DeLarge

[SIZE=1]I don't critique things all that often, so I'm going to go ahead and basically say what I would have done differently with this story. It's not necessarily the best option, but I'm just giving you some ideas and pointers to try and improve the story in some way. I agree with the sentiment that running things through a spelling and grammar check before posting them is an absolute necessity. I know the first things my eye are drawn towards when reading something are any glaring mistakes, and frankly there are quite a few in this piece. Just write it up in a word processing program before you post it here - that way if your internal spelling and grammar check fails, you have a back-up. Waiting until someone is interested before you start being fastidious about these kinds of things doesn't really work, as people are less likely to be interested if there are glaring mistakes in the work. That said, I have read much worse, and it was far from unreadable in terms of mistakes. However, in terms of story, I would have to agree with Kenso in saying that the characters are a little thin. You say you're doing this as a quick introduction, trying to quickly get to where you started from originally, but if you saw it as a good place to start originally, why not start from there when writing it out here? It doesn't hurt to have the character retain some air of mystery to him - starting from Jackson being a fully-fledged Leaper and then gradually revealing parts of his backstory could be quite an interesting way of doing things. This would give you a more solid starting point than you seem to have here - if you've already thought about events that occur past Chapter 10 in this version of the story, then it could be easier to start from there and fill in, and flesh out his character from there. As for Master Kwon, give him more time in the story! The enigmatic mentor is always a cool character, so I would advise not giving away too much about him too soon. Keep going with this - the only way you're going to improve is by continuing and taking everyone's advice on board. Good luck, I shall be keeping up with this. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]I had an idea this morning, managed to flesh it out over the day and decided to post it here for a bit of feedback, and any thoughts and ideas you might have about it, before I post it properly. It doesn't have a title either, so any ideas about that would be appreciated. Remember, this is very much in the planning stages, so I appreciate any and all feedback and extra ideas you may wish to add to it. If someone wants to collaborate then I'm all up for it. [B]History [/B]Throughout history, power has lain with those in possession of a precious commodity, whether it be coal, gold or even oil. In the 19th Century, gold was more valuable than anything in the world, and similarly oil in the 21st. By the 23rd Century, the most precious commodity in the world was not coal or gold. It wasn't even oil. It was something that we had taken for granted throughout our history. By the year 2212, the world's oil supplies had completely run dry. The human race had drained every drop of the black gold from the recesses of the Earth and squandered it powering their cars. Fuel prices rocketed, and the search for an alternative fuel source reached it's peak. By 2218, a young scientist named Algernon Gray developed a method of converting standard car engines to run on clean water, which produced little to no emissions. However, by this time, greenhouse gases from burning oil in the form of various fossil fuels had affected the Earth's atmosphere to such an extent that the world's rivers and lakes began to dry up in an event known as the Great Drought, and the pollutant by-products of fossil fuels had polluted the oceans, making the water impossible to use as fuel. As such, clean water suddenly became the most precious commodity in the world. With no equipment readily available to clean and purify water, hundreds of thousands of people died of dehydration. [B]HydraCorp and Water Barons[/B] It was in 2220 that a company named HydraCorp sprang into existence, having invented a machine which purifies water and makes it clean enough both to drink and to use as fuel, in combination with Algernon Gray's engine conversion system. It wasn't long before HydraCorp became the most powerful company in the world, through both legal and illegal channels. The legal channels included the selling of the water purifiers to major international corporations, the illegal ones including the funding and supply of Water Barons. Water Barons were men employed by HydraCorp, under the radar, to distribute purified water at inflated prices to everyday people and return the profits to HydraCorp. They are, in essence, gangsters and organised criminals, running a water racket and corrupting society by depriving those in most need of one of the greatest necessities. [B]Scavengers[/B] There are groups, however, who work directly against HydraCorp and the Water Barons, and travel across the globe trying to find a single source of clean, fresh water. They are known as Scavengers, and have made it their life's work to find clean water, to try and restore the world to how it should be. They scavenge whatever they can to help them on their quest, whether it is weapons or vehicles, and take their mission more seriously than anything. [B]The World [/B]The World is divided into two different types of land: megacities and the tundra. Megacities are enormous, technological utopian cities, populated by the richest and most powerful people in the world. Megacity I, the central megacity situated in North America, is home to the headquarters of HydraCorp, and the Allied Parliament. The tundra, however, is a totally different place. Vast, desert-like wastelands separating the megacities. There is little to no built-up civilisation, just small villages made up of six or seven buildings every few hundred miles. Lakes and rivers have turned into enormous salt flats, oceans are vast and polluted. Aside from the villages, the only life that seems to dwell permanently in the tundra are tribes of men turned savage, who are known only as Marauders. Anyone they come across they capture and kill, and any village they attack stands no chance whatsoever against their incredible brutality and aggression. --- That's all the information I have thought of so far, if there are any gaping holes anywhere that are troubling you then please let me know. Anyway, we will be playing as a band of Scavengers seeking out a source of fresh water. The number of players needed isn't set in stone, but it will probably be around six or seven, each character with a specified role within the team. Basically, the story will revolve around this mission or "quest" to find a source of fresh water while trying to avoid or put off other Scavenger groups, battling the Marauders and the agents of HydraCorp including the Water Barons. One of the main enemies, however, will be the environment. As a Scavenger group we will be going through the tundra, which is relentless, harsh terrain, with desert sands, sandstorms and dehydration to battle as well as other humans. It's a story of survival, action and adventure, with camraderie and a little dark humour thrown in as well. I have some ideas about the style of the world as well - I picture the megacities to be much like [B][URL="http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b16/Blayze54/techno-utopia.jpg"]this[/URL][/B], very clean-cut, almost utopian, with an abundance of water and power in general. The tundra, however, is a very different place. Think the deserts and roads of Mad Max, a sort of post-apocalyptic wasteland - think grungy, leather and metal, spikes, armour and big guns, think armoured cars and tanks transporting the Scavengers. We're looking at road battles, tribes of leather-clad savages, just really grungy and punky. I like the idea of the two parts of the world, the megacities and the tundra as being as different as possible, really contrasting with each other, so if and when our party rocks up in the megacities, all hell is going to break loose. There's probably a way I can describe this much better. Anyway, I would really appreciate some feedback of any sort, any interest or ideas you may have and suggestions on ways to improve the story so it can be the best it can be. Thanks for taking the time to take a look at this. [/SIZE]

[FONT=Verdana][SIZE=1]I just realised last night that, as I normally only have a single bed at home, whenever I sleep on a double bed I have to take up as much space as possible. I slept on a double-futon last night at my brother's house, and ended up in many different positions. Diagonally across the bed and in a sort of crucifix-shape (which I did to see what it would be like to be Jesus) were just two of them.[/SIZE][/FONT] [FONT=Verdana][/FONT] [FONT=Verdana][SIZE=1]I also watch bits of films when I'm bored. I find it very difficult when I'm that bored to watch an entire film, so I watch the best parts of three or four films instead of one whole film.[/SIZE][/FONT]

[SIZE=1]I'm going to be away for a few days without internet, so don't expect a post from me until Wednesday evening. Hopefully I won't miss anything too important.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]This is the thread where you can share with the people of OB all those odd little things that you do that make you wonder if you are normal or not. This can be anything from arranging your CDs in alphabetical order to flicking the light switch on and off thirty times before you leave a room otherwise your grandmother will die. (By the way, this is in no way having a pop at anyone who actually suffers from OCD or any related condition - I realise it is a serious disorder and I'm not making light of it at all.) I have many little things that I do - these include the fact that whenever there are coins in front of me I will stack them in order of size - biggest at the bottom, going up to the smallest at the top, and that if I'm chewing gum, I have to have at least two pieces in my mouth - having just one doesn't seem nearly enough. I also talk to myself at considerable volume when I'm alone in the house, and occasionally, even when there is no music playing, I will do a little dance. I've even been known, on occasion, to spend an entire day pretending to be either a member of The Beatles or Michael Caine. Another one is that whenever I say something funny it tends to be in a West Country accent - I just find the accent hilarious for no real reason. So, tell us all what little quirks make you you. I have lots more which I will add once some other people have revealed their innermost secrets. Have fun! [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]Wow, looking at that list of laws, my character could only be in more trouble if he was an insane homosexual false-idol-worshipping traitor. On another note, is there going to be some kind of event coming up to push some or all of our characters together? I don't see it working too well if we're all spread out - that's part of the reason why I placed Hood in the city that Jess is heading to. [/SIZE]

[B][SIZE=1]"I'm H to the C, and this is how I roll, you got beef with me, kiss my A double S-Hooooole!"[/SIZE][/B]

[SIZE=1]I really don't have too many problems with the Olympics being held in Beijing. I don't think that a country's human rights record should be brought into account when thinking about a sporting event - there doesn't seem to be much of a connection between the two. Going on about the little girl being replaced by a "prettier model" who lip-synched is a little bit pathetic. It's not the end of the world, and I don't think that there should be all this scandal surrounding it. It's just a little girl lip-synching, for the sake of the maker. The only problems I have with the Beijing Olympics are: [B]1. [/B]I'm not sure that it's the best idea to hold the world's biggest sporting event in a city with such high levels of pollution. Haile Gebrselassie, in many people's opinion one of the greatest Olympic athletes, declined to take part in the Olympics because of his asthma, something which I think reflects the pollution problem well. At least the Chinese government put measures in place to reduce the smog levels before the events began, but it doesn't really seem like enough. [B]2. [/B]This applies to the Olympics in general, but that opening ceremony was a load of pretentious toss. I don't think it's necessary to spend so much money on the ceremony, which doesn't really have a point to it, and to put so much effort into preparing for it. It's possible that I also have a problem with the opening ceremonies because I'm not sure how our opening ceremony in London 2012 is going to compare. Dancing cockney chimney sweeps, perhaps? [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]English, born and raised. I've never lived anywhere else but South England, even though my extended family is spread right across the country. It's fairly typical of many of the stereotypes: rainy, cold and houses people filled with a vague sense of misery and depression. As for fun things to do, London is only a short journey from where I live, so there's plenty to do there, the London Eye, Tower of London, all kinds of shopping, gigs, culture and weirdness if you venture down towards Camden. It may seem like I'm complaining in a half-arsed way, but I really do love living in England, I don't think I'd trade it for anywhere else in the world. There's no other country in the world that does drinking quite like we do. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]Police sirens wailed and engines droned as the black-clothed figure ran and leapt across the rooftops of Neapolis. Spotlights tracked across the buildings, trying to spot the fast-moving figure. He ran at full pelt towards the edge of the building, and leapt over the chasm between that building and the next one, landing hard and rolling to keep his speed up. Looking up, he heard a helicopter, and looked up to see the police-issue chopper soaring above him. He was beginning to wish he'd been a little more subtle about his most recent hit. Marcone's man had been flanked by more security than usual, and he'd had to change his plans at the very last minute. It had been messier than he liked, but he had to roll with it. Marcone's man had gone down, but his security detail had phoned in support from any cops they could lean on. They had money and blackmail behind many cops in the city, and could call in heavy support when they needed to. They simply reported a high-profile murder, and SWAT teams, helicopters and half the cops in the city were out in force. He took another leap, landing crouched on the next building, taking off again at a sprint, dodging between the chimneys and TV aerials that covered the roofs. Keeping his head down, he launched himself across the next gap, a much larger one than before, and only just managed to grab onto the fire escape, his gloved fingers clamping around the metal rail. He hauled himself up with some effort, and began running up the stairs back to the roof. As he vaulted from the fire escape to the rooftop, he suddenly became acutely aware of the human presence on the roof. There was no police, strangely, but there were several large, grizzled-looking men with handguns now waiting for him. He swore silently to himself, and Marcone's thugs came walking towards him, the biggest one, apparently the leader, scratching his scraggly beard and speaking in his gravelly voice. [B]"The famous Hood. You think you can do whatever you like in this city without consequences, but the joke's on you this time," [/B]he said, smiling, [B]"You never killed Grigori. We had a tip-off that you were out tonight and used a decoy, idiot." [/B]A man stepped out from behind the security detail, and he recognised him instantly as Grigori, one of Marcone's top men, dressed stylishly in a white suit, the collar of his black silk dress shirt open, revealing a hairy chest and a gold chain around his neck. His black hair was speckled with grey at the temples. [B]"Who knew that this would be our chance to catch the infamous Hood," [/B]he said, his Russian accent thick, almost to the point of incomprehension, [B]"And we are not going to let this go quickly. You've caused us a great deal of stress, and you will be punished accordingly. Alexei, take his weapons." [/B]The big bearded thug stepped over to Hood, and patted him down, ripping his jacket open to grab whatever weapons he had. [B]"Grigori," [/B]he said nervously, [B]"He doesn't have any weapons." "Not even his bow and arrows?" [/B]asked Grigori, turning back to face his man, [B]"But he never goes anywhere without them." [/B]Suddenly, two arrows thudded into Grigori's chest. Other arrows flew into the chests, stomachs and heads of his security detail, including one in the eye of Alexei as he drew his gun. The entire group fell to the floor, bleeding out from arrow wounds. [B]"You think I wouldn't use a decoy, idiot?" [/B]said the real Hood, three buildings away, his targeting reticle locked down over his left eye, his bow in his hand and his hood pulled up over his head, cloaking his face in shadow. Slinging his bow onto his back, he took off towards the edge of a the building and leapt off. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]I think I'd like to know when I'm going to die, but only a couple of days beforehand. That way, there's no agonising wait for my own demise, but I know so I can live my last day as though it were my last day, have a last meal, settle my affairs, punch a major celebrity (possibly Jennifer Love Hewitt), the usuals. As for how, I may have mentioned this in another thread (the Gravestones one, maybe?) that I want to go out in a drug-fuelled sex heart attack. It's a noble way to die. Or, to be shot during a bank raid, naked except for a balaclava, sexually molesting a goat, tearing up the Bible and reading a copy of the Satanic Verses. This is all for one simple reason: the obituary would be hilarious for other people to read. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]I went into watching this with fairly low expectations - I thought it would just be cheesy and slightly irritating as the Buffy musical episode was. But I was pleasantly surprised - it was an interesting take on the whole superhero phenomenon, and although the whole idea of the villain being a nerdy loner outcast but with his heart in the right(ish) place and the hero being a colossal jerk has been done before, I felt this was an interesting enough spin on it to keep my attention. I also found myself strangely addicted to the songs - I kept listening to them after I finished watching the feature, and enjoyed them again on a second listening. I was quite surprised to see NPH playing a loser - I'm so used to watching him in [I]How I Met Your Mother [/I]and [I]Harold and Kumar [/I]that it was something of a shock to see him playing a character so different to the others. Nathan Fillion was also thoroughly enjoyable as Captain Hammer (incidentally, did anyone else think that Hammer's costume design was made to be an incredibly easy fancy dress costume?), especially his "the Hammer is my penis" moment, and his song in Act III. So, not normally the kind of thing I would enjoy that much, but I'm glad I watched this now. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]Which scenes in whic movies do you find to be classics? Is it the "I am your father" scene in the Empire Strikes Back, or the Mexican standoff in Reservoir Dogs? This is a place where you can go into as much detail as you like about what your favourite classic scenes are and why. For example, the first one that immediately springs to mind for me is Tom Cruise's dancing scene from [I]Risky Business[/I]. It's the epitome of doing something at home when nobody is watching - just dancing around to Bob Seger's Old Time Rock and Roll in your underwear. It's a funny scene, and to my mind a classic one. The next is the whole "you know what they call a quarter-pounder with cheese in Europe?" conversation from Pulp Fiction, and the ensuing conversation in the apartment block corridors. It's so well-written that it could really be a fairly mindless conversation you could overhear on the street, and it's fairly mundane conversation spoken by two unique characters - we are not normally shown hitmen as talking crap all the time. The third is another scene featuring a hitman, for similar reasons, and it is the opening scene from [I]Grosse Pointe Blank[/I], where John Cusack is preparing to shoot a man with a sniper rifle, while talking casually on the phone with his assistant about his high school reunion. It's such a bizarre inversion of what we would expect from such a situation that it always sticks in my mind. My fourth and final one (for now) is the scene in High Fidelity when Ray (the man who is currently seeing the main character's ex-girlfriend) comes to the shop to speak to Rob (the main character). It's hilarious watching the possible routes for the conversation to go down, from the polite and amiable conversation, to grabbing Ray and smashing his face in with the telephone, then kicking him relentlessly and ultimately dropping a TV on his head. Brilliant scenes one and all, and I may be back at some point to add a few more, but for now I'd like you to share your classic movie scenes. Enjoy! [/SIZE]

[B][SIZE=1]Name/Alias: [/SIZE][/B][SIZE=1]Adam Bloom/Hood [B]Age: [/B]27 [B]Occupation: [/B]IT Advisor (call centre)/Night-time Vigilante [B]Weaponry/Skills: [/B]Adam, as the mysterious vigilante known only to the press as "Hood," always carries a fibreglass, specially-weighted, custom-built bow and a quiver of arrows of various types. He carries arrows with poison tips (usually only some kind of fast-working anaesthetic - however, sometimes he has to use lethal force), arrows with explosive heads, armour-piercing arrows and a few other specialist types. For close combat, he carries a pair of kukri knives strapped to the inside of his jacket. Adam is a fairly skilled martial artist and knife fighter, however his main area of expertise is in long-ranged attacks. He is an expert marksman with his bow, and almost never misses his target. However, this is, at least in part due to the technology he employs - he has a fairly sophisticated aiming system which attaches to his ear. A small lens with a targeting reticle printed on it flips down in front of his eye, and helps his aim. The rest, however, is entirely up to him. His final area of prowess is as a free-runner. He has been training in parkour for a number of years, and is now quite proficient at it. He utilises these skills to make his way to and from vantage points across the city. His skill in the art still has a long way to go, though. [B]Description: [/B][URL="http://innergeekdom.files.wordpress.com/2007/11/trivia_0145.jpg"][U]Here[/U][/URL] is a picture of Adam in his "Hood" persona. When not fighting crime, he is usually kitted out in his work uniform, consisting of a pair of dark grey slacks with a long-sleeved white shirt and a dark tie, usually black or grey. He wears scuffed black work shoes while at work, trainers when not, and totally different footwear when he becomes Hood. He switches from shoes or trainers to lightweight but sturdy black boots, with soft soles to help him in stealth situations. Dark grey slacks are replaced with black trousers with plenty of pockets, and he wears a black hooded jacket over a black t-shirt. He keeps the deep hood up at all times, and keeps his knives under his jacket. His bow and quiver are slung onto his back until he needs them. [B]Personality: [/B]The stresses of leading a double life often gets to Adam, and as such it has become increasingly difficult for him to ascertain where his Hood persona ends and where his real life begins - the two have begun to bleed into each other. Working all day and then going out, running across rooftops fighting the "bad guys" at night can get to a guy. As such, he has developed two distinct personalities. Adam Bloom is outgoing, friendly and jovial, often cracking jokes at his own expense. He is, in essence, the life and soul of the party, although there aren't many of them around any more. Hood, on the other hand, has a much darker sense of humour, relying on gallows humour and sarcasm as opposed to Adam's light-hearted manner. He keeps himself to himself as Hood, never getting close to anyone or anything, keeping his distance from his targets. To deal with this diverse split, Adam has resorted to taking prescribed medication. He doesn't really know what it does or what it's called, but it helps him keep himself in check. However, even with the vague line between the two personalities, his agenda has never wavered. Hood stands for traditional values, and as such he does not discriminate between true villains and corrupt police officers or government officials - he will deal with all of them. Conversely, it also means that he does not draw the line at lethal force - if necessary, he will kill a target rather than simply incapacitate them. In doing this, he has made himself a lot of enemies on either side of the law - one of the reasons he keeps his identity hidden under a Hood, and also why he, as Hood or Adam, never lets himself get too close to anyone. Loneliness is the curse of the "hero." [B]Biography: [/B]Like many citizens of [I]Zeitgeist[/I], Adam was an orphan of the state. His parents were killed in a gangland "incident" when he was only five or six, and he was immediately put into care. The orphanages of the city were not up to much, however, and he was almost treated worse than he would have been if he had lived on the streets. The foster workers were rude and abusive, never actually hitting the children, but always threatening to. When he was old enough to "look after himself," namely the age of just fourteen, Adam was thrown out onto the street and made to fend for himself. This is where he learnt how to take care of himself in a fight, not learning one specific form of martial art, instead learning a bizarre combination perfect for surviving on the streets. He was taught how to use a knife, and soon discovered that he was a mean shot with a gun, whether it was a pistol or a rifle. He was soon snapped up by Franco Marcone, a local crimelord, who employed him as an enforcer. He was just sixteen by this time, and the life began to take it's toll on him. He became mentally troubled, and it climaxed in Adam taking an assault rifle to the orphanage he grew up in, and killing half a dozen foster workers. Due to this "slip-up," Marcone took Adam off the streets and placed him in one of his IT call centres, giving him a low profile and something a little more relaxing to give him some kind of mental recuperation. By the time he was 21, it was realised that he had cleared up any sort of mental distress that he could have suffered during his stint as an enforcer. Marcone offered him his old position back, but Adam was a changed man. He had seen what the city could do to people, and was determined to put a stop to it. He refused his old position, saying he needed something less strenuous, and began looking into ways he could change the city. He tried becoming a charity worker, but the charity he worked for turned out to be a front for a mob organisation - none of the money was going to charity, all of it to the mob. This was the point, at the age of 25, that he realised that the city was rotten from it's very core, and something had to be done. Outfitting himself as a vigilante, he torched one of Marcone's safehouses, and was almost caught. Through intense preparation, he decided he could put his expert marksmanship to use, and began experimenting with different weapons. He used guns at first, pistols and rifles, but found them too cumbersome to move with. It didn't take long before he thought of using a bow and arrow, something he had never tried before, but instantly showed talent at. He practised long and hard, and then ordered a custom-built bow and made his own specialist arrows. This was also the period when he began learning the art of parkour, utilising the new-found skill to make quick getaways. He developed his weapons and skills further, and finally created a new persona to encompass them: Hood. The name quickly became known, feared by some and hated by others, and he became a symbol of ruthlessness and vigilante justice. He is the first to admit his methods are not totally moral, but he views himself as a necessary evil. Adam Bloom is an ironic figure - a man who works for a crime lord, attempting to bring the criminals of the city down when he leaves work for the day. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1][B]High Fidelity [/B]- I go on about this movie far too much - it's just so funny, and the soundtrack is awesome, and I really relate to the character of Rob in a way I don't really relate with any other film character. [B]Hot Fuzz [/B]- how can you not love this movie? Funny, violent, action-packed, and utterly, quintessentially British. I've been a huge fan of Simon Pegg and Nick Frost for many years, since before they were doing films, and this is just the peak of their talents. [B]Fight Club - [/B]brilliant film - again, funny and violent, and deep too! Never thought you'd get all those in a film, but this one works fantastically. [B]American Beauty - [/B]the dark sense of humour running throughout this film gets me every time. Spacey is brilliant, and it appeals to every man who is stuck in a routine of total monotony. [B]The Blues Brothers - [/B]humour, epic car chases [I]and [/I]music? You gotta love this film from start to finish, no matter what kind of film you like. And I listen to the soundtrack in my car and have to stop myself from angering the police just so I can have an epic car chase. [B]Evil Dead II - [/B]cult classic for very good reason. Funny and violent (does anyone else see a pattern emerging?), and the soundtrack is amazing. A must-see. These are just off the top of my head - it's quite late and I can't really think much deeper than the really obvious ones. If I can think straight in the morning I may add a few more. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1][B]Summer Senses[/B] Dry, brown grass crunches underfoot, and the coolest of breezes brushes past the bare skin of my lower leg. Sunlight scorches any exposed body part, and gleams off the reflective surface of my sunglasses. The tiniest of beads of condensation dribbles down the side of the bottle towards my fingers, the icy-cold of the water refreshing the warm skin of my hand, and I tilt the bottle towards my mouth, closing my eyes in the ecstasy of the cool amber liquid rushing down my throat. The sound of sizzling fat assaults my ears, and after the initial shock my hearing adjusts, turning the crackling and popping into something far more pleasant. A few seconds after the sound comes the smell ? the comforting, homely smell of cooking meat which combines with the smells of fresh-mown grass. I bite into the hot dog and taste the combination of flavours dancing on my tongue. People surround me and we laugh, eating and drinking the summer away. [B]Challenge: [/B]Write a comedic 500-word story set in an office environment. No restrictions on characters or plot, that's all up to you. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]Even though I'm not from South London, I use cockney rhyming slang a fair bit. For those of you not familiar with the concept of cockney rhyming slang, basically it's an incredibly circuitous way of speaking, wherein you replace one simple word with a two-or-more-word phrase which rhymes with it. For example: "butcher's hook" means "look" "apples and pears" means "stairs" "dog and bone" means "phone" "mutton Jeff" means "deaf" "Adam and Eve" means "believe" "trouble and strife" means "wife" And so on. Google it if you need more examples. However, on many occasions, these two-or-more-word phrases are shortened to single words. For example, to "have a butcher's" means to have a look, being "a little bit mutton" means to be a little bit deaf, and so on and so forth. I also use North English slang quite a lot, seeing as one half of my family is from Yorkshire. Saying "nowt" or "nought" instead of "none" is a prime example. We also have all sorts of general English slang - "chav" and "ASBO" are two of the best examples, but they're quite hard to explain to someone outside of Britain. ASBO is a legal thing, meaning "Anti-Social Behaviour Order," which you can get for disturbing the peace, hooliganism, vandalism, that sort of thing, but it's come to mean a person with an ASBO, or someone you might expect to have one. Look "chav" up on [B][URL="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=chav"]Urban Dictionary[/URL][/B] (clicky) if you want to know what it means. But that's enough of my ridiculous British whimsy. [/SIZE]

[CENTER][SIZE=1][B]...Another Drink[/B] [B]"Fuck 'er,"[/B] Jonny said, loud enough so half the pub could hear, jabbing a finger at me, [B]"You don' fuckin' need 'er, alright?"[/B] I'm often ashamed to admit it, but Jonny's been my best friend since we were at primary school together. He's big, loud, crass and a bit of a slob, but he's been there for me any time my life has gone down the toilet, although his methods of comforting me were a little unorthodox. His usual tactic was to go on a long, expletive-ridden tirade about the opposite sex, outlining their shortcomings and concluding with an explosive crescendo of swear words. I'd be lying if I said it didn't help sometimes. [B]"I fuckin' told you she'd be trouble from the start, didn't I? You're never gonna learn if you don't start listening to me about this stuff." [/B] I'm not sure how Jonny had so much experience with the opposite sex - he was overweight, unshaven, with a greasy crop of dark brown hair on top of his head, and looked like if you touched him, he'd be sort of greasy. He smoked and drank far too much for an average human being, had no job, lived on his own in a crappy little bedsit next to a major railway line, and didn't eat anything unless it could be cooked in thirty seconds or less. [B]"Jesus, Jonny, lighten up."[/B] That was Dan. Out of all of us, Dan was the most attractive - he had dark, olive-coloured skin and jet black, delicately-spiked hair, and a tiny tuft of hair sprouting from his chin, in an attractive facial topiary kind of way, not an unwanted pre-pubescent way. While Jonny and I both generally wore t-shirts, baggy jeans and trainers, Dan wore tight-fitting skinny jeans and t-shirts so constricting you could see his nipples, even on a warm day. He was also a lot calmer than Jonny, and used far fewer expletives in his sentences. It seems weird considering how different we all are, but the three of us get along really well. We have those mock arguments and fights that all guys have, we play music together and generally have a laugh when we go out. They say opposites attract, and that isn't just true of couples. [B]"Look, Scott,"[/B] said Jonny, confidently bulldozing over Dan's contribution, [B]"You should never get into a relationship with someone who is so much better than you in every way. Ellie was smarter than you, she was better-looking, she had a better job - it's a wonder how you two stayed together for so fuckin' long."[/B] [B]"That helps, thanks Jonny,"[/B] I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm as I poured the rest of my third pint down my throat. I had called the guys and asked them to come to The Griffin, my local, as soon as Ellie had left, so I was a couple of drinks ahead of Dan. Bizarrely, though, I was still several behind Jonny, who was now surrounded by empty glasses. [B]"You're welcome,"[/B] he said, punctuating the utterance with an almighty belch, [B]"You're better off without her, mate. She was crampin' your style, anyway. Could you have been down here, having a good time with your mates if she was still around?"[/B] [B] "We're the only company you need tonight," [/B]said Dan, raising his pint glass, gesturing for Jonny to do the same. I thought for a moment before I felt a smile cross my face. [B]"I could do a hell of a lot worse!"[/B] I said, raising my pint glass too - we chinked glasses, and threw back whatever liquid was left in them, before Jonny slapped the table with both hands and got to his feet. [B]"Right, my round,"[/B] he exclaimed, to a hesitant cheer from Dan. Jonny was notorious for ordering the most lethal cocktails of spirits, for one simple reason: he was the only one who could handle it. The rest of us were paralytic before Jonny was really starting to get drunk - it was a display of his awesome machismo when it came to the art of drinking. [B] "Union Jack challenge!"[/B] he said, setting down a tray of shot glasses, three each, one filled to the brim with some toxic-looking red spirit, one with a white creamy liqeur and the last with what I could only assume to be Bombay Sapphire or some other form of blue liquid death. [B]"Drink!" [/B]Jonny shouted, and my arm lashed out to grab the red glass... That was the last thing I remembered of the night Ellie left me. My very next memory was waking up with a hangover I'll never forget. --- Pain. That's the first thing I felt the next morning. Blinding, head-splitting pain, burning against my eyelids and throbbing in the centre of my brain. After a few minutes of groaning, I managed to wrench my eyelids open and look upon the scene that was my flat. I had slept on the sofa, for some reason, and there were beer cans and bottles littering the floor around me. The blinds were closed, but even the tiny streak of silvery sunlight sneaking in through the crack was agony to look at. I was still wearing the clothes I had on last night, and they reeked of alcohol, smoke and sweat. My memories of any of the previous day were hazy at best, but from late afternoon onwards they became totally incomprehensible. The alcohol I had imbibed had not only suppressed my memories of getting drunk and the actions I had carried out whilst drunk, but it had also robbed me of my memories of the rest of the day as well. With a great effort and an incredible physical and mental struggle, I got myself to the bathroom, where I looked blearily into the mirror. I looked awful - my hair was even greasier than before, my chin was covered in awful, scratchy stubble and my eyes were bloodshot, crimson discs against my pale white complexion. I stripped off and stepped into the shower, incredibly grateful for the hot running water. I spent a good twenty minutes sluicing all the dirt and grime from last night off my hair and body before stepping out into a towel, feeling much more human. Next I needed clothes, so I went into my bedroom to grab a fresh t-shirt and underwear from my cupboard, and was shocked by the sight that greeted me: Jonny was in my bed, fully-clothed (thank God), snoring and drooling all over my pale blue sheets, a crushed beer can in his hand. [B]"Oi, dickhead,"[/B] I said, my voice coming out gravelly and hoarse as I kicked the bed, [B]"Get up. What are you doing in my bed? What are you doing in my flat, for that matter?"[/B] [B] "You lost your bed to me in a bet last night,"[/B] groaned Jonny, not moving an inch, [B]"I'm just claiming my winnings." "Well it's not last night any more. So get up and get out of my flat,"[/B] I said, pulling a pair of boxer shorts that Ellie had bought for me on under my towel. Wait, Ellie... [B]"Ohh shit,"[/B] I said, memories flooding back to me, [B]"Jonny, what happened last night?" "Ellie dumped you so we got drunk. Or at least, you and Dan got drunk. Bloody lightweights." "Wait, me and Ellie...she dumped me?"[/B] I asked, my voice trembling, [B]"I don't remember that..." "Well, you wouldn't, the amount of alcohol that's in your bloodstream. You've had enough to knock out a rhino, mate." "But...she dumped me?" "Jesus, if you don't shut up, I'm gonna dump you,"[/B] Jonny said, rolling over and sitting up now, clearly thwarted in his plan of getting any more sleep, [B]"Listen, she dumped you - it's not the end of the fuckin' world." [/B] Somewhat ironically, that's when the whole block of flats shook with tremendous force, as though the building were at the epicentre of an earthquake... --- Here's part two - an introduction of a couple more characters. I'm not as happy with this chapter as I was with the first, but I hope it's alright. The real action will begin in the next chapter. [/SIZE][/CENTER]

[SIZE=1]I punch a stray cat in the face. No, seriously, I usually either go to the gym, play my bass as aggressively as I possibly can, and as loud as polite society will allow, or sit down and watch something funny on DVD. I find a good laugh is a brilliant way to relieve stress - there's always something new to watch, whether it's a new DVD, something on YouTube, or a comedy podcast, so it's easy to do. I also sometimes write new comedy material when I'm stressed - stress and anger are good motivators to write funny material. I used to eat when I was stressed, and then I ballooned up to fairly huge size, so I replaced comfort food with going to the gym - much healthier! [/SIZE]

[center][U][B]Another Doomsday... [/B][/U][B][SIZE=1]...Another Devastation [/SIZE][/B][SIZE=1] Life isn't like it is in the movies. We've been brainwashed by Hollywood to believe that all of human existence is entirely dependent on finding your soulmate. That when you find him or her, everything that is wrong in your life will magically become better - your crappy job becomes your dream career, your money worries are suddenly gone, your overbearing bitch of a mother takes the rod out of her arse and relaxes, and suddenly everything is cherry blossoms and fluffy bunnies. In reality, finding your "soulmate," the person you're destined to end up with, is next to impossible, and even when you've found them, it opens up a whole new can of worms. I thought I'd found my soulmate three years ago, in a beautiful, intelligent girl named Ellie. She was everything I wanted and more - she could talk for hours about the most interesting things; we liked all the same movies, music and TV shows, and she had this adorable little thing where she twitched her nose when she was thinking. She was tall, but no taller than me, with short, light-brown hair and these amazing sparkling blue eyes, like tiny little sapphires, and slim but not too skinny, with just the right curves. Ellie was, without a doubt, the most perfect girl I had ever met, and I felt lucky every day I was with her. It was incredible even just lying on the sofa with her watching a terrible film on a Sunday afternoon. I thought she felt the same about me - she was the first one to say the L word, she was the one who suggested moving her stuff into my flat, she was even the one to ask me out, not the other way round. Which is why I was fairly surprised when she said this: [B] "Scott, I think we need to talk." [/B] Damn. [B] "About what?"[/B] I manage to ask through a mouthful of salted peanuts, and as I did it I regretted it. I realied how gormless I must have looked and sounded, my cheeks stuffed to an amount one would normally only see on a hamster, dressed in an old t-shirt and ripped jeans (and not ripped in the stylish way - simply because I wore them too much), a ragged old beanie hat forced awkwardly down over my muddy-brown locks, unshaven and with half a pint of lager in my hand. So I guess she beats me on physical attractiveness. [B] "About us."[/B] Shit. [B]"I don't think we're working any more, Scott,"[/B] she said, her voice soft and calm, never scathing or aggressive, [B]"I think we're stagnating." "Stagnating?"[/B] I managed to swallow most of the peanuts, but a few became lodged in my back teeth, and I tried to dislodge them with the tip of my tongue while I listened to Ellie, giving me the appearance of a mawkish, idiotic clot. [B]"We do the same things all the time, Scott,"[/B] she replied, the tiniest hint of anger rising in her voice now,[B] "TV, pub, curry, pub, TV, chinese. I'm young, and to be brutally honest, I'm getting a little bored."[/B] Bollocks. [B]"But Ellie,"[/B] I said pleadingly, grimacing from the feeling of peanut lumps stuck in my teeth, [B]"If you wanted to do something different, why didn't you just say?" "I did, Scott, repeatedly. But you were too busy jamming with your idiot friends to listen."[/B] [B] "My friends aren't idiots." "Oh really? What was the name of the guy who stuck his tongue in an active plug socket, and I quote "for shits and giggles"?" "Hans,"[/B] I replied after a brief hesistation, taking a swig of cheap, overly-fizzy lager. [B]"And what's he doing now?" "He's in a coma." "How long?" "Three months." "Since...?" "Since he stuck his tongue in the plug socket for shits and giggles,"[/B] I admitted, feeling beaten down by Ellie's superior mastery of the English language. Or rather, her vastly superior intellect. My friends are idiots. [B]"Exactly. There's too many problems right now, and I've got a busy time at work coming up. To be honest, it doesn't leave a lot of room for you." "Ellie, you're a primary school teacher. The busiest you get is when that "special" child sticks Lego up his nose and pushes it until he feels resistance." "Rudolph has very...unique problems,"[/B] she replied, deviating from the topic, then shaking her head and plunging straight back in, [B]"But I really can't be in such a stationary relationship right now. I'm sorry, Scott."[/B] Fuck. [B]"Do I get a say in this?" "No." "Fair enough,"[/B] I concede, draining what was left of the pint, shuddering as the bitter dregs at the bottom of the glass crossed my tongue. [B]"I'm going to move my stuff out of your flat as soon as possible." "Where are you going to stay?" "I'll sleep on Sarah's couch for a while. Then I might go visit my parents during the summer holidays. I haven't figured it all out yet, Scott."[/B] [B]"Do you have to go straight away? You could stay at ours...at mine for a while if you like." "I've done the hard part now, Scott. I might as well follow through and move my stuff out as soon as I can."[/B] I nodded. She'd clearly made up her mind, so there was no point trying to change it now. Might as well watch as the inevitable happened. [B]"I'm sorry, Scott,"[/B] she said sorrowfully, getting to her feet. She wasn't sorry. I nodded again, unable to say anything. This wasn't because I was too upset to think of anything. It was simply because I'm too thick to think of anything poignant and beautiful to say to her as our relationship ended. She left, no peck on the cheek, no hug, nothing. I'm a fucking idiot. --- The title of this story may not seem to make much sense right now, but it will in a couple of chapters' time. But for now, I hope I've been able to strike a chord with anyone who has had anything like this happen in a relationship. I hope you enjoy, I look forward to your feedback, and I will endeavour to get the next chapter out as soon as I can. [/SIZE][/center]

[B][SIZE=1]Here lies Phil: former male prostitute. [/SIZE][/B][SIZE=1]Or, alternatively... [B]He died a noble death: a drug-fuelled sex heart attack.[/B] [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]I'm a full-on meat eater (I often say I'll eat anything as long as it's had a face at some point), but bacon is one of the types of meat that I don't eat all that often, on it's own at least. I have it in omelettes and other foods, but not often on it's own. However, if I'm feeling a little worse for wear from the previous night's exertions, I will have a bacon sandwich to even myself out. I tried cooking it in the microwave recently on the advice of a cookery programme on TV, but I found that it wasn't as nice as grilled or fried. Possibly healthier than frying, but not as tasty. As a side note, this thread intrigued me mostly because of the incredibly ambiguous title. "Bacon...?" - random but funny. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]Jackson's been doing this for over 20 years, a lot longer than any of the other characters, so he's got strong instincts about this kind of stuff. As I said in my most recent post, he doesn't know for sure if the message is genuine, but he's not taking any chances. He also knows that if it is real, then it's probably a trap, but I just haven't mentioned it in my posts. But, as Darren says, he's been at it for so long that he doesn't really care if it's a trap or not. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]It was not until Jax was sure that Chase was in the safe hands of Manjusra, and he had seen the Chase's car drive off that the adrenaline rush wore off. He dropped to the floor, his knees collapsing uner him, and before he hit the ground he cursed himself for not having used his Edge to track the super-Ghast. His breathing sped up, coming fast and ragged as he struggled to open his eyes and get back to his feet. Looking down at his stomach, he saw that the flesh had been torn open in several places, probably when the thermal shockwave had thrown him back through a wall. Blood was dribbling down onto the waistband of his trousers, and he began feeling woozy. [I]Open space...need open...space... [/I]Staggering, the pain giving him the appearance of a drunkard, he tried desperately to get to the empty industrial park that he knew was nearby. His blood now began to soak into the fabric of his trousers, and droplets of it fell to the floor, mixing with the dust on the ground. His head began to spin, his vision becoming blurry, and he only just managed to stumble into the industrial park. Charging as fast as he could towards the centre of the six hundred square foot park, the largest open space he could think of in his pain-addled state, he collapsed onto the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust as he dropped. [I]Stomach...heal the stomach...concentrate, Jackson... [/I]A rush of warm energy swelled in his chest, and he forced it towards any part of his body which was currently feeling pain - his torn-up stomach, his pounding head, the shoulder that may or may not have been dislocated. [I]Christ...here it comes... [/I]Suddenly, the energy began to work it's magic. His wounds began to heal over, and his shoulder popped itself back into place. However, there was too much energy, and the rest of it had to go somewhere. Blinding golden light began to arc out of his body like lightning, the crackling sound of the energy cutting through the air drowning out the cries of discomfort that were pouring from the Hunter's mouth. The energy he had directed to his head shot out of his mouth and eyes, blasting into the sky as he cried out. The dust on the ground around him heated up, smouldering and smoking as it did, and the air got hotter and hotter. Then, as suddenly as it had started, the rejuvenation process was over. There were a few faint traces of scar tissue on his stomach, his head felt much better, and his shoulder no long cried out in agony. He gasped, and rolled onto his stomach, coughing and spluttering as foul black goo splattered onto the ground from his mouth. He recognised it as tar, a product of his nicotine addiction. That was one good thing about Rejuvenating - even if you didn't want it to, it got rid of all the crap that got into your lungs from smoking. Jax got to his feet and looked around. The ground all around him was burnt and scorched, smoke rising in tiny plumes. He hated this happening every time he healed himself, but until he could find a decent focus for the healing energy it was the risk he was going to have to run. He rolled his head around in a circle, hearing the tendons crack, then yanked his battered PDA from his pocket and dialled a number as he left the scene. [B]"Manjusra," [/B]he said, [B]"How's the kid?" "Kid? He's only five years younger than me," [/B]she replied, with mock indignation. [B]"You want me to start calling you kid too?" "He's fine, Jackson," [/B]she said, her tone serious again, [B]"But he took a fair beating from that thing. And if the two of you couldn't take it down, then I'm not sure what it's going to take." "I've got a few contacts that could get me some heavier artillery," [/B]Jax said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, [B]"But barring the use of an air strike, I think it's going to be tough." "So, did you get the email?" "Yeah." "Worried?" "I'm not sure. It could be fake, but I've been doing this a long time, and my gut tells me it's real. Someone who can make this kind of threat surely has some kind of clout behind him." "You think the message and the Ghast are connected?" "Could well be. Did you get the personal message?" "Yeah. New Orleans." "Mmhmm," [/B]mumbled Jax, [B]"Plane?" "Seems the most sensible way to do it." "You sure you'd be alright on the plane?" "I'm a big girl, Jax, I think I can take care of myself." "Course. Listen, I'm only a few blocks away - maybe you and me should travel together - could take some organising. Can I come visit?" [/B][/SIZE]

[SIZE=1]I've never particularly based my opinions of films on their genre, if I'm honest. I tend to like films if they speak to me on some personal level, if they affect me in some way. For example, one of my favourite films of all time is [B]High Fidelity[/B], because every single time I watch it, I end up wanting to own a record shop. Another favourite is [B]True Romance[/B], and another is [B]Wayne's World. [/B]As you can see, none of these three really share a genre, apart from all being funny in one way or another. I tend to like films if they're quirky in some way - High Fidelity is a romantic comedy of sorts where the protagonist is totally hopeless in love, True Romance is a love story with violence, drugs and the Mob, and Wayne's World, I have to say, is Mike Myers and his particular brand of comedy at it's best. I also loved [B]Stardust[/B], because it's so funny in an incredibly British sort of way. The same goes for [B]Hot Fuzz[/B], another of my favourites. So I don't really prefer any genre over all the others, I tend to pick and choose the best parts of different genres. Although I suppose that you could argue that all the films I've mentioned here are comedies in some shape. [/SIZE]