The borderline that separated you from me
Dear Raki,
You weren't even supposed to be a bloody player character. You were going to be a single-appearance NPC barmaid whose only purpose for existence was to serve beer, make some bigoted remarks and have a one-off sexual encounter with one of my other characters. You were scenery, damn it. Local colour. You didn't even need your own name.
Then you elbowed me aside mid-story, blew the bar wench persona out of existence and took centre stage as a confident, hard-as-nails retired pirate who turned out to own the damn bar. By the end of that story you'd assigned the bigoted remarks to another recurring NPC without so much as blinking and retconned the relationship with my other character from a one-off to a friendship-with-benefits with an eight-year history. That was just the start.
Within a week of my posting that story you'd told me your complete backstory, got two other characters adopting you as family and falling in love with you, and you had me obediently RPing you live on AIM. You've become so central to our whole RP that even though you rarely take an active part in the plot, the characters who do have taken to asking themselves what you would do or think before they commit themselves to anything. I would be proud, but I've never felt I had much to do with it. I'm just your bloody secretary.
And now this latest bombshell. Raki, love, in twenty-odd years of varied roleplaying, I've only ever had one character who had a kid; and that was an accidental pregnancy inflicted on her by dice-roll and she dumped it on its grandparents as soon as she could and never saw it again. I don't do maternal; I don't want to do maternal, and if it were any character but you I would have extreme doubts about my ability to roleplay it. But since it is you, I know I've got no choice. You're even making me sort of perversely look forward to it; and I almost hate you for that. At least you're being sensible and waiting till you're done with the small war you just unilaterally declared on the mafioso who runs the neighbouring island. And when I say "unilaterally", I mean I didn't get a say in that decision either. I love you, Raki, but you scare the crap out of me sometimes.
Love,
Your obedient servant, Liz
P.S. You do realise you'll have to give up smoking and put all the sharp pointy objects out of reach, don't you?
P.P.S. Really. All the sharp pointy objects. I'd start now if I was you.
P.P.P.S. If the father's who I think it might be going to be, remember "out of reach" is probably not as out of reach as you think.
You weren't even supposed to be a bloody player character. You were going to be a single-appearance NPC barmaid whose only purpose for existence was to serve beer, make some bigoted remarks and have a one-off sexual encounter with one of my other characters. You were scenery, damn it. Local colour. You didn't even need your own name.
Then you elbowed me aside mid-story, blew the bar wench persona out of existence and took centre stage as a confident, hard-as-nails retired pirate who turned out to own the damn bar. By the end of that story you'd assigned the bigoted remarks to another recurring NPC without so much as blinking and retconned the relationship with my other character from a one-off to a friendship-with-benefits with an eight-year history. That was just the start.
Within a week of my posting that story you'd told me your complete backstory, got two other characters adopting you as family and falling in love with you, and you had me obediently RPing you live on AIM. You've become so central to our whole RP that even though you rarely take an active part in the plot, the characters who do have taken to asking themselves what you would do or think before they commit themselves to anything. I would be proud, but I've never felt I had much to do with it. I'm just your bloody secretary.
And now this latest bombshell. Raki, love, in twenty-odd years of varied roleplaying, I've only ever had one character who had a kid; and that was an accidental pregnancy inflicted on her by dice-roll and she dumped it on its grandparents as soon as she could and never saw it again. I don't do maternal; I don't want to do maternal, and if it were any character but you I would have extreme doubts about my ability to roleplay it. But since it is you, I know I've got no choice. You're even making me sort of perversely look forward to it; and I almost hate you for that. At least you're being sensible and waiting till you're done with the small war you just unilaterally declared on the mafioso who runs the neighbouring island. And when I say "unilaterally", I mean I didn't get a say in that decision either. I love you, Raki, but you scare the crap out of me sometimes.
Love,
Your obedient servant, Liz
P.S. You do realise you'll have to give up smoking and put all the sharp pointy objects out of reach, don't you?
P.P.S. Really. All the sharp pointy objects. I'd start now if I was you.
P.P.P.S. If the father's who I think it might be going to be, remember "out of reach" is probably not as out of reach as you think.