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MULTIPLE LOVE INTERESTS IN A SERIOUS RPG... DOES IT WORK?
Posts
Nightblade
2723
Nightblade
View playlists
Closepost=148791
miscarrage
(you see miscarrages are often harder on the woman than the man)
Oh right, sorry. I got the two mixed up.
eplipswich
2728
But Harvest Moon is more of a simulation type of RPGs, where you players chose who you wanna love. There isn't really a fixed love story there. We're talking about multiple love interests as in a love triangle type of story and how it turns out. Love triangles in an RPG are hard to depict. And anyway Harvest Moon is not even centralised on romance...
Hmm...what about the "School Days" anime then? That anime has a serious love triangle that turned out wicked at the end. (Probably too extreme).
post=148895
This described about half of the retarded anime I've heard of. Except for the ending, the animes usually have some entirely stupid and unrealistic outcome as opposed to just a comedic tragedy.
Hmm...what about the "School Days" anime then? That anime has a serious love triangle that turned out wicked at the end. (Probably too extreme).
sunshinesan
534
Interestingly, School Days was originally a game, which is what we are talking about anyway.
With good and bad endings depending on what you did and your decisions in terms of each girl in the course of the game.
With good and bad endings depending on what you did and your decisions in terms of each girl in the course of the game.
WolfCoder
3554
Hmm...what about the "School Days" anime then? That anime has a serious love triangle that turned out wicked at the end. (Probably too extreme).
No. Just. No.
LockeZ
I'd really like to get rid of LockeZ. His play style is way too unpredictable. He's always like this too. If he ran a country, he'd just kill and imprison people at random until crime stopped.
5958
post=148800post=148781That makes it seem as if you're implying that all RPGs are like "action movies." Why can't RPGs be like "movies" and "action RPGs" just so happen to make up a large majority of them? I don't think it's impossible to see a romance RPG, or a mystery RPG, or a thriller RPG.
Romances in RPGs are usually about as well-done as romances in action movies. Adding complexity is not necessary when no one is paying attention anyway. As long as the hero gets the girl at the end, it's all good. Adding complexity causes the focus of the game to change, making people pay more attention to the love story, and therefore shifting the story into a different genre. For this reason, if you're making a game that's not about romance, it can often be a bad idea to spend much time and effort on it. Keep it simple.
Of course, there's an entire genre of games that deals exclusively with multiple romances - dating sims. They tend to be dreadfully un-fun, but they can also work well as a sidequest in a normal RPG, like Dragon Age: Origins.
However, personally, I didn't like how this was implemented in Dragon Age. The fact that I was only manipulating the romance in order to get bonus stats made it feel less real. Also the fact that you could actually have sex seemed totally retarded, like the otherwise very serious and mature game was suddenly marketed to 14 year old boys. It was insulting.
I've never seen an RPG that was a romantic comedy or an interpersonal drama. They pretty much tend to all be action plots. If you know of an RPG where the story is entirely about interpersonal relationships and has no fighting or espionage or villains, let me know.
S. F. LaValle
1069
post=149204
I've never seen an RPG that was a romantic comedy or an interpersonal drama. They pretty much tend to all be action plots. If you know of an RPG where the story is entirely about interpersonal relationships and has no fighting or espionage or villains, let me know.
This indicates you don't appreciate stories in RPG's at all, short of whatever makes it a war simulator. I don't think we're asking for a decent romantic comedy in RPG Maker format, we're looking to take a step up from token romance in games. Why not make them more interesting? Sure, the game might be about the gameplay, but that doesn't mean that the characters (or villains for that matter) can't be driven largely due to love (not so much of a stretch if you think about it, imagine a game with the villain from Wolf's Rain and his motives).
About the "write about what you know" debate, I'm against the logic. Bridging the points Mog brought up against the sort of thing Soli and Karsu said, good writing is at the center here. I would trust a virgin who writes characters well much more than someone who isn't as good a writer who happens to be married, or a total player. Any day. The reason is because good character writers are students of human nature. They don't have to experience love or relationships in real life to be smart enough to identify how they really work. Like Mog said, companionship is a basic desire and part of life. However, people's unique interactions with each other, driven by each person's own characteristics and personality traits, provides the basis for love and other relationship types.
If you've been in love, you know what has worked for you. If you understand people well and have studied their characteristics, you could know what has worked for any number of people, and create a body of work much more interesting and diverse.
I would trust a virgin who writes characters well much more than someone who isn't as good a writer who happens to be married, or a total player. Any day. The reason is because good character writers are students of human nature. They don't have to experience love or relationships in real life to be smart enough to identify how they really work.
My only problem with this is that I've never really actually seen this in practice.
I do! I read a lot and of course I keep track of the authors who pen the books I read.
Granted, I can't tell 'VIRGIN' but I have noticed a slight correlation between "this book has awful characterization oh wait the author lives alone with his 12 cats"
And don't get me started when I was in the writing clubs in high school and college.
Granted, I can't tell 'VIRGIN' but I have noticed a slight correlation between "this book has awful characterization oh wait the author lives alone with his 12 cats"
And don't get me started when I was in the writing clubs in high school and college.
post=149343
I do! I read a lot and of course I keep track of the authors who pen the books I read.
Granted, I can't tell 'VIRGIN' but I have noticed a slight correlation between "this book has awful characterization oh wait the author lives alone with his 12 cats"
I am wanting to hear names of these mysterious writers who automatically have bad characterization because they have not boned 'x' skank/whore/hambeast.
FTR, Stephenie Meyer is married.
And don't get me started when I was in the writing clubs in high school and college.
Two words: Sturgeon's Law.
I am wanting to hear names of these mysterious writers who automatically have bad characterization because they have not boned 'x' skank/whore/hambeast.
I get the feeling that I'm being accused of 'You're not good at writing love unless you're a mack daddy' and that's simply not true at all. I mean, really, where was that even implied? It's like those old "JUST BECAUSE I'M A VIRGIN, AND I HAVEN'T SLUTTED AROUND LIKE YOU, DOESN'T MEAN I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT...ABOUT LOVE" shit in high school/college.
If anything the entire conversation started a one off statement that wasn't really supposed to have any real weight in the discussion in the first place.
catmitts
4862
To NORA
Dublin 2 December 1909
………………………….
My love for you allows me to pray to the spirit of eternal beauty and tenderness mirrored in your eyes or fling you down under me on that softy belly of yours and fuck you up behind, like a hog riding a sow, glorying in the very stink and sweat that rises from your arse, glorying in the open shape of your upturned dress and white girlish drawers and in the confusion of your flushed cheeks and tangled hair. It allows me to burst into tears of pity and love at some slight word, to tremble with love for you at the sounding of some chord or cadence of music or to lie heads and tails with you feeling your fingers fondling and tickling my ballocks or stuck up in me behind and your hot lips sucking off my cock while my head is wedged in between your fat thighs, my hands clutching the round cushions of your bum and my tongue licking ravenously up your rank red cunt. I have taught you almost to swoon at the hearing of my voice singing or murmuring to your soul the passion and sorrow and mystery of life and at the same time have taught you to make filthy signs to me with your lips and tongue, to provoke me by obscene touches and noises, and even to do in my presence the most shameful and filthy act of the body. You remember the day you pulled up your clothes and let me lie under you looking up at you while you did it? Then you were ashamed even to meet my eyes.
You are mine, darling, mine! I love you. All I have written above is only a moment or two of brutal madness. The last drop of seed has hardly been squirted up your cunt before it is over and my true love for you, the love of my verses, the love of my eyes for your strange luring eyes, comes blowing over my soul like a wind of spices. My prick is still hot and stiff and quivering from the last brutal drive it has given you when a faint hymn is heard rising in tender pitiful worship of you from the dim cloisters of my heart.
Nora, my faithful darling, my seet-eyed blackguard schoolgirl, be my whore, my mistress, as much as you like (my little frigging mistress! My little fucking whore!) you are always my beautiful wild flower of the hedges, my dark-blue rain-drenched flower.
JIM
Dublin 2 December 1909
………………………….
My love for you allows me to pray to the spirit of eternal beauty and tenderness mirrored in your eyes or fling you down under me on that softy belly of yours and fuck you up behind, like a hog riding a sow, glorying in the very stink and sweat that rises from your arse, glorying in the open shape of your upturned dress and white girlish drawers and in the confusion of your flushed cheeks and tangled hair. It allows me to burst into tears of pity and love at some slight word, to tremble with love for you at the sounding of some chord or cadence of music or to lie heads and tails with you feeling your fingers fondling and tickling my ballocks or stuck up in me behind and your hot lips sucking off my cock while my head is wedged in between your fat thighs, my hands clutching the round cushions of your bum and my tongue licking ravenously up your rank red cunt. I have taught you almost to swoon at the hearing of my voice singing or murmuring to your soul the passion and sorrow and mystery of life and at the same time have taught you to make filthy signs to me with your lips and tongue, to provoke me by obscene touches and noises, and even to do in my presence the most shameful and filthy act of the body. You remember the day you pulled up your clothes and let me lie under you looking up at you while you did it? Then you were ashamed even to meet my eyes.
You are mine, darling, mine! I love you. All I have written above is only a moment or two of brutal madness. The last drop of seed has hardly been squirted up your cunt before it is over and my true love for you, the love of my verses, the love of my eyes for your strange luring eyes, comes blowing over my soul like a wind of spices. My prick is still hot and stiff and quivering from the last brutal drive it has given you when a faint hymn is heard rising in tender pitiful worship of you from the dim cloisters of my heart.
Nora, my faithful darling, my seet-eyed blackguard schoolgirl, be my whore, my mistress, as much as you like (my little frigging mistress! My little fucking whore!) you are always my beautiful wild flower of the hedges, my dark-blue rain-drenched flower.
JIM
catmitts
4862
To NORA
Dublin 16 December 1909
My sweet darling girl At last you write to me! You must have given that naughty little cunt of yours a most ferocious frigging to write me such a disjointed letter. As for me, darling, I am so played out that you would have to lick me for a good hour before I could get a horn stiff enough even to put into you, to say nothing of blocking you. I have done so much and so often that I am afraid to look to see how that thing I had is after all I have done to myself. Darling, please don't fuck me too much when I go back. Fuck all you can out of me for the first night or so but make me get myself cured. The fucking must all be done by you, darling as I am so small and soft now that no girl in Europe except yourself would waste her time trying the job. Fuck me, darling, in as many new ways as your lust will suggest. Fuck me dressed in your full outdoor costume with your hat and veil on, your face flushed with the cold and wind and rain and your boots muddy, either straddling across my legs when I am sitting in a chair and riding me up and down with the frills of your drawers showing and my cock sticking up stiff in your cunt or riding me over the back of the sofa. Fuck me naked with your hat and stockings on only flat on the floor with a crimson flower in your hole behind, riding me like a man with your thighs between mine and your rump very fat. Fuck me in your dressing gown (I hope you have that nice one) with nothing on under it, opening it suddenly and showing me your belly and thighs and back an pulling me on top of you on the kitchen table. Fuck me into you arseways, lying on your face on the bed, with your hair flying loose naked but with a lovely scented pair of pink drawers opened shamelessly behind and half sleeping down over your peeping bum. Fuck me on the stairs in the dark, like a nursery-maid fucking her soldier, unbuttoning his trousers gently and slipping her hand in his fly and fiddling with his shirt and feeling it getting wet and then pulling it gently up and fiddling with his two bursting balls and at last pulling out boldly the mickey she loves to handle and frigging it for him softly, murmuring into his ear dirty words and dirty stories that other girls told her and dirty things she said, and all the time pissing her drawers with pleasure and letting off soft warm quiet little farts behind until her own girlish cockey is as stiff as his and suddenly sticking him up in her and riding him.
Basta! Basta per Dio!
I have come now and the foolery is over. Now for your questions
Dublin 16 December 1909
My sweet darling girl At last you write to me! You must have given that naughty little cunt of yours a most ferocious frigging to write me such a disjointed letter. As for me, darling, I am so played out that you would have to lick me for a good hour before I could get a horn stiff enough even to put into you, to say nothing of blocking you. I have done so much and so often that I am afraid to look to see how that thing I had is after all I have done to myself. Darling, please don't fuck me too much when I go back. Fuck all you can out of me for the first night or so but make me get myself cured. The fucking must all be done by you, darling as I am so small and soft now that no girl in Europe except yourself would waste her time trying the job. Fuck me, darling, in as many new ways as your lust will suggest. Fuck me dressed in your full outdoor costume with your hat and veil on, your face flushed with the cold and wind and rain and your boots muddy, either straddling across my legs when I am sitting in a chair and riding me up and down with the frills of your drawers showing and my cock sticking up stiff in your cunt or riding me over the back of the sofa. Fuck me naked with your hat and stockings on only flat on the floor with a crimson flower in your hole behind, riding me like a man with your thighs between mine and your rump very fat. Fuck me in your dressing gown (I hope you have that nice one) with nothing on under it, opening it suddenly and showing me your belly and thighs and back an pulling me on top of you on the kitchen table. Fuck me into you arseways, lying on your face on the bed, with your hair flying loose naked but with a lovely scented pair of pink drawers opened shamelessly behind and half sleeping down over your peeping bum. Fuck me on the stairs in the dark, like a nursery-maid fucking her soldier, unbuttoning his trousers gently and slipping her hand in his fly and fiddling with his shirt and feeling it getting wet and then pulling it gently up and fiddling with his two bursting balls and at last pulling out boldly the mickey she loves to handle and frigging it for him softly, murmuring into his ear dirty words and dirty stories that other girls told her and dirty things she said, and all the time pissing her drawers with pleasure and letting off soft warm quiet little farts behind until her own girlish cockey is as stiff as his and suddenly sticking him up in her and riding him.
Basta! Basta per Dio!
I have come now and the foolery is over. Now for your questions
catmitts
4862
To NORA
Dublin 20 December 1909
My sweet naughty girl I got your hot letter tonight and have been trying to picture you frigging your cunt in the closet. How do you do it? Do you stand against the wall with your hand tickling up under your clothes or do you squat down on the hole with your skirts up and your hand hard at work in through the slit of your drawers? Does it give you the horn now to shit? I wonder how you can do it. Do you come in the act of shitting or do you frig yourself off first and then shit? It must be a fearfully lecherous thing to see a girl with her clothes up frigging furiously at her cunt, to see her pretty white drawers pulled open behind and her bum sticking out and a fat brown thing stuck half-way out of her hole. You say you will shit your drawers, dear, and let me fuck you then. I would like to hear you shit them, dear, first and then fuck you. Some night when we are somewhere in the dark and talking dirty and you feel your shite ready to fall put your arms round my neck in shame and shit it down softly. The sound will madden me and when I pull up your dress
No use continuing! You can guess why!
Dublin 20 December 1909
My sweet naughty girl I got your hot letter tonight and have been trying to picture you frigging your cunt in the closet. How do you do it? Do you stand against the wall with your hand tickling up under your clothes or do you squat down on the hole with your skirts up and your hand hard at work in through the slit of your drawers? Does it give you the horn now to shit? I wonder how you can do it. Do you come in the act of shitting or do you frig yourself off first and then shit? It must be a fearfully lecherous thing to see a girl with her clothes up frigging furiously at her cunt, to see her pretty white drawers pulled open behind and her bum sticking out and a fat brown thing stuck half-way out of her hole. You say you will shit your drawers, dear, and let me fuck you then. I would like to hear you shit them, dear, first and then fuck you. Some night when we are somewhere in the dark and talking dirty and you feel your shite ready to fall put your arms round my neck in shame and shit it down softly. The sound will madden me and when I pull up your dress
No use continuing! You can guess why!
