Forums » Forum Games » Without Saying A Word

Ok, this is a game idea derived from a RPR dream I had some nights ago. How it works? Basically, you have your characters (no personal profiles, OCs only!) react to the character above, in a way that is IC (of course within the limits of RPR's General Forums rule, so keep contents appropriate and fun!) but without any spoken dialogue lines. Is the character above sad? You can give them a hug to cheer them up! Are they looking lost? You could hand them a map for directions! And so on, as long as your character does not utter a word (same goes for telepathic characters; no direct dialogue!). Use gestuality, expressions, inner thoughts!

Rules are pretty simple:

- NO direct dialogue

- NO one-liners, the fun in this particular game is getting a mind picture of how your character interacts with the character above them through gestures and thoughts! Make them shine through your post without them uttering a word!

- Respect RPR General Forum Games rules and regulations.

And that's pretty much it! I'll get started with one of my beanies, feel free to throw in yours after!

(Molly)

The blond grizzly squinted her eyes looking around. It seemed there was no one about. Quiet days, huh? Not her favorite kind - she liked noise and chaos, especially if she was the one wrecking it - but... hey, whatever! She brought her bike to a stop, and the engine's roar faded as the massive biker hopped off it with unsuspecting prowess. For being such a large lady, Molly was comfortable with her body and moved with great ease, even if people tended to be more than a little wary of the towering bear.

Drawing a beer bottle from her back pocket she uncapped it with a massive claw and took a long, happy swig. Now, to see what the new day would bring...

The little Galka had been standing outside of The Mandragora's Head Inn to offer some of the food he'd made, but it seemed he wandered off. Surely Ganzigg wouldn't mind, he thought. He played around Windurst Waters all the time! He knew his way around. Except he didn't quite know where. . . this place was.

He looked around with a furrowed browline, still carrying a wooden platter of snacks his both hands. A frown painted on his features, which bore his tiny tusks a bit further. He wandered for a bit, seeking someone out until he finally spied. . . a huge bear creature! Was it a beastman? Could they be evil? The Alliance of Altana made peace with the beastmen though, right?

Ganzigg said it costs no gil to be nice, so that was what Zidah did. The Galkan child waddled over to Molly, already half her height despite his age. He lifted the platter up to her, which held some Iron Bread crostini with pepper jam and dhalmel cheese. He'd made it himself, as Ganzigg was teaching him how to be a great cook. Plus, Ganzigg did the crostini cutting for him and Zidah spread the jam with a spoon. It was totally safe!

Zidah gave a practiced little smile, revealing the gap in his teeth as he gently shook the tray for Molly to help herself!

Mono was walking down the path when he saw an inn, and heard the noise of merriment from within. Peeking through a window, he would notice how the whole environment was so relaxed and relax himself, pushing through the door. Upon entry, he noticed a small man with food on a tray. His hat was cute and he seemed happy, so Mono guessed he was offering food. Children usually had parents, right? Mono strolled up and took two whatever-with-jam-and-cheese things from the platter, walking right on by. Making as though he wanted to sit down, he kept an eye on Zidah, still worried. He touched the scarf he was wearing and grimaced, remembering the day he was turned into something less than mortal by a mortal. Bad things happened to those alone.

The appearance of The Wolf was as sudden as it was ominous. Standing upon a low ledge formed by a boulder he seemed to block the path of a trail the man was upon. His visage eclipsed brief rays of the sun as the rustle of a chilling wind followed him, blowing the wolven cloak upon his shoulders. His stature held the firmness of the mountains from which he hailed, his semblance that of a man well-versed in the brutal methods of war. His steel gaze, stark and stern did pierce into the very being of he which was before him, no gestures as of yet and then the right hand grasping the hilt of his sword, the pommel which was crafted to be of a lion's head radiated some mysterious aura as if it were cast from something beyond this realm much like the man that stood before Marcus. The eyes crafted into the lions head glew like embers.

Marcus knew. The question was where they went on from there, his expression was expectant much like a judge awaiting hearing, it was evident he wished for the stranger to make their case and that unlike so many others whom had reason to be daunted by the preternatural capacities of an orphaned void-born, he had none. It seemed unnerving that it felt like something of a practiced art, he seemed less of a weapon and more of a man and the weight of the determination and ferocity of all mortal kin radiated from him, the sort of aura that made one's mind hearken to the old tales of how distraught men would go on to slay their gods by sheer virtue of their will. The flame of vindication was made manifest and its avatar now stood before him, for even stars could learn to taste death.

However, Marcus did not view this as power but as responsibility, for he who paid heed to the laws of the realms had place yet in them and each was given its chance, part of his gaze held an unfathomable desire to destroy that which was before him and another held a sort of compassion. There was a case to be made here, a tale to be told. No, this man was not the face of death, he was the face of something altogether more stronger. Justice. Surely, the one before him didn't think that they would remain unanswerable forever. The window faded, the grasp tightened, now was his time to speak, the burden of friend or foe rested upon the words to follow, words to be spoken... by Mono.

Hume or Elvaan, Helielle was no stranger to the look of a soldier. Not only just because her father was a Royal Swordsman of San d'Oria, but because she was surrounded by them. Not only did they encircle her in protection as a child, but the Temple Knights walked the streets of the city, keeping a vigilant eye on all those who conducted their business there. Those who came and went. Those who lived and died.

She herself was adorned in the attire of those of the warrior profession. Red plating gave way to her muscular arms and narrow stomach, which some would see as a design flaw, but warriors saw as a way to enhance their flexibility. More room to strike out with.

Slowly, Helielle stepped over to Marcus' side. Seeing him so tense put her on edge, but someone of his caliber would know better than to swing at someone wielding a great-axe over half her body length for just approaching. Or maybe he didn't. In all honesty, he could probably best her in combat with ease; she was still, yet, a novice adventurer. Still, her body count was low. . . but still present.

A gloved hand patted his arm as she looked up to him - which wasn't a long way, considering she was only a few inches shorter than him. As if reassuringly, she gave him a smile, brows raising in some sort of unreadable emotion. Whatever it was, it didn't seem malicious.

Zofia Emerald was crouched outside in a garden, picking up a white flower and turning it in her hand. She turned with her school uniform on like always and entered the building. She was 5'8, tall for a woman. She was 20 years old and still looked around 18. She smiled softly as she turned the white flower in her hand. She was calm and elegant when she moved. She moved gracefully as a dancer. She seemed to wonder what this flower was. Her smile was still there when she sat down on the chair at the table and opened her backpack. She pulled out the white book like the one Horizon was always reading. She put the book down on the table and opened it. It had every info about this universe. She went to the flower section and was flipping through pages saying: Gods/Angels/Demons/Entities/Ghosts/Spirits/Kitsunes, and Etc. She blinked and found the flower section and kept turning the page to the one of this white flower in her right hand. She got to the page. It was called a Orchid. A fascinating flower. She had a liking to it. She smiled and put the flower behind her ear so it stuck out like Autumn always had hers. She blinked and then closed the white book and turned it gracefully before putting it back into her backpack. It was a black backpack that seemed like a school backpack. She yawned softly then zippered up the bag. She blinked and looked forward. She tilted her head at the menu then studied it in a second. She was very smart and 20 years old. She had around a 4.8gpa, and held it from 6th to 13th+ years. She blinked , already calculating it and figuring the whole menu out from front to back, immediately cataloguing the information and the foods and drinks. She catalogued a lift of the things she likes and dislikes. Her eyes were slightly unfocused as she made lists after lists of the menu, flipping the list over and then back again. She made pictures of every food and drink on the menu. she blinked as her eyes refocused. She didn't order anything yet. She just wanted to look and calculate, study everything around this place like she did with everywhere else. In the group of Noblewomen. She was known as the most studied, calculative, and examined type of person who keeps information everywhere she goes and stores it in her head. It seems dumb to do. But she remembers things that she did around 10 years ago when she was 10.

Warriors could sense other warriors. Whether it was the essence of lives taken or remanence of weapons that have tasted blood, warriors could sense one another.

Meph, a peasant from a far-off kingdom, whose parents had sold him off to the king of a Viking hoard when he was merely five, had been trained through brute force to become a highly successful killer on the battlefield. He towered above most as he stood at six feet five inches. He had long, blonde hair that was braided down his back, but no beard. He refused to let a beard grow. He adorned his body with a leather chest piece that hugged his massive torso. The leather was riddled with blade markings, showing he had seen more than his share of action on the battlefield. At his waist were twin battle axes, visually scratched and dented from being used to cleave bodies into pieces. Despite the look of a bloodthirsty brute, Meph had the gentlest demeanor imaginable. Though he was an adult male, his eyes were still capable of looking upon items new to him with the wonderment of a child. Don't think for one moment Meph was a simpleton, He might not be educated in anything but being a weapon for his king, he was anything but stupid.

It was with this wonderment playing about in his stormy grey eyes that he approached the other warrior. Meph didn't smile, it wasn't in his nature, but his eyes held no menace or anger. He reached for one of his twin axes from his belt and offered it to Helielle in exchange for hers. He had never seen such an axe and he wanted to examine it, with the intention of returning it to her promptly.