Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Join the millions that use us for their forum communities. Create your own forum today.
Learn More · Register for Free
Screamer, Screamer, He's a Dreamer
"Psychological horror, yeah, pretty good. Shi-uhhh" Damn, almost cursed, gotta hold your tongue Michael. Don't wanna hafta' leave class early. "T-things like uhhh, Jacobs Ladder or Donnie Darko, yeah?"

To Michael, psychological horror was a pretty good genre, though it wasn't perfect as it was praised to be. For every Eraserhead, there was like some six pretentious flicks with no coherent plot for the sake of having no coherent plot, with the occasional ear rape distorted image thrown in. One of the reasons Mike preferred slashers was because you didn't need too much plot to keep people invested. Just some good ol' special effects and creativity. Michael had to stifle a giggle at the Troll 2 line. That's some good taste right there! No sarcasm. Oh my gaaaaahhhhd...

"Yeah, I get that, I prefer some of the more eh, realistic films I guess. Not shi- uh stuff like the Nightmare on Elm Street series, or the later Friday 13th movies, but the ones with actual tension. First Halloween, the old 'Tee Cee Emms', Hostel's probably the tensest one I seen though. Not the sequels, those are garbage."

There's nothing wrong with a little campiness in a slasher flick, but it's got to be pre-established first. You can't make a Troma quality film with the expectation it's going to be Hellraiser. Still, intentional campy horror films are great. Not gonna lie there.

"On the subject of eheh, Troll heheh two, a 'so good it's bad' movie's always got more entertainment value than a plain bad film. Sleepaway Camp Two's the perfect example of awesome crappy films. There's also Street Trash."

Well Michael, you got your wish, two sentences in and you started a pretty nice conversation. Fuck yes! Charisma motherfuckers!

I Know What My Fortune Is
"Course I came here, where else would I'd have gone?" Michael shrugged. "Nah man, Ain't your fault. It was my fault for freakin' out." Externally Michael looked like nothing was wrong, but inside, well he felt like shit. Jonathan blamed himself for Michael's mistake. He had no idea that Jonathan took it so badly. All because he got a little spooked at the theater... "You know I didn't freak out because a' you or anythin' right?" Michael smiled as best as he could. "Just got paranoid of some shit, family matters, y'know?" He kept reminding himself, there's always next time, it's not over yet. "Fuck it, we're here to have a good time, yeah?" Michael was pretty sure Jonathan didn't want his night ruined because of Michael's piss poor sob story, so he'd have to wait until later. He figured he'd change the subject, lighten the mood.

Michael had all the time in the world right now, he figured he might as well make the most of it. "How's everything been doing with you by the way? Haven't talked with you in a while, kinda been hopin' we'd go do something this week." Michael smiled. "This party's gonna be great though,even if everyone 'cept me is gonna be shitfaced by the end of the night!" Michael laughed. It was kind of ironic how despite his reputation, he wouldn't touch a cigarette or a beer. While Michael absolutely abhorred cigarette smoke, he was fine with alcohol, it didn't stink up the place nearly as bad. He wouldn't drink it, but it wasn't on him to judge people. Everyone's got their vices. Some like a good smoke, some like a good drink. Michael liked a good fight in an old dirty bathroom. He wasn't sure if that was much better. Tomato-Tomoto he'd have guessed.

He'd wonder how the party turn out though once it gets really active. Hopefully some drinking games, anything to get a good show going. One of the positives of alcohol at a party was that you'd be able to treat it like a spectator sport as much as an actual sport. You didn't need to drink a beer or two to see something funny, let someone else do it. The shit you see is always entertaining. Certainly beats the school dance. Large crowd of people in a sorta small gym (the gym wasn't too small, but it certainly felt like it when you have a metric fuck ton of people filling it up.) with bad pop music blaring just wasn't too interesting to Michael. Not much to watch. Just a blur and some noise. Nothing worth seeing to him. Hated the loud music, with the bad bass speakers. The loud hum of people echoing over and over. He'd always disliked loud crowded places. Even more so when the area was louder than he was. When you're known for being the loudest kid in your class, you learn what too loud is very quickly. Specifically, a single decibel louder than you.

Michael turned to Jonathan again, his smile still far from faltering. "So uhh, whaddya plannin' on doin' here, tonight?" While he waited for the party to get going, he'd may as well catch up and keep the conversation rolling. He hadn't seen Jonathan in over a week after all.

I Know What My Fortune Is
"Auuugh, please stop wit' the puns, you guys are killin' me!" Sometimes puns are okay. Sometimes, they're even funny. But name puns? That's just torture. Damn, poor some-guy. Well, now we know his name's Wayne, at least there's that. He nodded towards Wayne, flashing a quick grin.

He turned back to Junko and Darius. "In all seriousness though, this a good setup you got, Jay." There was a lot of people already here, and more coming on the way. It was definitely gonna be packed by the end of the night. Good thing it was outside, Michael didn't like enclosed spaces enough, let alone ones filled with large groups of people. "Can already tell it's gonna beat one of Darius' parties." Michael chuckled. Darius probably didn't like getting poked, but fuck it, he could take it. He can certainly dish it anyways."Ey Dee, don't feel bad man, 'least you won't be losin' your Nintendo this time!" Besides, it was punishment for the puns. Waiddaminute... Michael gave his trademark hyena laugh. Michael, you fucking hypocrite... PUNishment... He turned to Darius again. "Hey man, relax, I'm jus' bustin' your balls, right?"

He saw Jonathan greet him. "Ayy-hey man! Glad you could make it too, Johnny!" Things were still somewhat awkward since their date happened, but Michael wouldn't let it show. He knew damn well it was his fault for messing it up, and he'd take responsibility for it. He just had to wait for the right time. He stood around the group exchanging greetings before he decided to find a seat. He wasn't really hungry or thirsty in the moment, the five hour energy still leaving a bad taste in his mouth, so he skipped the food for the time being. He decided to sit by Jonathan, maybe start a conversation. "Hey man..."

I Know What My Fortune Is
Michael had, in all honesty, felt like shit since his date with Jonathan took a sour note. He knew it was his own fault. He should have told him a bit less abruptly. He messed up. He wanted to apologize profusely, wanted to make amends somehow. Well, that's why there's always second chances. Maybe not tonight, but soon. Hopefully.

Figured he'd go to the party though, he knew Jonathan would be there. The Sadie Hawkins dance just seemed like shit anyways. Anything ran by the stiffs wasn't gonna be too interesting. But of course, since this isn't a school party, he knew he could expect drinks and smokes. 'Course he wasn't a drinker, but at least the scent of alcohol was tolerable, and at least this party was outside, so he didn't have to worry about dying of lung cancer from second hand smoke at the age of thirty three. He didn't bring much to the party, 'cept his phone and a bottle of five hour energy, and if needed he could go on a food run or something, his bike's not too far from the site. Michael saw the camp fire, and downed his shit tasting insomnia inducer. Scratch that, he had a phone and an empty bottle of five hour energy. Blegh.

As he walked towards the group, he tossed the little plastic bottle to the side, hoping to hit the trash can. It didn't, it just kind of bounced off and hit the ground. Fuck it, he wasn't turning around to pick it up, let a pigeon eat it or something. We need less pigeons anyways. Would a pigeon eat a five hour energy bottle? Fuck if Mike knew. He wasn't a bird expert. All he knew is those annoying bird fucks liked to shit on everything. He walked towards the group. Yep, there's Junko, Jonathan, some guy, Darius and Raina, (the dye job duo), uhh fuck, who was the some guy? Shit, was he a senior? Michael shrugged. Walking up to the group, he decided to finally make his presence known.


The Outlanders!
Yeah, I'm not really sure where to post this, but for a while I've been working on a post apocalyptic game that utilizes roll20. The only way I can really describe it is it's one of those really cool scenes from mad max personified as an actual game. War rigs and all. If anyone's interested here's a google docs where you can make your faction, and I will sprite them in the Hotline Miami style!


I'll have the rule sheet up when I can get it finished, as well as some proof of progress puush images when I get the chance!