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22 August 2009 @ 12:02 am

To Zanarkand

Welcome to Zanarkand. It might once have been beautiful, but it's just a heap of rubble, now. And beware those Zombie Crusaders with flamethrowers; they can be a bitch to kill, if you're not prepared. But feel free to explore the ruins -- your host, whoever she might be, has set out tables with refreshments. Not that those won't get overturned by zombies, or filled with snakes as she tends to do.

Those who are fourth-wall savvy might notice the bgm...
03 August 2009 @ 10:17 pm

Characters Played


Have a problem with the way I'm playing one of the above? Feel free to share! I love crit, I always want to improve my playing, and I'd rather no secret grudges. If you're in a game of mine and have a personal problem with me, this would also be a good place to mention. As would the desire to plot. I ALSO ACCEPT SPAM.

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you're damn lucky that bigtext isn't BLINKING
21 July 2009 @ 10:24 pm

I hear the zombies come out when the moon comes up...

You find yourself transported to the top of a cliff at sunset. There's a live band, tables of food, the liquor's flowing free, and lanterns are everywhere. The band might suck, but hey, free party!

There are no guardrails at the edges of the cliff, so don't get too drunk. You'd hate to fall to your death, wouldn't you?
[Hey look here's a Yuffie stumbling out of one world and into another. As usual, he's hungover from his twentieth birthday party, he's wearing his riding leathers, he's thrown up all over himself, and he's drenched for some strange reason. Oh, and he has Vincent's wallet in his hand. Nice trick, Yuffie.]

[And he's trying really hard to ignore flashes of memories of Template's streets lit by night, an oncoming semi, a puddle, the top of a bridge.]

[This would be a general canon (trans.: CnC/KDR/GDS-inclusive) muse, immediately after this. She stumbles out of Spamland and into the musebox, automatically curling up on the nearest soft surface. Her clothes and braid are disheveled and she looks tired. To top it off, she's got tear tracks on her face, multiple bruises from the tumble cycle, some mild burns from the hot air (including blisters on her arms), and a sporty shiner from the time he kicked her back into the dryer.]

[Makimachi Misao hates, loathes, and despises Saitou Hajime now and it's plain on her face. No going back. He must pay...
after she feels a little better.]