Forums » Forum Games » (IC) What is your character's opinion on ..?

“My opinion on rules depends on the rule and how it is being used. Generally, laws of the land I respect, but racist, homophobic, hateful rules in most any circumstance will be broken because I disrespect anyone who puts such rules in place.”

What is your opinion on smoking Marijuana?

A cackle rose from Marty's throat, low and raspy like the crinkle of wax paper held between thin, bony fingers. She flicked at a cigarette pressed firmly between her spidery digits, sprinkling some ash onto the floor as if it were snow. "If that's your storta thing, then fine." She shrugged, blowing a thin trail of smoke from her mouth.

One last puff, and Martyr put the coffin nail out, pressing the butt down into the thigh of her pants. A small, blackened circle would mark the spot where the (now) discarded cigarette had been. "I ain't never been one to judge if it's taken responsibly- be it smokin' or general consumption. Whatever gets you your kicks, ya'know? Unless others are visibly bothered by it." The demoness admitted dryly.

"I used to smoke, for the fuzz feelin'. I don't do it much now though, since it makes me break out into rashes and hives if I'm not careful. And uh-" She droned off, recalling something, "-Actually come'ta think of it, I don't smoke much at all these days. I try to keep things out when I have company around. Company tends to not like the smoke. Can't say I do much either. But anyways, back to weed, I sorta stopped when I found out a friend had bad reactions to psychedelics. I mean, real bad reactions. Kinda freaked me out a'bit when I found out."

There was an awkward turn in tone, and Martyr began to visibly fidget with the hems of her clothes; picking at the fraying threads with a sudden great interest. "So uh... Oh! What's your opinion on uh... shit, I dunno- rubber ducks? Cuz I think they're pretty neat-o, I guess."

"Rubber ducks? They're pretty cool. I like throwing them at my brothers' heads. And shooting them. Or putting them in random places in the house." --Johnny

"Huh? Oh, rubber ducks. They're okay. Not much use for them. My brothers are obsessed with them. My sister had a large collection of them when she was younger - thanks to my brothers." --Seth

"I LOVE RUBBER DUCKS!!! They're cute, and you can fill them with any liquid, and they're softish so they don't hurt-" Joshua lowers his voice to a whisper "-even though my brother thinks they do."

*the triplets football team-style huddle in deep conversation*

"My brothers and I would like to know what your opinion is on skateboarding," Seth says.

Her eyes flick, nervous as a rabbit, from one triplet to the next, unsure who to focus on despite Seth clearly being the one who chose to speak for the others once the question itself came out. The question, at least, was completely benign - so benign she couldn't help but laugh, immediately trying to hide it and the smile that fought its way onto her face despite her preference to remain somewhat stoic behind her hand.

Once the laughter quieted (or, rather, had been sufficiently muffled until she could sensibly respond without breaking out into more), Kira raises and drops her shoulders in an easygoing little shrug.

"I haven't done it since I was a kid, and I don't think sitting on the board while somebody else pushes it counts as 'skateboarding'. But, you know... I think I'd be willing to try it again sometime."

It took her a few minutes to find a question she considered worth asking, settling with something she would've been reticent to answer honestly, herself:

"How do you feel about poetry?"

Alunya cocked their head, curiously. "What's poetry?"

Antares tapped them on the shoulder and raised a finger to help explain. "Poetry is when you mix words together artistically to give them a nice flow. Its kinda like telling a story or making a song, but you're focused on making the words sound nice when put together. Sometimes you make the words rhyme, sometimes theres other structures." Antares explained, dutifully.

Alunya made an "ooh" sound, nodding sagely as if they understand completely. "Oh, that sounds fun! I bet you can make a story sound alot prettier!"

Alunya pondered for a moment, raising one finger to their lips. "Hm... How do you feel about aging?"

It is a difficult matter to contend with but I should hope I embrace it with fortitude and finding purpose, old beasts never do age gracefully but its not the concept of death that causes me distress, It is hard for me to find the words but a soldier of any sorts is grasped with this inherent sense of duty and moreso myself, everything in my life thus far added up to the moment, if you asked someone else they'd say the man is a knight or a warrior and that he is trained to fight but about myself I would say my greatest calling was to look after, ironic isn't it but it is the burden of responsibility that falls upon he whom leads the pack or the pride. The realms I find myself in now are suffering and in disarray, I should hope that with the little time I have left I am able to create times of peace and prosperity for not just a few and that there is some semblance of order left in the lands.

My mind often hearkens to the old guard Varus, the soldiers in the camp thought he was mad, a scarred up old man in his sixties with a limp, he could've retired gone back to the farms and built himself a good life all in all but I think what possessed Varus was an obsession with duty and I find myself in the same situation, and much to Old Varus's woe, for all the battles he had fought and survived, for every horrid march he had weathered, death came to him by the fireside amidst the other soldiers with little more than a cup of wine, by three days he was too weak even to wield a sword and as the camp up and marched he grabbed just his sword and straggled on for a few, we helped him when we could ofcourse but it was evident, I'll never forget the look in Varus's eyes, there was tenacity, with all his will and force he compelled himself to go on, but his body finally gave up on him... he lacked a sense of direction however, I dont but what I hope is, I know when to stop and know when I am needed elsewhere and not on the battlefield.

Hmph, Aging... i'll definitely say the thought doesn't bring me comfort, but i'm far from done.

What is your character's opinion on government and ruling ?

"I can't exactly answer it the way I want to while I'm active in the Marines. Let's just say that I love my country, with extra extra emphasis on 'country'."

It seemed the Marine's usually laid-back demeanor slightly darkened whilst he thought about the government.

"Once I have my DD-214 in hand, come ask me again for my honest opinion."


what is your honest opinion about modern television shows?

The blonde leans back in her seat, exhaling long and slow like she'd been holding the breath for a while. She rubbed the back of her neck, the cybernetics hiding under the synthetic skin of her hands pleasantly cool against her real skin.

"... Not a lot of modern stuff's really been holding my interest. I don't know exactly what it is. I guess that so much of it feels ... insincere? Alienating, somehow? And I hate being able to predict, down to the exact word choice, the next line of dialogue. Every time I can, I just want to stand up and go do anything else."

Kira drew her cold hand down her face, looking up as she tried to pinpoint what had her so bothered about most modern shows.

"... I guess there's also something that skeeves me out about... noticing things I never noticed when I was younger. The product placement, mostly; stuff like... a bottle of Pepsi, right? With the label perfectly-legible, pointed straight at the camera, framed in such a way that some part of your brain notices it, even though it's not part of the story or the storytelling. It just feels like, even when the ads finally turn off, they're still trying to sneak them in all the fu-- sorry, all the time."

Caught herself before she let a four-letter word slip, offering a slight, crooked smile.

"Strange New Worlds is pretty good, though. So's Lower Decks. But both of those are good assuming you already enjoy Star Trek. If you don't, I've got no suggestions."


"How do you feel about... painting? Doing it or looking at the end result, I'm not going to be a stickler for specificity."

"Yaldi!" The bovine woman exclaimed, a hearty chuckle thundering from her chest. "I ain't much of a painter meself, it's abit of a challenge ta hold them itsy-bitsy brushes in these 'ere hands, but I do like ooglin' at all 'em pritty paintin's. I enjoy tha' one's with defined brush strokes, an' colorful flowers, an' rollin' hills..." She let out a dreamy sigh, her mind flooding with all the wondrous works of art she had the privilege of seeing during her short time as a migrant. These days, most of the work she saw was brought in by the regulars that visited her tavern, or the occasional shady salesman looking to make a bit of coin off of uncanny duplicates. She didn't mind. Art was art and paintings were paintings. Her philosophy was simple: anything handcrafted was worthy of awe in her book. "Say, while we're on tha topic of paintin', what's your stance on different genres such'as still life, portraits, an' landscapes? Do ye have a favorite? Is 'dere one ye despise?"

"Hmm. . . I'll admit, I ain't tat experienced vhen it comes to paintin's." The Roegadyn rubbed her head thoughtfully, scrimshaw pipe in the other hand. "Hovever, I am somevhat familiar vit it at ta same time. Confused? Let me explain. Me moter couldn't sail when she vas carrying me. Made her far too ill. Instead, she did veavin' and paintin' at Wyznkirz Dorpf. I still have a shawl she made vit me."

Uwilthota looked down, thumbing at the fringed hem of a blue shawl around her waist. It was covered with a belt carrying various fishing supplies, but was fairly visible nonetheless.

"From ta paintin's I've seen her make, vhich is still around our houseboat, she painted a lot o' landscapes. Especially of ta beach." She took a drag from her pipe, sighing out the smoke wistfully. "It ne'er leaves you, does it? Love for ta sea. She captured it from vhere she saw it. She painted ta port and everyting. I vish I could show you! I guess tat means, if'n I had to pick a love fer a specific type o' paintin's', it'd be landscapes. People really capture ta pride o' nature tat way. It expresses more from a person tan even a self portrait vould, if you ask me."

Leaning forward, she rested an elbow on her knee.

"My turn! How do you feel about explorin'? Do you prefer to stay put vhere you are? Or are you at a different spot at any given time?"

"A always think that no stone's left to be unturned, ye know?" Artie mused, throwing the grease-splattered rag that she'd been polishing a piece of robotic plating with over her shoulder. "'Course, took that a bit more literally b'fore A ended up seein' the universe with me current crew, but possibly supernatural shite aside, A really do think that the galaxy is made to be explored. It's all about the way ye do it that matters." She gestured at a small knick on her bicep that cut through the rich green of her tattoos. "We go on these wee tours sometimes to backwater planets to receive ancient tech no one's doin' nothin' with anymore, an' while A don't care much about all the rambles about ancenstral curses an' whatnot, A do always make sure that A don't go wreckin' the tombs and temples like ye see in the movies." Boobietraps didn't always leave her a choice, though Art did consider herself lucky that she was a techhead rather than a history buff- more often than not, that meant she could prevent the trap from springing in the first place, and walk off with the booty in a glorious science-fueled double win.

"Anyway, that's just my two cents on it, A can guarantee ye that some dusty book-sniffin' rascal'll come up an' try to disagree with me, heh. That's fine, though, tha's why A left the Academy- better to see it for yerself than to spend yer days chattin' about it." Artie took off a glove to scratch herself on the freshly buzzed back of her skull, before turning to the next person. "Alright, now let's get on with it. What's yer opinion on fightin' for money? Interpret that all the ways ye will- gladiators, mercs, A wanna hear all about it." Not really- she'd wander off whistlin' by the time the next person came on, but it was always good to toss in a question with plenty of room for controversial takes.

"I see no problem with it. All fights to some degree are about money when you get down to it. War is a business like any other." Said Mari as she sat counting a stack of bills "The more they fight, the more money they make. Which means the more money they spend with me."

Satisfied with her counting, Mari puts the stack of bills into her jacket "Buisness aside...What is your opinion on sweets? Could be any kind. Candies, desserts....those kinds of things. I personally love them."

"Sweets are a perfect alternative for the, more, ah, toxic options," Sherlock said with a hint of reluctance. "If I had to choose a favorite, it would likely be biscuits or perhaps even something with white chocolate. I can't say that I have an overall preference, but I'll never decline milk teas or sweetened coffees."

The consulting detective had to take a moment to consider. He debated on whether or not he wanted to allow the answering party an ease of access, a pass as it were, to converse. It was hardly his process to merely converse, however. Sherlock needed to theorize and deduce -- he thrived on reasoning and the science of thought. He needed something more complex, a veritable labyrinthine-like tête-à-tête where minds meet, both of which were savvy on the subject material.

He hoped his efforts would not be in vain, and as such, Sherlock dispensed his observation with relish, "What are your feelings on the more discredited forensic analyses of pour patterns in arson investigations? I've always found this particularly interesting and while research is always ongoing, the more overlooked and sometimes even discredited methods still provide some of the most elementary indications of maleficence."

Istiana narrowed her eyes, it took a moment or two for her to decipher what in her opinion was put in an excessive and rather needlessly elaborate manner, she grinned then, he would've made a brilliant frumentarius had the tides of time and the universes however, she could reason why the man had instead chosen to apply his talents to judiciary pursuits suspecting an innate moral or personal obligation perhaps even something unconscious but Istiana garnered that he would rather enjoy the freedoms afforded to spy-hunters all the same.

" I presume its utility would be decided on a case-by-case basis ofcourse, ascertaining utility in itself depends on the circumstances, younger and impulsive spies default often to the most unlikely explanations as a result of a poorly developed diagnostic hierarchy, there would have to be a sort of certainty operationalized as magnitude that helps us to better deduce and systematically rather than intuitively deconstruct the situation, it is human tendency to deliberate, we have an affinity for superstition where our immediate senses fail us and oftentimes our minds are prone to make erroneous judgements in the subconscious, across Tyranoth, every peoples have their martyrs, whether the cause be just or not, to some a villain, to some a hero, to some a fool... the only distinguishing factor is truth and truth is decided by the absolute, ergo, certainty and yet, we can never be too certain, the absolute in itself is a sort of superstition however it is a more favorable ideal to emulate, for the most part than mere deduction... I would argue that the analysis of burn patterns and the deduction of the substance used upon analysis ranks further down the hierarchy... no methodology is entirely useless however, why would we prefer it if not first having conducting alchemical tests, consulting witnesses, extensive questioning or even something as mundane as following trails with a well trained scent hound... you see where I am going with this ? nevertheless, I would not dismiss the unconventional both out of experience and in the wisdom that you would not have mentioned such a thing had you not found use for it "

She paused with a sly grin

" Now then, what is your opinion upon warfare ? "

Michelle raised an eyebrow at the sudden question. Ha! Warfare? She knew her fair share of it. While she has never been in the heat of battle herself, she knew the tales and she has met many warriors who survived to tell their own story. War was common in the world in which she lived in. It was almost preposterous whenever she saw other people, who didn’t live in her world, to claim to live an easy and simple life. Simple lives aren’t given here.

“I believe it’s necessary,” she declared sternly. Her head was held tall and she never tucked her chin down. Brushing a strand of hair from her face, she continued. “Kings must sacrifice people in order to protect. Many people may call me cruel for holding such beliefs, but I call it respect. I respect those who can put their life on the line for the sake of others, whether they lived or died. A world without war would be an amazing place to live in but such things don’t exist. People are bloodthirsty, greedy, and always want power—so they cause wars. It is up to the brave people to stand up and fight whenever they are faced with bloodshed because they know if they don’t fight, it’ll be their families dying with them.”

The young woman sat down. She clasped her hands over her lap and stared at the floor, deep in thought. “I am no true warrior. I am much better at internal wars than I am actual ones. I cannot speak for the dead and I shall not. I can only say that I hope their souls rest peacefully in the afterlife and may the gods look down upon those who still fight with a gentle gaze. Now, enough of this talk!”

Michelle forced a smile. While stern and a little brittle, she looked towards the next person. “A question… hm. How do you feel about a woman leading an empire of kingdom as king?”

Digging a dagger into the boards of the table, Aedgar contemplated the question, taking a slow inhale before his head turned to face Duchess Labbson, there were a lot of things in Stannen's gaze admiration for both her semblance and ambition but also of caution and some degree of remorse, the woman in her proud strut did not make it easy to bear witness to her grievances or the difficulties of a life in court but then he couldn't blame her either, he presumed much like himself she did not quite find the king or would-be kings of her realm suitable for the task or had an uneasy association with the former, Aedgar liked it, despite her somewhat regal stature she had no regard for the performative customs of the court, the woman was a charlatan, she was vulgar in her own right... that sort of bold and brash ambition was something she and Aedgar shared, and atleast in his opinion, was what made for a good ruler in difficult times.

" The only thing that differentiates a good queen from a good king... Dame Labbson "

he paused, shoving at the table with one boot so the chair he sat upon dragged backwards, such that his frame was in full view still seated, then Aedgar made his point by placing his legs apart in a spread and gesturing between them with an stern and uncaring expression upon his semblance that shifted to a sort of menacing grin.

" Titles exist insofar as their responsibilities allow them, poor kings will find themselves torn apart by the ravenous court like a lamb amongst wolves, good ones shall accomplish something for their people or progeny, preferably both before the tidings of time or fate take them... the point i'm trying to make is, a king is just a title, what will truly differentiate you in the annals of history are your acts and the legacy you leave behind... you strike me as a shrewd... though... troubled young woman... I can think of another in quite the same dilemma as you "

He added, his gaze shifting to view his reflection in the steel of the dagger that he had planted upon the table, a subtle humored hmf left him.

" May the fates favor your ambitions and may your ambitions bring prosperity to your people "

---

What is your characters opinion of elves ?

The vampire was caught off guard by this question, and he thought about it for a moment. "Well....I find them quite interesting. Most of the elves I've seen were pretty kind to me, so I might be biased." He turned over to the next person. "What's your opinion on crossdressing?"

"My opinion on crossdressing is that it's fine. Like, each person should be able to do what makes them happy. Some people might not like it, but that's the case with a lot of things and it's okay, you know?" He rests a hand on his hip and cocks his head. "Now, what's your opinion on long drives at night?"

" I love them! I was usually passenger but I got my drivers license last year and my big brother lets me use his car so I get to drive myself now."

Denise looks at her nails for a moment before asking, "What is your opinion on fish tacos?"

"My opinion on fish tacos? They are delicious, and very sellable! Provided I can get around my lack of a retail food license. . ."

Pondering for a moment, the eldritch woman asks, "What is your opinion on the general unknowns of life? Like what happens after death, for example."