Daydreams and the Mind's Eye

[Serpentine]

I think that's an appropriately wanky title.

A recent thread in Roleplaying got me wondering how many other people make up stories in their heads. So... I thought I'd start a thread and ask about it.
So. Who else makes up stories in their heads? And what sort are they?
A pretty private question, I know :smallredface:

Mine are mostly silly light fantasy type things. Packed full of Mary Sues, of course. One I have going at the moment is (...blush blush) about a dragon-girl who befriends a hunting prince in her human-form. During a particularly harsh winter she starts preying on livestock and he's among the people sent to deal with the ferocious beast. He eventually realises what she is, there's angst, and she, getting pretty pissed off at his abandonment of her, decides to masquerade as a younger daughter of an aging minor lord to join the school for the nobility at which the prince attends.
Dunno what happens next.Trite and terrible, I know, but it's for my benefit only, so ner :smalltongue:
Also, can you tell I like Tamora Pierce? :smallredface:

There's also the usual playing-out-imaginary-conversations. Some of those can get pretty fantastic, but I dunno if they really count most of the time.

[Innis Cabal]

“My name is Vasae Ikaru, twelfth son of the Ikaru line, blessed by the spirit of the celestial cat and its sign *what follows is a small symbol, it origin unclear*. What I hope to do in this book is to speak to you, dear reader, of the world that exists that you simple ones cannot see. My eyes were opened wide to the facts the world hold, and there is little truth in what you might read here save for that which you will read between the pages. Cover your eyes, gaze long into that abyss, that soft abyss that would seek to envelope you in the The Wheel of Fate and it hung in the air spinning as wheels do. Turn turn turn it did…and I watched it ever curious as to what it would land upon. And it landed down, and I wept for the man, taking forth the last of my cards that night, and it would be only a Tower that rose from the ground, and the man begged for his life, for only one card could truly act upon a person at a time, and he was struck by a force like ten elephants running in step. And he was spread out onto the floor, the stones breaking through bone and flesh alike, and his body oozed his vile and wicked life. And I left them all there dead and broken to see him, the Breeze that clears my mind, but I did not speak of these cards or actions to him, for he would hate me for them all. I know he would, and I would not strain that which I can hardly keep on my own power…

I sit in this alleyway…and I see the dripping halls of rancid beer…hops stinging my nose…the acrid pipe smoke of so many who have allowed their dreams to filter away so much like that puffy white that I can hardly stand to look into the air, least I see ones desires come solid. But I did not partake of such things…because I do not wish to grow weary of this world as they have, for if I did my hate would be slaked…and grow weak…and I cannot have that….no I can’t…for my blades would grow weak….and I would wither like a bitter tree…so tired…am I in this place. I left them all there…to weary to even bother taking away their pathetic lives they waste in dens of pride and self loathing…no bars to hold them, for their very souls are a cage they’ll never break free of. The King has tried these things, and I have attempted to stop him in this…for it is not a right or proper thing to allow into ones body in such amounts as they. I cried that night for he spoke to me kindly…to kindly for my soul to take. And I know I am changed, I feel it…I know it to be so true to you and I Oh World that the glory in its truth leaves me humbled. I am humiliated in this fact. So ashamed that he would trust a thing like me…why oh King do you not understand that I desired not to change, for my alliances can no longer be called certain, or right. You are a hateful thing to me…but you are the only one that I could call close….you are Justice. You are Virtue. You are my friend, and I will guard you. You and your Garden….

I saw a vortex today…grand in its fury, and terrifying in its glory. It gaped wide into a world not true, and I saw how the world would end. And I knew terror. The forest of Darkness crept along my vision as the wings of leather flapped in the air, cutting………cutting……cutting……cutting…..into my skull, I wanted them to stop. But I had no wings of my own to follow, and they ran, away from my net and away from the grumbling in my stomach that would never cease. Gilded Silver swam through torrents of white, and I dove into them, cut by their sharp sides, and bled into those torrents that were red. And in the distance the Vortex spun, and monstrosities the likes of which never seen poured forth, and through the veil over my window I saw them as what they were. Nothing. And all that lay around them grew Nothing….and I sought to flee from such a fate. But to slow were my legs, weary from the red…the beast still in my chest betraying me like baying dogs for a convict. And then I was nothing to. Home…home and away to those trees where I grew up….12 were the number, 13 born….only I left. Mother, father I do not hate you. I choose this life, for I am marked. And I must suffer as they do. How petty a thought I know, oh Sigil, but you are amused? You laugh in the window…and I hear it. Let me speak to you of the things I have seen…
I awoke on a shore, alone and cold as always, the Sun not present to warm me. Where did you go oh Sun? Did you hide to from that which was not…I want to cry but it stole the will of those to burst forth….and that was the saddest of all. I saw a man and child today, the child smiled and laughed, its sound grating…grinding…smashing down, eroding the safety in my soul. I wanted it to end, the sound the child now became. What was that sound for? Did it spring forth from joy or ignorance. Ignorance it had to be. And I ceased it. Cut it short, and the other man to. Their laughter no more ringing forth. And I laughed into emptiness. For I knew not what it was that I had done, I assured myself. But the red that soaked my gloves told me…and I understood the step I had taken. But they were unmarked, and meant nothing to this world.
Now ask me who it is I wish to sit atop that peach tree, who would dine on the flesh of the fallen and bring charity to the world where there was none…I know the answer to it….the world loves me to tell me.. But it torments me…for only through this can I see….and no one else. So I will give it forth to the King. For the King must see what I see. And the Queen who is so close, her falcon….me….seeing the pearl top of the dome….she must never see what the falcon sees. Men and Women both seek to bring about a universal equality…how stupid and uncaring. Are we equal to a dog? Or a child? No. We are not. We are stronger due to age and wonder. And why should we be equal with that which we eat? Why must we be equal to one another? Are we not born to be different? I think we are….I know we are. I am no leader, but the King and the Tyrant were born to be. Who am I to stand in the way of such an order? I am a Cat….an Empty Vessel. That is what I am. And will always be….forever until the day I die. He told me, the King, to not call him such…to stand with him and be his friend…but why? I am what I am, is the King meant to rename me? Could I be renamed? No…there is never such a hope…ever in this world we are only what we can make ourselves be…no King has the power to change ones station. But the real question is…do I want my station changed? Do I want to be an equal with those rulers? Could I hand my old life away to another and take the mantle of leadership?


I think not…so I can never be equal to the King…never be able to beat the Tyrant, for it is not my place to take on that who could make this world right. I am the shield bearer…I am the spear presenter. I am he who stands next to the Lord or Lady, and I am the one who will take the arrow meant to slay them. For my life has no value in the light of theirs, and it never has. I am a wretched individual, but I stand above those unmarked. Even the Sigil is meant to decide who is better, who is more right, in this world. I know this to be fact, I have seen its power in places even the Tyrant has not. I am the true viewer of its power, that is why I am kept around, for I seek the answers…I seek the right path for this Sigil and all who bear it! So many notes…so many hours given to its research. I have killed to get the information. Stolen inside the places of great learning….to know what I know now. I have seen answers to questions to dark to speak. I know who sits beyond the void. Her name is Sul. I know who seeks to destroy us, its name is the Void….and they together will fight my Tyrant…and my King…and they will lose. Why do you ask Oh Sigil? Because there is Nothing in them, and Nothing can never be higher then something in this world. They are the basest on this cycle, beneath even the creatures of the earth and sky, they are more wretched then I.

But I am amused to see these Void Creatures now…no longer am I in that forest of Darkness…no longer afraid am I to know their place. For they have fallen to my fans, to my magic…and I know a place where they bastion, and it is covered in fire. Fire to burn them should we present a united front! The Sigils will fight there….yes…we will….and we will win. Because that is the right way of the world. We are higher in station and power and in this….we have earned the right to throw them back against the tide of the world. They will break on our surf…be blistered by our fires…(
Loving charity. The sigil breaks the spirit of its owner, wrapping its destiny in a way that only the most masterful of servants could possibly do. The eye that is marked gazes into the world dead…it seems almost as if that tell me “I am wrong” and that my other eye is right, seeing a world of greens and purples and an orange yellow sun. The moon cracked and shattered mocks me here in this plain, and the stars it swims with only add to its laughter. The cold wind pass’s through the grass and it whispers soft words to me, the comforting words I sought so long to hear.



“Watch over them, and take them to her…for she is the ruler that will set this world right Vasae. Vasae! Listen to our words for we are the children of the mother you forsook, Tunare would take you back, but you follow another, and she is the Queen that will reign the Sigil bearers in. The snake and the circle..coil not just in my window. It sits on the bodies and souls of others. The Sun shines forth, marred only by its scar…and its father to. A link? Surely this is something to report. How could the link be so….like chain? Binding? Perhaps? Speak forth little spirits…and tell me what you see. The world is silent, the empty that fills between gnawing, only its screams answer me now…how long ago on the Island did it speak so clear. The fire crackled, the water sloshed…the earth so silent yet to strong to stay…and the wind….always the wind! It sang in terror! It whispered in my head and no matter how long I clasped my ears it fit between my fingers, so subtle….it sang….it SANG TO ME!!! No one else! Why?! WHY JUST ME! Gods……I want to see this world right….would it all end?


This suffering? Would he, the King, be alright? Would the Blood he spoke of end with a whimper, and fall into the torrent that not months ago mine did? Would that make them mingle? Would that make us flesh? Or would forth born be created another, to strange for us to name? Where is your answer oh wind? Do you find it too hard to speak back to me? No….you know…I know you know….you always knew….but you will not tell….for I know too. Nothing would come. All is ash in flame…all is water in water. Shadows….send me to sleep again? Where is the Nothing that would return me…had they gone? Or had they moved…I search forever for them now….for only can they tell me the answer. Who rules now….who sits on that empty throne. Could it be…them?
thinking this mark in my eye to be nothing more than fated disaster. But a path I found and wish I had not. The Sigil is not that of a kind master, it is a cruel and twisted plot…to bring us together. For we are destined to be friends, though we may not care for one another at all, it matters not to the Sigil….nothing matters to the Sigil. But friends we will be. For it is what the Sigil desires, laughing in that window to gaze at the World, and to see what it does, for it will do what it always has….it will unite. Unite and bring forth clarity through murky solitude and silent companionship. It blesses the body and the mind with its image, but grants nothing to help us, denying us even our simple senses to make us ready for our new life! We must suffer….be in pain and to worry, to hope for a better life for that is the bitter harvest the Sigil tries to bring to bear. We are nothing more than a grove of limes, and we are not yet ripened, our pith to bitter and our juice to small to be worth taking from that tree. But worry not Oh World…we are not the sort to fall to the plagues of insects and the torrential weather to not bear our fruit! We are powerful trees that will stand in the path of the world that seeks to drown us in chaos and void. Have you heard? The call of the Sigil? I have seen monsters, upon which no story could be made.


They are made from the wicked things you dare not view, and feed off the injustices of the world. No Oh World! Monsters are not that which destroy…they are those that bring order! For only a monster would desire the world to be created in their image, only a true monster would be possessed by its own will to do harm to others to make a vision of a world that no one else can see. You say then that I would a monster be? Nay, I am a servant to the pantheon of perverted images. Nothing more am I. I am but an empty vessel for the World…you, and all others to work through. And I choose to do so with a will that no other creature can possess for I am the one who Hangs for the sins of the Monsters. The sin that only carries with it the hate of this disastrous world. So many Sigil Bearers exist in the world, and I…I am commanded to find them all, calling forth through the darkness to find the points of light that will make a new sky! But do you understand why it is that I am afraid? Afraid of a World, Oh World, ruled by a Tyrant…a Queen so devoid of things that only a ruler of a cruel magnitude could lead? No…you would never would you? Because you are not possessed of a tyrannical will, you do not employ those that would push you to form such a worrisome World view….would you? Of course you wouldn’t. That would be cruel to you, so young and small in this time. You did not yet even see the leaving of the gods, knowing only that they did such and now return.



The darkest of all things is not the sky at night with no moon and only cloud. It is not the human heart least what those with more….romantic views would have you believe. It is friendship. Friendship will lead you away from paths you would normally take, to take your heart and make it not of your own soul or mind. It is a darkness that gnaws warmly through you…and it is a darkness you have no choice but to invite into your own life. It is insidious…it is a serpent….and we are nothing but empty circles. Be it that I had friends before with a World view without the Sigil, but I know now that this is folly for all without the mark are to be buried when the world is remade in the image of a Tyrant or a child. Hail to three, the marks of those who could take the reins of the pitching Chariot…hail to two who will, and to the one who lays broken under the wheel..I give you my sorrow and sadness…for you were the best after the child to take control of what you could but now..our hopes rest on the shoulders of a child not old enough to shave. I write my sorrows for him as well; for he is one who must know sadness…I do feel so sorry…could he forgive me for the things I did?


Yes…he could but will he? No…I don’t think he would…it’s not like him to forgive such a thing. Betrayal…is that all that I can do? Sigil…is this your fault…do you make it so we suffer no matter what we do in our lives? I have cast aside so much for you to show you what I will do…to make it so that She is on the seat of power…but yet you desire more? My sacrifice was not enough….yes I understand, for it was my own will to do so….and that means that it did not count…didn’t ever count. I was a fool….but not the largest of them. I am more the hanged man every day, condemned by my own actions….controlled by a string I never wanted to see…fate…so funny…do you laugh more at me now for my actions? Or do you think it amusing that I would jump at the shadows I so long ago slept in with little issue? Cruel are you Fate to allow me such worry…I hate you…and this world most of all. Can we free ourselves…from the Sigil..I had always wondered…if it were possible to do such a thing. If we could what then? Would this eye of mine see the world for the first time? Or would it remain blind, like all the hurts and harm that we would suffer through to deal with this unkind wind that blows across the plains we find ourselves so alone in. Would the voids end? Would she leave us be and try to take another world down? No…The Tyrant seeks only to bring about the end of this chaotic world and right it again. And I must help for that is what I was born for.

The perfected unity of the world….all things in its place….it’s so broken
A village once sat on the sea, fishing its life away as its homes were devoured by salt. There was nature there. There was life. But the Sigil it said to me “Vasae….how pitiful you are….slay them, they bring diastour into the world.” And though the Queen not commands me, I will bring them low to humble grace. Months passed as I grew into them, years….so long….they loved me…trusted me. And I watched their hateful actions, the young boys taken to slaughter in the name of “Gods”….the young girls…so young as to be budding, bear children by the same boys….hateful….disgusting….their actions corrupted the world….it brought those black torrents….they were the source of the nothing. Should they have had the Sigil it would clean their sins. It would show them to me….to save them.


I can save them…but they would bring the torrent back to the world. I cut them from the world, one by one. Slowly. Ever…so slowly. And their bodies…bloated by hate…..fell to birds. Birds my message come forth to me, and seek her who knows only the answer that she should know. Wings of purity…forgive me, it hurts this divine job. It is not the empty that makes me sad. It is that no one would tell me “You are wrong!” for me to say forth “I KNOW!” We all know the Sigil. We see it…feel it every day. It is always there. Dark Gods….the Sun….what could it be? I know. I know I know. It is a binding…that links all those loved by the world together. It knew we would fall to adversity alone but together we strive to fight harder. It is this Sigil that binds us. But they must have suffered. Why do they always suffer. It makes it hard to reconcile the fact that they will die if they do not follow the source of true suffering. A TYRANT! Queen Tyrant, I see you. I feel and here you. I know you. I will not gaze into the monster.


Through this sash I have seen

A wraith of darkness and hate…spiraling forward to devour me and the King. He speaks so nice but it is lies. Lies and slander to the world. He is to dangerous…a monster of the top order. But none were like the one I took it from. A swirling demon…mouths so many stood…open and screaming….The Devourer….the Soul Devourer….and the sad truth…he was hope. Blood walking…shadows and voids that stepped like man. Wolves who were not wolves…demons in the skin of children….made from insects that boiled in feces…disgusting brats. Mothers breast feeing from vipers. The world is rotten like an apple left to long in the sun…and its reek of sweet decay fills my nose. Was the sash a good steal? Or was it destined for me to take? I ask myself this every now and then, but the answer comes up empty…like everything else. But that’s the amusing part isn’t it Sigil? I too empty, so is my reflection on the world casting my opinion? Or is it the world that reflects on me?
I sat in the sky…in a palace of green, more wings…more cutting…..cutting….slashing….keen sound like glass on glass. Plants moved…and not rustled. Never rustled only walked. Wings of water sang forth to cease the walking. No idea how to live in –this- world. Must flee. Must….what was that? A creature swimming, a toad made of liquid….how can liquid swim….through more liquid. It boggles me. I will keep it.

Date marked 2 weeks in the future

I crushed it, that water moving water.

Shattered….broken again is my mind in this sorrow filled place. I see creatures of the void seeking the land of Lava…I left the King in this place. Did I do right your mighty Highness? Tell me the answer for I am losing my way…from you….and to her. If she finds out….I will be killed, and you will follow to save me, as you promised. Why did you do that oh King? I am a servant and nothing more…..you dated to bring me to give me hope and you will throw it away….like dust….like ash….you make me pity the world….all I can say is this…I hate this world….that birthed you into the child you were. And I hate this world…for making you have to come to me….Why…for I too am corrupted….because it is the way of the world…so long in my wanderings….that I would be as you but not. And now you ask me shall do nothing but what is meant to happen.


And in the gathering of the Sigils….shall we unite the front for the vision of Peace to see. And the gods will be humbled before us and our might….for they will know we were their chosen….we are not they who they were never to be. I cling to the fear they will know of us. And come to speak. The spirit world…the world of the elements is tainted. I can feel it in my pull and draw….they hate us. They fear us. I seek salvation in their fury, but empty as always am I.
Xiava is Queen, and I bend my knee to her. She is that which will right this world to its proper and expected form, and when all sets into its purity of form, the sun will set for good, and I will cry only tears of pity for I know what I do is wrong. She will kiss the children with lips stained with rust, the Sun and its father will lay in chains, and Ghosts of the past will surge forth to carry her words like gulls dying at sea. And I….the empty one….will gaze back once more into that abyss….and I will ask it to gaze back into me. For the purity its folds hold can only wipe me clean of the monstrosities I have committed in the name of the Sigil…and the world that I so hate…for it has birthed a child like you. I would almost pray for rage to fill me, to show me my actions are more than just shadow plays built to amuse her. For the Queen will see all when the sash is granted to her, for only in time can such an event not transpire. But the King will raise in the south, and do battle with her, and he will lose…for I seek only to place the right one on the Throne that will stand at the top of the tower that we call World.

More stories….I know them all so well. Two hundred years….two hundred and nothing done. Am I so useless like they said? The Cat, they spoke to me, saying the lazy would be my path, and pampered I would wish to be. But I live in velvet and pillows, a warm and soft Breeze comforting me when I am troubled, and the King to guide. The steps….they are so far apart. Who am I following….and why is he walking before me? Can you answer that? Whoever walks before me….why….

I hate this world…..that would birth a child like you. And forever be the servant you desire most, for I rather bend knee to Kind then to Uncaring.

I make up and write things like that on a fairly normal basis.

[Xiander]

As I already commented in the other thread my head is full of stories. Not even intentionally, I just think it is their natural habitat. Most of my stories are turned into roleplay characters or plotlines, but I do have a wish to write some of them down in book form at some point.

One of many stories I wanted to write but never really got to writing:
In a small fantasy kingdom, the night before the young prince should be coronated, the crown disappears. Seven of the kingdoms most important and powerful people are locked in the top of the traitors tower and given till dawn to find out who stole the crown. Each one of them had the oppotunity and motive to do it, and all of them know that the guilty one will go straight to the gallows. They also all have closely held secrets which they try not to spill.
Lots of intriuge and fingerpointing will take place, and i had a surprise ending planned.. I wonder if i will ever get it out on paper.


Trite and terrible, I know, but it's for my benefit only, so ner
Also, can you tell I like Tamora Pierce?

Don´t be so hard on yourself. A story is nothing but a set of events no matter how trite. What makes a story great is the telling.

Also I really should try reading Tamora Pierce.

[Fri]

I've been making stories inside my head since my earliest memory. Back then it's usually sentai-ish superheroic type with me and my friends as the characters. I stopped making them around... highschool or middleschool.

I created a complex universe back then, with aliens and cyborgs and such.

Well, more seriously, I still create stories in my head now of course. How could I write fanfic or have plot for my LPs if not!

[Ravens_cry]

I always have a dozen and one story idea flying around in my brain. The trouble is pinning them down long enough to write more then a paragraph about them.
Right now, I have an idea for girl child soldiers fighting a magitech world war 1 protected by clay golems, shooting magical machine guns powered by blood.

Another idea is an ocean world, think a hot neptune, terraformed by humans since none of the other races want it, all of who are DEFINITELY not rubber forehead aliens. The one struggle is figuring how they get the solid material to build solid structures. Under ocean mining, thousands of miles down? Separating out dissolved minerals? Cracking CO² for the carbon? All of the above?

Set in the same universe is the budding friendship between the United Solar Territories ambassadors adopted son and and the girl child of a quadrupedal race with bifurcated prehensile tails.
Still another idea is a human who stows away on a passenger starship and whose extra mass screws up the warp calculations and is flung into the future, a future where humanity is extinct. There is aliens however who like pretending to be human and are rather perturbed to have a real live human. Oh and he is being chased down by authorities who ostensibly want to put him in cold sleep until enough of other humans who are lost in time accumulate for a viable population. Assisting him is the AI in his tablet PC and any allies he can accumulate.

But wait there is more! In a largely forested world where humans are studying a species forest dwelling beings who decide gender at puberty, with more then human rivalry between genders, one decides they want to be a human.

I want to write this all of it, I want to draw all of it, a giant flying boat soaring over an ocean city, a furry creature like a cross between a wombat and a Little Fuzzy standing at a podium, a young man running from a robot security guard of inhuman design, children in trench coats and helemts holding magitech carbines with haunted looks in their eyes, huddled in a muddy wound in the earth, two children of very different worlds playing together in a feild of purple grass.

I want you to see what I see.

[Form]

A couple of months ago I was still writing a big story that revolved mainly about the protagonist being hunted by an immortal being who was sick of his immortality and wanted to die. The only way for him to do so was to use the protagonist to destroy the entire universe and himself with it.

To summarize the backstory:

A long, long time ago the immortal's soul was destroyed. In that universe that was actually not supposed to be possible and everything starting falling apart as a result of messing with the rules in such a grave manner. The villain became immortal because without his soul he was forever 'anchored' to the physical world and various people began to develop special powers as a result. Some were able to sense other souls, some had to feed on them to survive and others could use their own soul as a weapon.


Yeah, it's silly, but it was fun at the time. :smalltongue:

Nowadays I'm mostly thinking about possible scenario's surrounding a villainous character on a RP server. He's a necromancer who wants to start up a grand experiment and turn an entire island into his own personal laboratory.

[Serpentine]

If I meant stories you do or intend to write down, I would've put this into Arts and Crafts :smalltongue: 'sokay, I know it's a blurry line :smallwink:
Now, should I be glad that I'm not alone or sad that I'm not a unique and precious snowflake :smalltongue:

[Ravens_cry]

If I meant stories you do or intend to write down, I would've put this into Arts and Crafts :smalltongue: 'sokay, I know it's a blurry line :smallwink:
Now, should I be glad that I'm not alone or sad that I'm not a unique and precious snowflake :smalltongue:
Oh beleive me, the scenarios that I plan on writing play out in my head.I can see the haunted expression of little girl in a coal scuttle helmet, gripping tightly a gun to big for her cringing in the mud and the rain, while a clay golem, with eyes and mouth glowing with an inner fire, watches over her.

But I am selfish, I want you to see what I see.

[Form]

If I meant stories you do or intend to write down, I would've put this into Arts and Crafts :smalltongue: 'sokay, I know it's a blurry line :smallwink:
Now, should I be glad that I'm not alone or sad that I'm not a unique and precious snowflake :smalltongue:

Hey, I daydream(ed) about it. I just put the daydreams to paper and made use of them for other things as well. :smalltongue:

[TheCountAlucard]

Most of my daydreams end up being burned as fuel for gaming. :smalltongue:

[Xiander]

Most of my daydreams end up being burned as fuel for gaming. :smalltongue:

This.

And also even the ones i really want to write down, usually end up hanging around in my head clogging up the place.

There are however small stories that i will probably never get to use for any thing, which still crowd my head.

Most menacing is the one about a young man who in an attempt to find the toilet in a bar ends up in a smoke fogged beck locale where an old man is pouring over a chess set. Conversation is started and the old man repeatedly answers with chess metaphors in a way that makes the young man view his own life in a different perspective.
The story finishes with the young man leaving, decided on taking some very important significant action in his near future. The old man then moves a pawn.

[leakingpen]

A wide variety. Honestly, i let the stories go where they will in my mind, and the interesting ones i write down. i currently have(looks at list) 152 novel and short story ideas...

[KenderWizard]

As I already commented in the other thread my head is full of stories. Not even intentionally, I just think it is their natural habitat. Most of my stories are turned into roleplay characters or plotlines, but I do have a wish to write some of them down in book form at some point.

One of many stories I wanted to write but never really got to writing:
In a small fantasy kingdom, the night before the young prince should be coronated, the crown disappears. Seven of the kingdoms most important and powerful people are locked in the top of the traitors tower and given till dawn to find out who stole the crown. Each one of them had the oppotunity and motive to do it, and all of them know that the guilty one will go straight to the gallows. They also all have closely held secrets which they try not to spill.
Lots of intriuge and fingerpointing will take place, and i had a surprise ending planned.. I wonder if i will ever get it out on paper.



Don´t be so hard on yourself. A story is nothing but a set of events no matter how trite. What makes a story great is the telling.

Also I really should try reading Tamora Pierce.

That story would make a great LARP!

I daydream a lot, often about ridiculous things, sometimes about my D&D characters' backstories, sometimes about really Mary Sueish things, but it's allowed because it's all in my head!

[Burnheart]

I have always day dreamed, normally about me being in different fantasy worlds except now i have started DMing alot of my daydreams are about stuff that happens in the kingdom i created for my campain.

[Malfunctioned]

Since my mind goes off on very odd tangents I invented this word which is pretty much a complete cross-over of anything vaguely entertaining that I ever found.

Imagine than when you dream you enter a vast alternate reality. Billions upon billions of beings sleeping in immense storage buildings in an incredibly massive city full of towering buildings and busy streets. The energy of those dreams is used to power the city. But not everyone stays asleep.

Wakers have, well, awoken. They can explore and live in the city according to their own free will but will never remember a thing once they week up, they are essentially completely normal people. But certain ones are special, their dreams are so powerful that they gain self-fuelled powers that can come from any source they can imagine. They essentially become superheroes in a world of adventure.

And then there are Figments, fragments and personalities half-dreamed and thought that evolve into fully-fledged people with their own motivations and abilities.

Still rarer are the Binders, one to every zone of the world (which is divided into Dream City, Coast, Forest, Mountain, Desert, Rural, Industrial and Polar), Wakers who have gained the ability to absorb and take on the souls of dead warriors who don't want to give up the good fight.

The characters of this incredibly cliched story are as follows.

Michael Lone - Binder, currently holding the souls of an supernaturally agile duelist, a leather trenchcoat clad psychic, a superpower dance fighter, a skilled pugilist and a ninja.
Raegar - An ice demon, or possibly an alien, or maybe a genetically altered experiment. Either way he's a blue skinned, blonde haired, red eyed figment with immense cryokinetic powers only limited by the fact that the same liquid used for his powers is the same as the liquid that replaced his blood.
Johnathon 'Wolfgang' Feral - A former Waker cowboy whose physical body died whilst still in the City and thus become enternally trapped and turned into a figment. He can shapeshift between two forms with unique powers, a super-marksman cowboy and a superstrong werewolf.
Nikata - Catgirl with the powers of bodily possesion, merging beings and intagibility. Also possibly french...or maybe russain.
Hack - A giant hunk of muscle with horns and a launchable anchor on one hand. Nice guy, a little slow and quick to anger but that's kinda what you get for being a frankensteinien monster of destruction.
Lily - She's a human sized fairy with the magic of a sorcerer. Powerful and motherly.
Katya - Extradimensional green skinned alien space babe. Can open portals to allow quick teleporation.
Lode - Reptillian man with no fingerprints, no heat signature, doesn't breath, no heartbeat and no brainwaves. Also can turn invisible. Infiltration expert obviously.
Kiri - Shapeshifting nymph. 'Nuf said.
Meena - Hybrid of a Figment and a Waker, can create blades and weapons out of ambient material as well as allowing possesion of Wakers bodies in the waking world.
Rage - Former Roman Centurian who was killed for sympathising with Celts, ended up trapped in Dream just like Wolfgang. Gained mystical celtic tattoos that allow him to control hard light.


They fight crime.

Mainly caused by the shadow archtype of Michael splitting off when he first awoke and forming a separate being known as 'Hale'.

This also features Monopods excessively.

Yup, it is completely suckish but terrible enough to keep my entertained when bored. :smalltongue:

[DraPrime]

Hmmm, I used to do this a lot when I played D&D. Now I plan out my story (life, if you didn't get it) when I'm bored. Like, a good 10 years in advance. It's a peculiar way of passing the time.

[VioletRice]

I do this pretty often. I mostly end up making horror stories that never go anywhere. I would put them into the D&D game I'm dming, but none of my players like horror.

What happens to me even more often, is that I dream up weird pieces of clothing that also never go anywhere. :smalltongue:

[mucat]

So. Who else makes up stories in their heads?
C'mon, Serp! If I didn't make up stories in my own head, whose head would I make them up in?


There's also the usual playing-out-imaginary-conversations. Some of those can get pretty fantastic, but I dunno if they really count most of the time.
This I do all the time. Conversations with people I know now, with people I knew decades ago, with famous scientists and philosophers who died before I was born, and with fictional characters. Then, surprisingly often, the same topic soon comes up in real life...and there's that wonderfully surreal moment when I realize, "Hey, I already had this conversation...only last time, it was with Feynman, Hypatia, and Batman." :smallconfused:

[Teddy]

I daydream a lot. They're usually epic fantasy scenarios with some sort of technology factor in them. Most recent one:
Dwarves of a storm-racked island take to the skies as their doomed island mysteriously sinks into the ocean. Now they've become the masters of the elemental plane of air, piloting enormous metallic airships between their stongholds on continent-sized cloud islands drifting in an infinite thunder storm, where they mine for mysterious minerals with strange thunder properties (such as thunder iron, which stores electricity and grows darker the more it's charged).


This I do all the time. Conversations with people I know now, with people I knew decades ago, with famous scientists and philosophers who died before I was born, and with fictional characters. Then, surprisingly often, the same topic soon comes up in real life...and there's that wonderfully surreal moment when I realize, "Hey, I already had this conversation...only last time, it was with Feynman, Hypatia, and Batman." :smallconfused:

Lucky you. My conversations never take place. Never. Not even the most mundane ones. Perhaps I should play out conversations I want to avoid at all cost just to protect myself from them... :smalltongue:

[AsteriskAmp]

I normally have two types of daydreams:


Type 1: MSTing whatever I'm seeing, going from anime to real life events, I just get distracted and pop, it happens. It features three characters I made when I was 8, an completely evil one, a completely emotional one and a completely logical one, they MST events and films in real time in a their armchairs in my head.


Type 2: I daydream what NPCs are doing when away from the players, from the mundane to the adventuring and miscellaneous, this does tend to end up in my campaigns and usually screws over the players. Reached the church, and walks over to find it empty, the high priest is buying eggs at the local market. Want to buy scrolls? The local wizard is currently on a dungeon, he will be back on a week, probably... You walk to find the local inn completely fulled, several party of adventurers happen to have ended their quests recently. The reliable cleric that said would meet you at the dungeon in 2 hours... he got distracted by a butterfly in the way.

[Mando Knight]

Mine are mostly silly light fantasy type things. Packed full of Mary Sues, of course. One I have going at the moment is (...blush blush) about a dragon-girl who befriends a hunting prince in her human-form. During a particularly harsh winter she starts preying on livestock and he's among the people sent to deal with the ferocious beast. He eventually realises what she is, there's angst, and she, getting pretty pissed off at his abandonment of her, decides to masquerade as a younger daughter of an aging minor lord to join the school for the nobility at which the prince attends.
Dunno what happens next.Trite and terrible, I know, but it's for my benefit only, so ner :smalltongue:
Also, can you tell I like Tamora Pierce? :smallredface:

Ever read Dragon Half? The manga goes a good bit farther than the connected anime (as far as I've found), and also stars a half-dragon girl who wants to be with a hyper-popular human. (I think he's a pop idol and swordsman? Been a while)

...Only he has a personal vendetta against dragons, so she has to journey about to find the one magical item that can make her truly human while competing with a half-slime (that is, of the Dragon Quest variety) girl for the same item and the same guy.

[Burnheart]

C'mon, Serp! If I didn't make up stories in my own head, whose head would I make them up in?

That is a good point does anyone know if someone has invented a way of getting into someone elses head to make up stories?:smallamused:

Edit: theres no big grey block weird

[DraPrime]

C'mon, Serp! If I didn't make up stories in my own head, whose head would I make them up in?

That is a good point does anyone know if someone has invented a way of getting into someone elses head to make up stories?:smallamused:

Edit: theres no big grey block weird

Well there a rather famous movie made in 2010 about a similar concept...