Plot bunnies
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Chocolate Covered Plot Bunnies of the Apolcalypse
Aurora Black
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*threadjack*
BF: "Sweetie, you need to take a writing timeout so you can dust the house. The bunnies have evolved into whales."
That was for you, baby.
*end of threadjack*
Oh yeah. Plot whales.
BF: "Sweetie, you need to take a writing timeout so you can dust the house. The bunnies have evolved into whales."
That was for you, baby.
*end of threadjack*
Oh yeah. Plot whales.
Aurora Black
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entitled said:
You're in for some fun, then.
Aurora Black
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entitled said:
It took us several months of work before we even got to the final plotline, and even then we had to make tons of changes as the game's development progressed. Just a warning.
TheEarl
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From my blog:
As I apparently have a few people reading this blog of their own volition, and actively returning for second helpings, I thought I'd plug my story website again. It's www.____________.com and it's full of entertainmenty-goodness. Well worth your time to go visit it, in my opinion; the resident author is a genius.
I'll actually just explain to you how writing stories works, because there appears to be a gross misconception amongst the populace on where stories come from. Most people seem to think that they're just imagined by authors, which couldn't be further from the truth. The plotbunnies bring them.
The plotbunnies are little white-furred, invisible rabbits, with sharp and pointy teeth that wander around. They make story ideas out of string, washing up bottles and sticky-back plastic and then shoot them into authors' heads using peashooters made from McDonalds straws. Then, while the author's distracted, they steal a bit of his/her brain and use it to make ravioli. Usually the bit that remembers where the author left their keys.
It's true. True, true, true. Except for the lies.
But, you see, the plotbunnies are very picky. There are billions of people and only a limited number of plotbunnies. They only need a certain amount of ravioli and they have to wait until their mum's finished with the washing up liquid bottle before they can make more stories. I am of course, referring to the English ones. The ones in continental Europe are working on a ravioli mountain with their subsidies, which they'll later burn.
So they pick who they give the ideas to very carefully, depending on whose brain makes the best-tasting ravioli. I understand beer helps the taste, as does eating large quantities of red meat. But what helps most of all is feedback. If an author gets large amounts of feedback on his stories, then a quanitity of a good bacteria, named bifidus digestivum, gets released into the brain. This good bacteria helps make the very best ravioli and thus, the plotbunnies come back again and again and again.
The feedback forms on my website have nothing to do with assuaging my own ego or with gaining sinful amounts of pleasure from knowing people are reading my stories. It's all about trying to ensure a good supply of ravioli to the plotbunnies and a good supply of stories to the masses.
Please. Think of the plotbunnies.
The Earl
As I apparently have a few people reading this blog of their own volition, and actively returning for second helpings, I thought I'd plug my story website again. It's www.____________.com and it's full of entertainmenty-goodness. Well worth your time to go visit it, in my opinion; the resident author is a genius.
I'll actually just explain to you how writing stories works, because there appears to be a gross misconception amongst the populace on where stories come from. Most people seem to think that they're just imagined by authors, which couldn't be further from the truth. The plotbunnies bring them.
The plotbunnies are little white-furred, invisible rabbits, with sharp and pointy teeth that wander around. They make story ideas out of string, washing up bottles and sticky-back plastic and then shoot them into authors' heads using peashooters made from McDonalds straws. Then, while the author's distracted, they steal a bit of his/her brain and use it to make ravioli. Usually the bit that remembers where the author left their keys.
It's true. True, true, true. Except for the lies.
But, you see, the plotbunnies are very picky. There are billions of people and only a limited number of plotbunnies. They only need a certain amount of ravioli and they have to wait until their mum's finished with the washing up liquid bottle before they can make more stories. I am of course, referring to the English ones. The ones in continental Europe are working on a ravioli mountain with their subsidies, which they'll later burn.
So they pick who they give the ideas to very carefully, depending on whose brain makes the best-tasting ravioli. I understand beer helps the taste, as does eating large quantities of red meat. But what helps most of all is feedback. If an author gets large amounts of feedback on his stories, then a quanitity of a good bacteria, named bifidus digestivum, gets released into the brain. This good bacteria helps make the very best ravioli and thus, the plotbunnies come back again and again and again.
The feedback forms on my website have nothing to do with assuaging my own ego or with gaining sinful amounts of pleasure from knowing people are reading my stories. It's all about trying to ensure a good supply of ravioli to the plotbunnies and a good supply of stories to the masses.
Please. Think of the plotbunnies.
The Earl
Aurora Black
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TheEarl said:
LMAO!
Aurora Black
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entitled said:
Crap! Tons of luck, then.
carsonshepherd
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carsonshepherd said:
SOOOOO CCUUUUUUUTTTTEEEEEE!!!
Makes me wanna pet a plotbunny and snuggle it under my chin!
entitled
the quiet one
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Encounter 7 – They Eat and Eat and Eat!
On returning the steps they find the Mayor, Uri Rafiki, and the farmer, Ottar Haukssen waiting for them. The farmer seems a down in the dirt sort, no time for chatter. He explains that just 1 week ago be discovered the first creature in his field. He supposed it wandered in or was dropped there by some random traveler. It did not seem threatening so he left it alone. Now, his field is over run, and it is spreading. Other farmers nearby are complaining of these demons coming and devouring their precious crops. They seem to enchant the woman folk who refuse to let the farmers kills them.
If the party members could find a way to remove these creatures from their fields they would ever be so grateful.
The farmer then leads them on a short walk to his farm outside of the village. The farmers home is a small shack surrounded by what once was many fields of grain, and corn. Now all that remains is what looks like half eaten stalks, and debris.
The farmers wife rushes from the house on sight of the party. She gushes how thankful she is that they have agreed to help – just don't go and kill any of them.
The party can not see any creatures, but is confronted with a sound not unlike a million crickets. A tornado of sound rushes over them.
If the party goes and inspects the field, they do not need to walk to far when they spot a small furball on the ground. Its fur seems like that of a cat, only that it is completely covered in it.. there doesn't appear to be any eyes, legs, or even a mouth!
On further inspection they see that there is not one, or two furballs, but what seems like hundreds.
If one of the players picks up the furball it begins to coo in a soothing way and purr.
If a player places one in their pack it will begin to consume any food they have stored in there, and multiply.
The farmer tells the players that once they have solved the problem to return to the Mayor at the town center for payment.
Encounter 8 – The Menace is Gone
Once the players have either killed or relocated all of the furballs from around the village and returned to the town square the Mayor rushes out to meet them. On questioning the players about the fate of the monsters and being assured that his problem has been solved he gladly pays the players their gold.
If the players have killed all of the furballs, they are then confronted by a group of the women folk of the village demanding that they leave immediately, and not return. How horrible could they be to murder such sweet little creatures!
Disgusting Cute Furry Things
HP: 5
AC: 8
Attack: None
Special Abilitie: Their cooing noises calms even the most stubborn warrior and enchants anyone of the fairer sex. They multiply at a rate of 2:1 a day as long as they have food.
Number: 250 ... to start
If any of the players fail to check their packs before leaving the village there is a 1:4 chance they have a furball stuck in their pack and it will begin to consume any food or rations they have and multiply at a 2:1 ratio until it runs out of food.
And we've determined that should stop these folks.
On returning the steps they find the Mayor, Uri Rafiki, and the farmer, Ottar Haukssen waiting for them. The farmer seems a down in the dirt sort, no time for chatter. He explains that just 1 week ago be discovered the first creature in his field. He supposed it wandered in or was dropped there by some random traveler. It did not seem threatening so he left it alone. Now, his field is over run, and it is spreading. Other farmers nearby are complaining of these demons coming and devouring their precious crops. They seem to enchant the woman folk who refuse to let the farmers kills them.
If the party members could find a way to remove these creatures from their fields they would ever be so grateful.
The farmer then leads them on a short walk to his farm outside of the village. The farmers home is a small shack surrounded by what once was many fields of grain, and corn. Now all that remains is what looks like half eaten stalks, and debris.
The farmers wife rushes from the house on sight of the party. She gushes how thankful she is that they have agreed to help – just don't go and kill any of them.
The party can not see any creatures, but is confronted with a sound not unlike a million crickets. A tornado of sound rushes over them.
If the party goes and inspects the field, they do not need to walk to far when they spot a small furball on the ground. Its fur seems like that of a cat, only that it is completely covered in it.. there doesn't appear to be any eyes, legs, or even a mouth!
On further inspection they see that there is not one, or two furballs, but what seems like hundreds.
If one of the players picks up the furball it begins to coo in a soothing way and purr.
If a player places one in their pack it will begin to consume any food they have stored in there, and multiply.
The farmer tells the players that once they have solved the problem to return to the Mayor at the town center for payment.
Encounter 8 – The Menace is Gone
Once the players have either killed or relocated all of the furballs from around the village and returned to the town square the Mayor rushes out to meet them. On questioning the players about the fate of the monsters and being assured that his problem has been solved he gladly pays the players their gold.
If the players have killed all of the furballs, they are then confronted by a group of the women folk of the village demanding that they leave immediately, and not return. How horrible could they be to murder such sweet little creatures!
Disgusting Cute Furry Things
HP: 5
AC: 8
Attack: None
Special Abilitie: Their cooing noises calms even the most stubborn warrior and enchants anyone of the fairer sex. They multiply at a rate of 2:1 a day as long as they have food.
Number: 250 ... to start
If any of the players fail to check their packs before leaving the village there is a 1:4 chance they have a furball stuck in their pack and it will begin to consume any food or rations they have and multiply at a 2:1 ratio until it runs out of food.
And we've determined that should stop these folks.
carsonshepherd
comeback kid
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malachiteink said:
or make stew out of it....
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carsonshepherd said:
If I was going to eat someone....
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