(( Hi all. My name is Mike, and I was glad to see that there are those in game that enjoy RP and creating stories. I myself enjoy trying to create stories, whether they be accounts of events, diary entries, or any other type of writing I could think of that would fit. Below is sort of a Diary Entry that I just thought up of on a whim for my character 'Seraphis'. I tend to let in-game events mold my character over time so it adds new things for me to write about. ))
My life is just a cliché. I started off troubled, and found myself confined to a six by eight cell. Spending the majority of my time staring through bars at the sky, wondering at what exact point in my life, did I decide to take the path that had led me here. Despite asking myself all the questions, it couldn't change that very one fact, I am now branded a criminal, and there is no way to erase that.
When your freedom is lost, you begin to rethink what it is you want when you finally get back what you had gambled with. Like most, I decided on a change. My talks of change, and a 'new' life brought quite the laughter out of most of the inmates that I had been conversing with. One even tried to help me with a fresh start, or at that time I assumed he did. He managed to look towards me and tell me, "If ya want yaself a new start, why not head tuh San Paro." Being young and naive, I thought he meant best, but the laughter afterward should had told me, he didn't.
My time went, freedom was mine again. The place that will be my new start, my new path to a different life, San Paro. I used what meager money a ex-con like me would get to purchase a one way ticked, and take my ass there. Upon arrival it looked like it had potential, like I finally found my home. As I got myself a cab and took a ride to the cheapest motel I could find, I realized something. This place has to be Hell.
Laying in my piss poor motel room, the windows wide opened, I can hear the anarchy that takes place outside. From Day into Night, and Night back into Day, I can hear the screams of people being mugged and robbed, or even worse. I hear the constant firing of guns, the sound of sirens, the smell of burning rubber being blown into my room. The first few months were sickening, now, it doesn't even phase me.
With all this crime going around, and all this money being made, it was like dangling cocaine in front of a recovering addict. The people I had met were pure enablers. I wanted that path where I can just do a normal job, come home to my fuckin' hovel, and rinse and repeat until I die. That wasn't an option, not anymore. Soon, I found myself befriending people that paid handsomely for certain tasks. I can remember it like it was yesterday. My first task was a shake-down, a test to see my mettle. After that, I was hooked again.
I came to this city to escape the past I had. What a bunch of bullshit...
My life is just a cliché. I started off troubled, and found myself confined to a six by eight cell. Spending the majority of my time staring through bars at the sky, wondering at what exact point in my life, did I decide to take the path that had led me here. Despite asking myself all the questions, it couldn't change that very one fact, I am now branded a criminal, and there is no way to erase that.
When your freedom is lost, you begin to rethink what it is you want when you finally get back what you had gambled with. Like most, I decided on a change. My talks of change, and a 'new' life brought quite the laughter out of most of the inmates that I had been conversing with. One even tried to help me with a fresh start, or at that time I assumed he did. He managed to look towards me and tell me, "If ya want yaself a new start, why not head tuh San Paro." Being young and naive, I thought he meant best, but the laughter afterward should had told me, he didn't.
My time went, freedom was mine again. The place that will be my new start, my new path to a different life, San Paro. I used what meager money a ex-con like me would get to purchase a one way ticked, and take my ass there. Upon arrival it looked like it had potential, like I finally found my home. As I got myself a cab and took a ride to the cheapest motel I could find, I realized something. This place has to be Hell.
Laying in my piss poor motel room, the windows wide opened, I can hear the anarchy that takes place outside. From Day into Night, and Night back into Day, I can hear the screams of people being mugged and robbed, or even worse. I hear the constant firing of guns, the sound of sirens, the smell of burning rubber being blown into my room. The first few months were sickening, now, it doesn't even phase me.
With all this crime going around, and all this money being made, it was like dangling cocaine in front of a recovering addict. The people I had met were pure enablers. I wanted that path where I can just do a normal job, come home to my fuckin' hovel, and rinse and repeat until I die. That wasn't an option, not anymore. Soon, I found myself befriending people that paid handsomely for certain tasks. I can remember it like it was yesterday. My first task was a shake-down, a test to see my mettle. After that, I was hooked again.
I came to this city to escape the past I had. What a bunch of bullshit...
Last edited by Seraphis on Sat Jun 26, 2010 1:19 am; edited 1 time in total
