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01-19-2013   #97 (permalink)
MsSquid
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IGN: Nondi
Class: Pusher to_sheep
Guild: Celeste
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Emrys
male goth

Frances Dolour
High school... if you had to describe high school in one word it would be war. Every single moment of high school life is nothing but comical suburban pastiche of war. Gormless, naive children wake up each day and load themselves into piss coloured vehicles, shipping themselves off to a cold foreign land which they have no connection to. There, they join their cliques, but they're less like cliques and more like militias. Nerds, jocks, preps, and whatever else all stuck under the same roof, all trying to coexist together. Of course they can't coexist. They're all too caught up in their own shitty ideals to coexist. The jocks hate the nerds, the nerds hate the jocks, and the preps sit by and watch the unending clown show, laughing when they're told to and staying quiet when they aren't as if they were the audience for some shitty sitcom. They would all like to think that they're different, that the suburban war they're fighting has some meaning, but no. Nerds, jocks, preps, and whatever are no different from each other. A rose by any other name is just as bloody red. They're all goddamn conformists.

School is war, war is hell, therefore school is hell. And after three years of unending, repetitious hell, the conformists still question why you are the way you are. It should come as no surprise to you, since you know from experience that the mind of a conformist is one with no self-awareness, yet their bloody curiosity disgusts you every time. Even the sound of your conformist sister uttering your name "Frances," and then foolishly asking "why are you wearing black lipstick?" is enough to make your skin shudder in absolute disgust.

It's cold, at least five below zero on the Celsius scale. The sun has yet to have risen, and the piss coloured bus hasn't even reached your street corner yet. Only a year ago, this abrasive environment wouldn't have bothered you. In fact, it would seem like heaven compared to school. But the few moments of solace from conformists that you found while waiting for the bus each morning has been ripped from you as your sister entered her freshman year in high school. Now every fifteen minute wait for the bus is nothing but another moment in your life which is drenched in conformist idiocy. "Hey," you source of agony spouts, "hey! Why are you wearing black lipstick?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Is it like an emo thing?"

You writhe at your sister's utterance of that word. She is taken aback by your anger induced seizures and takes a few steps away from you, as she should. When you get like this, you aren't sure if you'll be able to hold the darkness inside of you. "B-bro, are you okay, dude?" You spasms stop and you find yourself in control again. "Dearest sister," you say, "if there is one thing your conformist mind should be capable of understanding about me it is that I am NOT an emo. An emo is a conformist by another name."

"Well jeez, sorry for asking. The lipstick looks stupid as hell by the way."

You ignore your sisters childish insult and wait for the bus in silence. The bus ride to school goes as it always does. The conformists stare at you as you head straight for the back seat, and you sister chats with one her braindead friends. No one speaks to you for the entirety of the rid to school, and you prefer it that way.

As you reach the high school, you notice dark cloud floating over it. It's a sign of bad things to come, somehow even badder than the bad things that happen at school every single day.

You first class is English with Ms. Glossolalia. You could head straight there, but you'd rather talk with some of the other non-conformists that you hang out with in the D-wing of the school. But, if you go to talk to them, there is no doubt that you will be late of Ms. Glossolalia's class, not that you would care.

There's a crude scribbling of the school's layout on a sign in front of the building for some reason:


The A-Wing is dedicated to Liberal Arts, the B-Wing is for maths, the C-Wing is for sports, and the D-Wing is for "others" and the most notable thing there is the cafeteria. The stadium, sometimes refered to as the E-Wing, isn't shown. You'll never have a reason to go there anyway.

ENTER COMMAND:

Actions:
Examine, Talk, Attack, Pick Up, Drop, Combine

NOTE: Using actions will help make your school life much easier. If you ever feel you don't know enough about an item or you environment, use the Examine command. If you want to talk to a specific character, or item, use the Talk command. If you feel threatened, use the Attack command, but be warned that using the Attack command when you don't absolutely need to will lead to nothing but trouble. If you want to put an item in your inventory, use the Pick Up command. If an item is useless and you want to get rid of it, use the Drop command. If two or more items seem as though they would be better off together, use the Combine command.

Items:
Bookbag, Lipstick

NOTE: You will obtain items from characters and events, but more items can be found by examining your environment. Items that you can interact with will be shown in bold text. Be aware that not all items are useful, and some of them may actually be detrimental.