blogs_blog_1755

You know, Kughii, I gotta say...

 

Your RPing is bad.

 

I mean, just look at an example of recent terrible RPing you posted (Don't even get me started on Aensetr Derrum...)!

 

"BuMp."

 

The caravan made it's way towards its destination, the roots, rocks and occasional roadblock delaying progress to a crawl, a certain carriage in the rear of the pack bouncing more than the rest, its back axle having already broken from the terrain, having been refitted by the owner twice since the journey's doomed beginning.

 

Lagging --

 

-- Abandoned --

 

-- Lost.

 

"It's going to be okay," a mother told her daughter as she held her tight to her chest, wildlife calling earnestly in the night. A muaka strayed into the vicinity, following the sent of fear, and discovering a treasure chest of "sandwiches." In a pinch, the roof was thrown across the path, unveiling the cowering duo of protector and protected. A toa of Air jumped forwards from the foliage, his voice a battle cry of the desperately doomed, striking against the rahi's side with his spear, the blow glancing off as if a drop of water on a window in a heavy wind, sliding away without a trace. The Muaka's paw found the toa's face, and he was dead; brains splattered across the roadside, his decapitated body indented into a nearby tree. Returning to the original, now desperately scrambling, quarry, the muaka pounced, taking the mother in one stride, shredding her into the moonlit abyss of night. Fear still permeated the small roadside, blood dripped from the muaka's mouth, but the little toa of water was unfound. In rage the muaka shredded two trees, leaving a pile of branches and bark in the muddy swamp-side path. Leaving, the muaka made its mark of territory, the smell of its acid curling even the strongest of farmer's noses, and then sached into the jungle-brush, feeling sorely cheated of a tender desert.

 

Kriigata shifter on her branch, her eyes screwed up in an expression of dreamt pain.

 

Oh, gosh no.

 

 

"BuMp."

 

Never start off an IC with an onomatopoeia, especially one written just like it sounds. It doesn't make people interested in the rest of it. Like, at all. Not kidding. 100% serious.

 

The caravan made it's way towards its destination, the roots, rocks and occasional roadblock delaying progress to a crawl, a certain carriage in the rear of the pack bouncing more than the rest, its back axle having already broken from the terrain, having been refitted by the owner twice since the journey's doomed beginning.

 

Never, ever, go descriptive. People hate that. I mean, like, you know Lord of The Rings and Harry Potter and all that stuff with actual descriptions? Naw, no one liked that.

And, like, no foreshadowing. It really doesn't build up interest. At all. Not kidding again (SERIOUSLY). 100% honest.

 

 

Lagging --

 

-- Abandoned --

 

-- Lost.

 

And, oh, never use dashes as punctuation. It doesn't provide a tone. And it most certainly doesn't show disarray. Nope. Not at all.

 

 

"It's going to be okay," a mother told her daughter as she held her tight to her chest, wildlife calling earnestly in the night. A muaka strayed into the vicinity, following the sent of fear, and discovering a treasure chest of "sandwiches." In a pinch, the roof was thrown across the path, unveiling the cowering duo of protector and protected. A toa of Air jumped forwards from the foliage, his voice a battle cry of the desperately doomed, striking against the rahi's side with his spear, the blow glancing off as if a drop of water on a window in a heavy wind, sliding away without a trace. The Muaka's paw found the toa's face, and he was dead; brains splattered across the roadside, his decapitated body indented into a nearby tree. Returning to the original, now desperately scrambling, quarry, the muaka pounced, taking the mother in one stride, shredding her into the moonlit abyss of night. Fear still permeated the small roadside, blood dripped from the muaka's mouth, but the little toa of water was unfound. In rage the muaka shredded two trees, leaving a pile of branches and bark in the muddy swamp-side path. Leaving, the muaka made its mark of territory, the smell of its acid curling even the strongest of farmer's noses, and then sached into the jungle-brush, feeling sorely cheated of a tender desert.

 

Oh, gosh. What was I just telling you? No descriptions. No one ever got anywhere with them. Nope. And especially no showing stuff from the muaka's point of view. I mean, no one wants to hear about how it thinks people are sandwiches because it's an animal! It's a monster, not an animal!

 

 

Kriigata shifter on her branch, her eyes screwed up in an expression of dreamt pain.

 

And, like, this has all been soooooooooo much better in comparison to this line. I mean, you never reveal that it's a person who will become a sadistic psychopath dreaming depressing and quite scary dreams. Like, that actually makes them human. And of course, no sadistic maniacs are human, right? A bunch of monsters, the lot of them.

 

...Yes, Kughii, I've got to admit: Your writing is terrible...

 

...In that it makes all others' around you seem terrible in comparison.

 

Keep it up, brodawg ;3

 

And as for the word, here's one: Griseous-adj. meaning mottled with gray, usually bluish gray; grizzled.

 

-The Fearless Leader

何これ？

 

wow, thanks.. I was actually feeling like cutting a wrist or two until I got to the end... Good thing I read things before I react.

Lul.

何これ？ wow, thanks.. I was actually feeling like cutting a wrist or two until I got to the end... Good thing I read things before I react.

 

I can't tell if that's hyperbole or not, but either way, that's scary, man. I guess my plan to go Jonathan Swift worked so well it nearly failed. But the important thing is that you read it to the end XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXP

 

I had just noticed that you said, and I quote: 'If you have flaming criticism, trolling to perform, or other shananigans (spelling, who cares about shpealing?), please leave them in the comment section BELOW with a joke or new and interesting word (with definition and type of word -- adj, v, noun... -- thanks) attached.' I decided to take advantage of that and make a compliment disguised as flaming criticism. It actually wasn't that hard, but on the other hand, I've never done this before.

 

And here's a new and shiny definition which you can buy now at K-Mart for only 19.99 USD: 'Sinuous-Adj.

Meanings:

 

• Having many curves and turns.
  
• Lithe and supple.
  

'

The above definition is taken from Google defs with some paraphrasing, mainly because I'm a bit too lazy (and a bit too busy) to write one myself.

 

-The Fearless Leader

You're a terrible imposter for Jonathan Swift... Stick to your putrid literary God-hood please.

 

'Putrid literary god-hood'?

 

Well, then. I suppose I'll just have to make one of these entries so that someone ACTUALLY criticizes my writing for once.

 

xP

 

But enough off-topic talk from me.

 

Vacillate-Verb

Meaning: Alternate or waver between different opinions or actions; be indecisive.

 

Again from Google defs, sorry. Assuming I am a god, even they can get tired, as I am currently. And they're still most terribly busy xP

 

-The Fearless Leader

Glad to hear you finally got a blog. That was all that was keeping you from joining Fearless, I, and the other cool kids. We must now think of another way to be better than you.................

 

Drat, can't think of one.

 

Anyway, Fearless is completely wrong, your a great writer and he's a great writer. And, I'm glad you didn't "cut a wrist" Count Dooku style.

 

 

 

-Mef Man