That said, I like Pwnemon and Birkal so far. They have the same trainer sprite and type, but totally different motivations...!
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The Labyrinth - IN BETA; Dramatic Update!
- Thread starter LouisCyphre
- Start date
- Status
What no.
Lou i'm gonna cry.
Lou i have tears.
:c
I EVEN MADE MY FLAVOR AND EVERYTHING.
that paine sprite is REALLY TEMPTINGasjdhfasdhfjashdfa
but
[box]i advise glacier to read his own sig: "Sorry ASB, but I burned out. I bit off more than I could chew and real life troubles caused me to slack and become irritable."
this means: "I probably shouldn't sign up for a new, irc-intensive roleplay"[/box]
I am on a phone, but ill try this. Give me a few minutes to get flavor and my Mon up.
EDIT: I guess this means I will have to wait who knows how long before I get another chance......
EDIT: I guess this means I will have to wait who knows how long before I get another chance......
Pwn, Birkal, Akela
edit: oh sorry you were a bit late
edit: oh sorry you were a bit late
<sadness grief loss sad where help>
I shake my head wildly, the intruding thoughts jerking me violently out of my musical reverie. Standing up suddenly, I misplay the next riff and nearly drop my guitar. Gah! I love him to death, but couldn't he find a better time? I set my guitar down on the stone bench and give a sideways glance to my left.
As expected, Siddhartha floats there silently, powered by his own unfathomable telekinesis. The cloud of dream mist coalescing and swirling around his head is thin and stringy; he hasn't eaten since some of the Pokemon's midday naps. Looking closer, I notice deep streaks of foreboding gray among the usual pastel mixture of cheerful pink, purple, and orange fluff. Despite all of my experience with Siddhartha's mind-boggling behavior over our years together, I've never seen this before. My worrying thoughts instantly jump to sickness or wounds, but Siddhartha himself seems as fine as ever, and its likely a Musharna as responsible and hardy as himself would report illness earlier or take care of it himself. Nevertheless, something was certainly wrong.
<help dark fear grief lost alone help help>
Yeah. Something was defenitely wrong. What, though? Unfortunately, getting anything even vaguely resembling a straight answer out of Siddhartha was essentially impossible. As far as I can tell, Siddhartha can only convey and recieve general concepts or emotions psychically, and even then those are a jumbled mess that could keep a psychologist occupied for days. Its a little nervewracking every time he talks with me, the way his thoughts sneak their way into my mind and seamlessly integrate themselves into my own precious thoughts, taking root seemingly wherever they please. Getting a solid description from him is as fanciful a dream as whatever he eats for a midnight snack (he's absolutely brilliant, and understands the physical world better than most, but well...his head's just in the clouds). After a long conversation with him, sometimes even I feel like my poor, fragile mind has just been constricted and wrung out like the hapless victim of a Cradily attack. Fortunately, I've adapted our style of conversation, and become quite talented at communicating solely through wordless emotions.
I sling my guitar around my shoulders again, and breathe deeply, before breaking out into a short and crisp, but incomplete appregio - a musical "question". Clearing my mind and refilling it with a stream of inquisitive thoughts, Siddhartha understands.
<alone lost child help sad child dark help>
I've worked wit Siddhartha enough to figure out what he's trying to explain now. As his telepathic self wandered the dreamworld (a concept I only barely understand, and, as patient as he is, Siddhartha doesn't ever bother to properly explain it to my insignificant mind), he must have stumbled across the psychic and subconcious distress call of a terrified child. Lost? Kidnapped? Just plain scared? Regardless, Siddhartha's determined urgency now is so unlike his usual infinite patience and longterm planning, this situation must be serious. I'm quite proud of my method of gleaning location from Siddhartha, something he considers unworthy of mental focus, so I flex my fingers and launch into a high-energy fret-crawling series of complimentary scales, my thumb plucking the bass with driving intensity. Exactly the style charicteristic of the big city life in Castelia and Nimba-
<No>
Hehe. He's caught onto my game now and answers directly. I ease into an upbeat funk excerpt, something I clearly remember hearing from a street musician during my brief travels in southeaste-
<No>
Sighing with dissappointment, I lean back and play a little bit of home, a lazy uneven rythym iconic of all te little villages scattered around -
<Yes yes dark fear help yes dark>
His uncharacteristic rashness and wherewithal troubles me greatly. Puzzling over how to phrase my next question, I gaze out over Unova from my perch atop Monolith Hall. The wicked form of that new black skyscraper, right next to that calm little village, pierces the forest canopy aggresively. Suddenly putting two and two together, I rush to collect my bag and begin the long trek down the mountain, grabbing Siddhartha and wrapping him in his shawl, and hoping he isn't already too late...
I shake my head wildly, the intruding thoughts jerking me violently out of my musical reverie. Standing up suddenly, I misplay the next riff and nearly drop my guitar. Gah! I love him to death, but couldn't he find a better time? I set my guitar down on the stone bench and give a sideways glance to my left.
As expected, Siddhartha floats there silently, powered by his own unfathomable telekinesis. The cloud of dream mist coalescing and swirling around his head is thin and stringy; he hasn't eaten since some of the Pokemon's midday naps. Looking closer, I notice deep streaks of foreboding gray among the usual pastel mixture of cheerful pink, purple, and orange fluff. Despite all of my experience with Siddhartha's mind-boggling behavior over our years together, I've never seen this before. My worrying thoughts instantly jump to sickness or wounds, but Siddhartha himself seems as fine as ever, and its likely a Musharna as responsible and hardy as himself would report illness earlier or take care of it himself. Nevertheless, something was certainly wrong.
<help dark fear grief lost alone help help>
Yeah. Something was defenitely wrong. What, though? Unfortunately, getting anything even vaguely resembling a straight answer out of Siddhartha was essentially impossible. As far as I can tell, Siddhartha can only convey and recieve general concepts or emotions psychically, and even then those are a jumbled mess that could keep a psychologist occupied for days. Its a little nervewracking every time he talks with me, the way his thoughts sneak their way into my mind and seamlessly integrate themselves into my own precious thoughts, taking root seemingly wherever they please. Getting a solid description from him is as fanciful a dream as whatever he eats for a midnight snack (he's absolutely brilliant, and understands the physical world better than most, but well...his head's just in the clouds). After a long conversation with him, sometimes even I feel like my poor, fragile mind has just been constricted and wrung out like the hapless victim of a Cradily attack. Fortunately, I've adapted our style of conversation, and become quite talented at communicating solely through wordless emotions.
I sling my guitar around my shoulders again, and breathe deeply, before breaking out into a short and crisp, but incomplete appregio - a musical "question". Clearing my mind and refilling it with a stream of inquisitive thoughts, Siddhartha understands.
<alone lost child help sad child dark help>
I've worked wit Siddhartha enough to figure out what he's trying to explain now. As his telepathic self wandered the dreamworld (a concept I only barely understand, and, as patient as he is, Siddhartha doesn't ever bother to properly explain it to my insignificant mind), he must have stumbled across the psychic and subconcious distress call of a terrified child. Lost? Kidnapped? Just plain scared? Regardless, Siddhartha's determined urgency now is so unlike his usual infinite patience and longterm planning, this situation must be serious. I'm quite proud of my method of gleaning location from Siddhartha, something he considers unworthy of mental focus, so I flex my fingers and launch into a high-energy fret-crawling series of complimentary scales, my thumb plucking the bass with driving intensity. Exactly the style charicteristic of the big city life in Castelia and Nimba-
<No>
Hehe. He's caught onto my game now and answers directly. I ease into an upbeat funk excerpt, something I clearly remember hearing from a street musician during my brief travels in southeaste-
<No>
Sighing with dissappointment, I lean back and play a little bit of home, a lazy uneven rythym iconic of all te little villages scattered around -
<Yes yes dark fear help yes dark>
His uncharacteristic rashness and wherewithal troubles me greatly. Puzzling over how to phrase my next question, I gaze out over Unova from my perch atop Monolith Hall. The wicked form of that new black skyscraper, right next to that calm little village, pierces the forest canopy aggresively. Suddenly putting two and two together, I rush to collect my bag and begin the long trek down the mountain, grabbing Siddhartha and wrapping him in his shawl, and hoping he isn't already too late...
- Status