birthday present from my wife. Let me digress for a moment and say just how totally awesome this car was. 20 years old, and looked like it had just rolled off the line. Didn't need paint or any interior work, didn't even need a goddamned wash. All it needed was a conversion to the new freon, and a better stereo deck. We got the AC fixed right away and my wife had just had a stereo put in for fathers day not even a week before. So all in all I got to enjoy my car for a little less than a week with all the tiny imperfections ironed out. You know, break my back and all but did he HAVE to ruin my goddamned Jag? Okay digression over.) I would have been killed, no question. If I had been driving my 02 Mustang, which I had before this, I would have not even been able to crawl away. Well now I knew why she looked the way she did.

The Trooper told me they had a witness to the accident, who saw the whole thing. He said the guy had cut him off and almost run him off the road about a minute before he did this to me, and that when he saw the accident he sped up and got his tag and a description of the guy. He said just like when he had cut him off, the guy was on his cell phone. While she was talking to my wife, they got my X rays back and came in to take off the neck brace. When they did, and my wife helped me with my blazer, my Ipod fell out onto the floor. My daughter picked it up and handed it to me, and when I turned it on to see if it was still working, my notepad was up and it said "785 silv honda". I showed it to the Trooper and she said that was the first 3 digits of the guys tag as given by the witness, and the type and color of the car.

Let me explain. I have a bit of a bad habit, probably brought on by years of having to record facts and memorize events exactly as they happened. When someone cuts me off, swerves, or generally does anything that draws my attention to their car, I look for the tag number, and repeat it over and over in my head. Sometimes I'll call FHP if it's something especially dangerous (especially if my daughter is in the car), but usually I just drive myself ####ing nuts repeating some random assholes tag number over and over to myself in my head. When he started coming over, I must have grabbed as much of his tag as I could see in my head, and then out of reflex grabbed my Ipod and jotted down what I could remember. This is a habit I've had for AGES. My Ipod notebook is full of all kinds of useless jotted down ####. Phone numbers with no names, addresses I don't remember having ever been to and don't know what they match up to, all kinds of utterly random stupid #### I think is important at the time and jot down. The time stamp on the note was from just before the time stamp on my call to work, so I apparently grabbed my Ipod, and either crawled over to the side and jotted it down, or did it before I kicked the door open. Either way it matched the witnesses statement perfectly. Even so, they declined to file charges, since there had been no physical contact between our cars, and encouraged me to go after him in civil court. (I have since been trying to get them to file charges, because obviously this idiot is going to kill someone someday, and shouldn't be driving around. It's a work in progress.)

I told the trooper his head shape was round, so he was probably either Jamaican or Haitian. I'll spare you from the rather racist remarks I made about the probability of a Haitian being able to afford that sort of car (was an 08 Honda in really nice shape, probably one owner and bought new). Turns out (according to my lawyer) he IS in fact Haitian, but was born here, unlike the other 5 billion some odd Haitians in South Florida.

As things stand now, I had that horrific MRI last night, and I'm still waiting on the results. I'm generally in a whole lot of pain, because I can't take anything aside from Naproxyn and drive that far for work safely. So pretty much from 5am till about 5pm, I hurt a lot. I didn't have a whole lot of feeling below the neck before the accident, and as things stand now I have far less. I really don't feel my feet and only barely feel my hands at this point, and my coordination is even worse now than it was before. A lot of this may just be swelling, or might be spinal damage. I'll probably find out tomorrow or Monday when the MRI report is delivered. My ribs were cracked from the seat belt, but not broken.

We both had Geico insurance, but I carried only minimal coverage and no collision. (Wife changed the policy without me knowing it when we got the Jag. Ugh. We had a rather nasty fight about her cheapery going to kill me yet.) This all happened as we were looking to move to PA within the next month or so, so as you can imagine this is all just REALLY inconvenient timing. (Have I mentioned just how PISSED I am about my car? RATR!@#:Uhc243fr;l22fxdli4hfiq3lhq3s4wi7lhf432s7lnh972s44p8s4f!!!!!!!)

No the Jag didn't roll, she gave up her life to save mine, and Jaguar has already gotten a letter from me (As did the hospital, trooper and paramedics) thanking them. I never did have much luck with Swedish chics anyway. Unless you count Dur. Meh.

http://s107.photobucket.com/albums/m316/vlad469/Jag/

Hrmm... I was sure I had a pile more before pics. I'll add more as I find them. Probably on my laptop. But you can see the destruction anyway.

I hope you can get some satisfaction out of the POS.

Despite how I come off when I get pissed off and post really nasty ####, I'm a really laid back relaxed sort of guy. I just happen to have a bit of sand in my vagina over some long-ago #### in relation to CF, and sometimes I lose perspective when posting about a (real or simply imagined) slight. My wife is really the tough one in our relationship, and it pisses her off no end because I'm kind of an easy mark for people with a hard luck story or who may not have the best intentions, who I trust. Charity work has always figured rather large in my life, until the last few years anyway.

My last thought before my car hit the wall was that I was about to make a widow out of my wife and take away, as my daughter put's it "Her favorite daddy". She's my step-daughter, but I've never thought of her as anything but mine since the first time she asked if she could call me daddy, and we have a MUCH closer relationship than she has with her biological father. She's never even heard me raise my voice, whereas my wife she is used to hearing yell all the time. These days I'm really something of a softie(one reason I have so goddamned many cats, I just can't turn down a stray), I mean, before I met my wife and became a father, I would have taken the guys info from the accident report, and started planning how to burn his house down and get away with it.

Of course Meta (my wife) wants to take him for every cent of his and his children's future earnings. But then she was the one who almost lost her husband.

But, ultimately, the ball's in your court. At the very least, though, you should do everything in your power to see that he loses his license. Not that it will stop him from driving, but when he inevitably does the same #### to someone else you'll know that you did everything in your power to prevent it.

If this were a role, you'd probably get Eyes in the Back of Your Head.

oh