(no subject)
AHHHHH WHAT'S THIS, I'M ACTUALLY AROUND TO POST A BATCH!! Sup dudes.
PS there is an amazing surprise at the end of this batch.
Remember!
- Applicants, respond anonymously.
- If you're going to do the whole "ask me why I voted you out!" thing, please state who you voted out.
- No speculating about the identity of the applicants!
Now VOTE. CLOSED! that was like less than half an hour guys, wao.
Character: Professor Samuel Oak
Series: Pokemon Special
Character Age: 50's
Job: Pokemon Professor
Canon: The creator of the original Pokedex and a talented trainer in his own right, Professor Oak is the leading authority on pokemon, or Pocket Monsters if you prefer. What are pokemon? They're the creatures that inhabit his world that have unfathomable powers and mysteries within, each having their own personality and traits, willing to live alongside humans as long as we love and trust one another.
Known in his hometown of Pallet Town as an old grumpy man, Professor Oak quickly proves himself to be a fine judge of character and pretty nice otherwise after meeting a young man named Red, who has his own series of adventures which aren't of focus here. Oak's dream is to create an encyclopedia of every existing pokemon, a dream which his old rivals tend to look down upon - they see him as a shadow of his old self. You see, Oak is a very accomplished pokemon trainer himself, having won many a tournament himself and even old age hasn't made him lose his touch... for the most part at least. He may be old but he can still fight! This means, however, that he's still fairly quick witted and can think on his feet, able to make important judgments quickly even if he's not up to the physical exertion of training pokemon. He doesn't trust easily but he isn't against sending someone he just met out on a quest with huge goals on the belief that they might be a good person. Combine these traits and you get a man who tends to trust his instincts and respect those who see pokemon as equals.
Note: Rapidash is a unicorn pokemon with a flaming mane and tail. Pokemon also have 'types' which categorize their strengths and properties. A 'steel' type is typically a pokemon made of metal.
Sample Entry:
Ah, hello there! Are you a boy or a girl?
Ow! Okay, maybe that was a little insensitive, but I can't see you so well in the dark, you know. It doesn't really matter, it would just prevent a surprise later... what did you say your name was again? Ah yes, AAAAAA. Perhaps you could help me. You see, I was on my way to a swamp but suddenly I found myself in this farmland! I do hope I'm not trespassing but it is entirely fascinating, I haven't seen any of these pokemon species before... I digress. Could you direct me towards the organization known as C.F.U.D? They invited me to research a new set of pokemon they said were not recorded in any encyclopedia, and they wanted my personal opinion on the matter as they were giving them a bit of trouble, you see.
Oh? I'm already there? I remember being specifically told it was a marsh of some sort, this is a strange oversight! It is convenient for all of us, so I won't complain. Perhaps the species I've been seeing in these parts are the ones they had alerted me about in the first place! In that case, perhaps you could help me, AAAAAA. On my way here I had caught a wild Rapidash that caught my eye. Why? Well, here, you can see for yourself.
You can open your eyes! The fire isn't the intriguing part, it's the fact that the Rapidash's flames seem to emit the entire color spectrum, like a rainbow. In fact, if I didn't know better I'd say this one was a steel-type or it was wearing some sort of armor... It's quite the horse of a different color if I say so myself! To make matters worse, the poor girl seems to be injured in some manner, and simply won't have anything to do with me. Anyhow, it seems she's taken a liking to you, would you like to raise her for the time being? You will? Great! She wants to be with you, and make believe with you, and live in harmony, so it is your responsibility to take care of her for now, AAAAAA. There's no shame in asking if you need advice, as I'm going to be here a while, I think.
Oh, I haven't introduced myself, have I? My name is Oak, some call me the Pokemon Professor, and I'm one of the leading authorities on the subject of differential pokemon species. For the time being, I'll be a resident researcher and will appreciate any sorts of insights you could provide as a set of fresh eyes.
Your eyes aren't fresh? What nonsense.
Poll Vote!
Character: Wallace Wells
Series: Scott Pilgrim
Age: 25
Job: Professor of Bedninja Studies
Rating: Pretty Darn Gay
Canon: Long ago (like, probably last month or something), in the fabled realm of Toronto, Canada, where people explode into coins when they die and Pepsi Lime gives you +3 Will, there lived a young man named Scott Pilgrim. This young man, who was in the L word (love, not lesbians) with a girl, braved many trials to win her heart: battling psychic vegans, punching the heck out of robots, and even getting a job. Truly, he was the greatest of Canadian heroes. And as everyone knows, every true hero needs a cool gay roommate. Enter Wallace Wells, purveyor of advice, moral support (but low moral fibre), and pretty much everything in their shared apartment. Including the bed. Yes, singular. They share it. Platonically.
No matter how bizarre the situation, Wallace is always there to provide a patient ear and a snappy remark. Or bus fare. Or bacon. Or a margarita. Or steal your boyfriend. Or yell insults at the guy you're fighting. Or maybe just mock your pain. He can go from dry and sarcastic to chatty and charming at a moment’s notice, and generally doesn't hesitate to point out exactly how charming he is. In case, you know, you missed it. When he isn't busy earning a living for himself and his freeloading roommate, Wallace enjoys drinking, clubbing (and drinking), and bringing home boys with glasses (often after a night of enthusiastic drinking). Somehow, he's still the responsible one.
Sample Entry:
Helloooo, Americans! I'm Wallace Wells, cute foreign guy and your new Professor of Bedninja Studies. As the owner of two perfectly functional Queer Eyes, as well as unparalleled experience in the field of guy-on-guy bed-sharing, I am uniquely qualified to instruct you in this highly prestigious art. That's right, you are currently in the presence of a virtuoso. I hope you're as unbelievably impressed as I am. Now, I'd like all of you to sit back, get comfortable, and allow me to blow your mind.
The first thing you're going to want to do in the event of a bedninjaing is assess the scenario. Examine the terrain! Single? Twin? Queen? Couch? Floor? Creepy haunted Scooby Doo shack? Your surroundings have a pretty big effect on how the rest of the evening's gonna go. You get a nice big bed, and you're pretty much set. Buuut it doesn't look like there's a lot of those around here, so you're gonna have to get creative, necessity being the mother of invention and all. Small beds, for example, require a little more planning and a lot more cuddling. Which sounds pretty great until one of you gets elbowed and falls off the bed. Then no one's having any fun. Pro tip: when dealing with a kicker, wedge yourself between them and the wall. Worst case scenario, they're the one who takes the fall. It's not very sportsmanlike, but love is a battlefield. Now, in the event that you do end up on the floor -- and believe me, it's more likely than you think -- you've gotta be prepared. Floors are cold and hard, and you've gotta watch out for splinters. That's a job for a little thing I like to call the two-man blanket burrito. It's totally sexy, I know.
Moving right along: spooning! Not many people know about the top-secret silverware hierarchy, but fortunately, I am what we in the business refer to as a guru. A connoisseur, if you will. Allow me to enlighten you. See, the great thing about being the ninja, rather than the ninjee, is that you get to be the big spoon. Of course, being the little spoon has its advantages too. In this case, home-field advantage, which, as I touched upon above, is so very important. And I urge you to remember, as the ancient proverb says: spooning leads to forking.
Thus concludes your first lesson. Now, for the extra credit assignment, I'd like one very special volunteer from the audience...
Poll Vote!
Character: Remus J. Lupin
Series: Harry Potter
Age: 38
Job: Defence Against the Dark Creatures of Camp Teacher
Canon: Harry Potter didn’t have the greatest childhood. Between living beneath a cupboard under a staircase, being bullied by his cousin Dudley and mistreated by his Aunt and Uncle, he never thought that he’d turn out to be anyone special. This all changed on his eleventh birthday when he discovered that he was actually a wizard and had been accepted to Hogwarts, a school for the magically gifted. This opened up Harry’s life to not only new adventures and friends -something he had never had before, but mysteries and dangers as well. As it turns out, Harry has been destined since before his birth to be the greatest threat to the most powerful dark wizard in history, making him part of an awesome struggle between what is good, and what is evil.
Remus is introduced as one of the many Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers that Harry encounters throughout the series. Understanding, patient, and encouraging, Remus at first appears to be almost the ideal teacher. But don’t let his calm demeanour fool you. Behind his controlled, sensible appearance, Remus holds a dark secret. He’s a werewolf, a condition that has resulted in him being completely rejected by wizarding society and forcing him to live a life of near exile and poverty. Although this has given Remus something of a world weary demeanour, and the occasional, petty twist in his attitude, he still manages to maintain a decent sense of humour (he was, after all, something of a troublemaker in his youth), and often stands as the voice of reason within the middle of a disagreement.
Sample Post:
Good morning, everyone. I apologize for being so late to our first lesson together. The directions I received recommended to follow, follow, follow the yellow brick road until I arrived here, and well, let’s just say I’ve come away from that little detour having seen enough lions, tigers, and bears to last me a life time. It’s fortunate that Marcy, as I believe you call her, was helpful enough to point me in the right direction, even if she was a little, er, enthusiastic about it, shall we say. But so long as her boundaries were respected she was actually rather helpful. As I understand it she tend to be considered a bit of a nuisance here, so this may be useful for all of you to keep in mind, especially since I’ve noticed that a few of you are not finding your way to the Mess Hall easily enough. I can see how it would be confusing, what with the signs pointing towards what appears to be cake and death and even someone’s Mother.
But enough about my own directionally impaired journeys, let’s jump right into things, shall we? I’d like to begin with a practical lesson today, but I think since I’m nearly as new at dealing with these creatures as you are, we should go over some background first before continuing on with our wands-. Er, and no, Mr. Gaauuuugh, that section of the lesson won’t involve the removal of your pants, so if you would please keep your belt in place -yes, thank you. Now, your Director has been kind enough to provide me with information on these particularly unique specimens, however, as most of her notes seem to consist of “just bend over and take it” and other similar variations, I may need to disregard most of her advice. Fortunately, I daresay I’ve devised of other, more effective, ways of dealing with them. I would like to say that I’m sure she was only too overworked to provide a more detailed list, but I take it the eye-rolling wouldn’t be a positive reinforcement of that statement, would it? Well, no matter.
Today’s lesson will be focusing on the gorillas. I know their size can be intimidating and that their odd colouring can be startling at first glance, but really, so long as they’re not disturbed there’s no reason that they should be of any threat to you. I have however noticed that when they’re in danger of becoming aggressive they begin to perform a very specific series of movements, almost like a dance. I’ve been informed that this is best recognized by the word “caramelldansen”, and I would advise you to slowly back away should you see the gorillas take on this behaviour. I know some of you have also made a habit of offering them bananas in an attempt to keep them calm, and I would have to urge you to not continue on with this kind of behaviour. The gorillas only seem to find it patronizing, and after observing them, they seem to prefer by far long walks along the beach and romantic era artists. Really, it surprised me too.
Oh dear, it seems we’ve run out of time for today. For your homework please write up any experiences you’ve had with the gorilla’s here, and if there are any questions I hope you’ll be willing enough to approach me after class with them. I assure you, I don’t bite.
Poll Vote!
Character: John Constantine
Series: Hellblazer (comicverse)
Age: 56 - but looks about thirty.
Job: Camp Misanthrope
Canon: John Constantine, the Laughing Magician - a name known in magical circles from America to Zimbabwe. The chain-smoking, foulmouthed English magus has made a bit of a name for himself, between tricking the Devil (three times - not exactly an unimpressive feat), curing cancer, and saving the world innumerable times. He's a master of ritual magic - although he tends not to rely on it, and he's more what you might call a psychic conman. And it's not without its price - his escapades tend to gain him more enemies than friends, and the friends he has have a tendency of ending up dead. Especially since he began owing the Devil his soul in 1991, his main aim has been to stay alive as long as possible. Mind, you wouldn't necessarily think so, to look at him - he's too addicted to the occult to stop using magic, too much of a humanist to stop stepping in and saving people, and he still drinks like a fish, smokes like a factory chimney, and gets in fights with the wrong sorts of people.
John seems, at first glance, like your classic cynical bastard. And at second glance. And-- okay, he's your classic cynical bastard. And fucking impolite with it. He hates elitists, he hates rich people, he hates people who don't help other people... he probably hates you, unless you just bought him a drink. Despite all this, he can be charming when he wants to be, and he wisecracks more or less constantly. He doesn't have many friends, but he cares deeply about those he does, and, despite appearances, he cares a good deal about humanity as a whole. He's not against a bit of crime where necessary, and he regularly walks over people to be where he needs to be, but whoever said being a good guy meant you had to be nice
Sample Entry:
Ha fucking ha.
Only bloody job offer I've had in years, and I'd still turn it down if I hadn't... somehow got here anyway. And speaking of, how the hell did I get here? And where is here? Camp Fuck You Die, I suppose - and congratulations on the cheery, welcoming name, by the way, Elizabeth - but that's not exactly specific.
Oh, sod it. I'm still hoping this is a bad trip off something, and they're busy shitting their pants over my comatose body. Jesus, I wish I could believe that...
But even if this is real, and you're up there thinking this is funny, I'm telling you-- Shit! There's a fucking duck eating my shoe. Get the fuck out of it, you feathery little bugger! Go on, piss off, before I-- ow! Oh, you son of a bitch, you were aiming for the balls, weren't you? Give me a cleaver and a place to stand and I might not move the earth, but I'll have duc a l'orange tonight...
...Yeah, you fucking better run. Flap. Swim. Whatever. I'm going to beat a very brave retreat before you call over the whole nest. Oh, yes, I see that look in your beady little eye, you bastard. Fuck you, and fuck the countryside. Hell, Hyde Park's too big a field for me. I'm a city boy, always have been. And what now? Now I'm stuck in a damn summer camp looking after a load of kids. And, I mean, seriously, they couldn't call in anyone who lives in the same country? Or who can look a scarecrow in the eye without trauma flashbacks? I'm telling you, all the worst shit happens in the country. Just look at the news. The country drives people nuts.
Apparently me quicker than others, since I'm seeing robot cows and tentacle monsters. This is not bloody okay. There's a psychedelic pigeon talking in my head, I'm soaking wet 'cos I just fell into a pond full of killer ducks, and you know what's worst? What's unforgivably worse? My fucking fags are wet.
Is this some sort of misanthropy test? Because if so, I think I pass. I hate the world. I hate the camp. I sure as fuck hate you right now.
Poll Vote!
Character: Yukimi Kazuhiko
Series: Nabari no Ou
Character Age:27
Job: Camp Journinalist
Canon: Ninjas still exist today. They pass as regular people of the "surface world" with normal jobs, holding their covert meetings in mountain retreats (for the more traditional clans) and on the Internet (for those who’ve moved with the times.) And this secret ninja world - the world of Nabari - is abuzz with rumors that the greatest technique, the reality-altering Shinrabanshou, has returned in the body of an indifferent boy named Miharu. Everyone wants it - and the bigger clans, like Iga’s Grey Wolves, may be strong enough to take it.
One of the Grey Wolves is a man named Yukimi Kazuhiko. Although he’s gainfully employed in the surface world as a journalist, writing mundane articles about restaurants and local events, in the world of Nabari he’s a squad-leader and master of hidden weaponry. But although these are traditional roles, he’s one of the ones who HAS moved with the times. His weapon of choice is a gun, his hair is dyed blond, he’s got multiple piercings in his ears, and he wears truly eye-searing shirts - all in all, people might believe this punk is more like a yakuza than a ninja. A loudmouth with a devil-may-care attitude, he shouts comically over every little mishap and might seem a little high-strung when on assignment, but it doesn’t actually get to him. Outside of missions, he’s every inch the casual tough guy. His loud looks and personality cover a softer core, though: although he’ll protest that he hates kids and doesn’t want to put any effort into things outside of work, he loves his family deeply, has a deep-seated need to take care of the helpless, and adopts stray kittens. Basically, he’s a hitman with a heart of gold.
Sample Entry:
Yo~! The name’s Yukimi Kazuhiko, and I’m here to research an article for Restaurants Weekly - I’ve heard you’ve got one hell of a house speciality around here, the "Tuesday Mystery Soup". If it’s a mystery, I guess you’re not willing to part with the recipe, huh? But I hope you won’t mind if I snap a couple of photos, maybe get a few people’s reactions? And hell, if you don’t mind sharing, maybe you’ll give me a taste? For free, of course. I’ll give ya a good honest review and make sure to mention your friendly, cheerful service...
...or that was the introduction I had planned to give, anyway. What the hell? I was going to integrate myself in here properly as a surface-worlder, you know! I wasn’t expecting to be met by the goddamn leper ninja doom squad, walking around like they don’t give a damn who sees them. No point keeping my ties to the world of Nabari hidden if they’re nin-nining it up all over the place. Haven’t these guys heard of the code of secrecy? I mean, who the hell dresses like some kind of TV drama ninja these days? And if they are gonna geek it up like they’re on TV, they should at least pick a goddamn genre and stick to it! ‘Historical drama’ and ‘zombie horror flick’ just don’t mix. And don’t let me get started on that clan name. "The Unindead"? Walking around, moaning "Braiiiiniiiiins?" Yeah, I don’t know, maybe that’d work if they conduct their assassinations through laughter.
That all said, don’t get me wrong - it’s kind of impossible to be intimidated by these guys - but isn’t there something pretty fucked up having a bunch of zombie freaks be around kids all the time? I’ve downloaded a few horror movies in my time, you know, I know how these things work. Take a look at this place! Hoards of cute little angels, teenagers with unresolved sexual tension, girls with big tits, and on top of that it’s all set in some weird hick-hell farmland? I’m surprised they haven’t got killed yet, it’s like a freaking checklist! And, sure, I’ve seen the kids raised in the World of Nabari and the things they can do - but still, come on. Raising children to be murderers of normal humans is one thing, but taking on horror flick monsters? That’s a whole different ball game!
Or I wish it was a different ball game, but that over there is a bunch of kids taking bats to some of the zombies and, yeah, what the hell, I’m pretty sure they’re playing baseball with their heads. What the hell, it really is just a game to them?! Fine, I take it back, whatever! The kids are all right, nothing to see here, move it along, get over it! Arrgh, I can’t believe I got all worried and everything. This is why I hate brats!
Poll Vote!
Character: Old Spice Man
Series: Old Spice Commercials
Character Age: Eternally nubile and handsome
Job: Freshly Scented Example of Manliness
Canon: Look at your television. Is it on? If it is, you might see an advertisement for Old Spice bodywash. Look back at your computer. By now you must realize that the Old Spice Man is a glory example of Gary Stu sexy godliness. With witty commentary, a dedication to his product, and manliness to spare he is the man you wish the men you knew could be like.
Sample Post:
Hello, campers. Do you know what you're lacking? I do. And the thing which you lack is a manly odor. There are many odors wafting here. Most of them are disgusting. If you do not want to smell disgusting, use Old Spice bodywash. Your manliness will become enhanced to a state where stating over 9000 is still an understated understatement.
Are you following? Good. One-handed cow tipping!
You may think, this is all he has to offer. Wrong. While the varied delicious and enticing odors of Old Spice bodywash are my main selling point, I have other skills. So many skills. Why, the number of skills I contain could only be counted using the phrase "infinity plus one."
That's how skilled I am.
I have personally met every shark featured on Shark Week. A charming lot. It is not necessary to punch every shark in the face. This information could prove vital if a force of monocled sharks were to appear within your camp. You have ninjas for those sharks, you say? While I have not trained under a waterfall, it was only because I stood at the top and the water shot up, coming to me. Diverging free flowing water is never a problem if you use Old Spice bodywash and not lady-scented shampoos.
Xenomorph face punch! I do punch every xenomorph in the face.
My greatest asset as your newest counselor is Old Spice bodywash. If you were to turn into the fairer sex due to shenanigans of a most jovial kind, only a drop of Old Spice is needed to bring you back to your manly self. So, what will it be? Will I astoundingly astound you all by entering your astounding camp with my manly bodywash? Or will I ride off into the sunset, none the worst for wear, to other pastures to spread the word and tangible smell of my product?
You decide.
Assisted livestock birth! I have a newborn lamb. And I will nuture it to adulthood.
Poll Vote!
PS there is an amazing surprise at the end of this batch.
Remember!
- Applicants, respond anonymously.
- If you're going to do the whole "ask me why I voted you out!" thing, please state who you voted out.
- No speculating about the identity of the applicants!
Now VOTE. CLOSED! that was like less than half an hour guys, wao.
Character: Professor Samuel Oak
Series: Pokemon Special
Character Age: 50's
Job: Pokemon Professor
Canon: The creator of the original Pokedex and a talented trainer in his own right, Professor Oak is the leading authority on pokemon, or Pocket Monsters if you prefer. What are pokemon? They're the creatures that inhabit his world that have unfathomable powers and mysteries within, each having their own personality and traits, willing to live alongside humans as long as we love and trust one another.
Known in his hometown of Pallet Town as an old grumpy man, Professor Oak quickly proves himself to be a fine judge of character and pretty nice otherwise after meeting a young man named Red, who has his own series of adventures which aren't of focus here. Oak's dream is to create an encyclopedia of every existing pokemon, a dream which his old rivals tend to look down upon - they see him as a shadow of his old self. You see, Oak is a very accomplished pokemon trainer himself, having won many a tournament himself and even old age hasn't made him lose his touch... for the most part at least. He may be old but he can still fight! This means, however, that he's still fairly quick witted and can think on his feet, able to make important judgments quickly even if he's not up to the physical exertion of training pokemon. He doesn't trust easily but he isn't against sending someone he just met out on a quest with huge goals on the belief that they might be a good person. Combine these traits and you get a man who tends to trust his instincts and respect those who see pokemon as equals.
Note: Rapidash is a unicorn pokemon with a flaming mane and tail. Pokemon also have 'types' which categorize their strengths and properties. A 'steel' type is typically a pokemon made of metal.
Sample Entry:
Ah, hello there! Are you a boy or a girl?
Ow! Okay, maybe that was a little insensitive, but I can't see you so well in the dark, you know. It doesn't really matter, it would just prevent a surprise later... what did you say your name was again? Ah yes, AAAAAA. Perhaps you could help me. You see, I was on my way to a swamp but suddenly I found myself in this farmland! I do hope I'm not trespassing but it is entirely fascinating, I haven't seen any of these pokemon species before... I digress. Could you direct me towards the organization known as C.F.U.D? They invited me to research a new set of pokemon they said were not recorded in any encyclopedia, and they wanted my personal opinion on the matter as they were giving them a bit of trouble, you see.
Oh? I'm already there? I remember being specifically told it was a marsh of some sort, this is a strange oversight! It is convenient for all of us, so I won't complain. Perhaps the species I've been seeing in these parts are the ones they had alerted me about in the first place! In that case, perhaps you could help me, AAAAAA. On my way here I had caught a wild Rapidash that caught my eye. Why? Well, here, you can see for yourself.
You can open your eyes! The fire isn't the intriguing part, it's the fact that the Rapidash's flames seem to emit the entire color spectrum, like a rainbow. In fact, if I didn't know better I'd say this one was a steel-type or it was wearing some sort of armor... It's quite the horse of a different color if I say so myself! To make matters worse, the poor girl seems to be injured in some manner, and simply won't have anything to do with me. Anyhow, it seems she's taken a liking to you, would you like to raise her for the time being? You will? Great! She wants to be with you, and make believe with you, and live in harmony, so it is your responsibility to take care of her for now, AAAAAA. There's no shame in asking if you need advice, as I'm going to be here a while, I think.
Oh, I haven't introduced myself, have I? My name is Oak, some call me the Pokemon Professor, and I'm one of the leading authorities on the subject of differential pokemon species. For the time being, I'll be a resident researcher and will appreciate any sorts of insights you could provide as a set of fresh eyes.
Your eyes aren't fresh? What nonsense.
Poll Vote!
Character: Wallace Wells
Series: Scott Pilgrim
Age: 25
Job: Professor of Bedninja Studies
Rating: Pretty Darn Gay
Canon: Long ago (like, probably last month or something), in the fabled realm of Toronto, Canada, where people explode into coins when they die and Pepsi Lime gives you +3 Will, there lived a young man named Scott Pilgrim. This young man, who was in the L word (love, not lesbians) with a girl, braved many trials to win her heart: battling psychic vegans, punching the heck out of robots, and even getting a job. Truly, he was the greatest of Canadian heroes. And as everyone knows, every true hero needs a cool gay roommate. Enter Wallace Wells, purveyor of advice, moral support (but low moral fibre), and pretty much everything in their shared apartment. Including the bed. Yes, singular. They share it. Platonically.
No matter how bizarre the situation, Wallace is always there to provide a patient ear and a snappy remark. Or bus fare. Or bacon. Or a margarita. Or steal your boyfriend. Or yell insults at the guy you're fighting. Or maybe just mock your pain. He can go from dry and sarcastic to chatty and charming at a moment’s notice, and generally doesn't hesitate to point out exactly how charming he is. In case, you know, you missed it. When he isn't busy earning a living for himself and his freeloading roommate, Wallace enjoys drinking, clubbing (and drinking), and bringing home boys with glasses (often after a night of enthusiastic drinking). Somehow, he's still the responsible one.
Sample Entry:
Helloooo, Americans! I'm Wallace Wells, cute foreign guy and your new Professor of Bedninja Studies. As the owner of two perfectly functional Queer Eyes, as well as unparalleled experience in the field of guy-on-guy bed-sharing, I am uniquely qualified to instruct you in this highly prestigious art. That's right, you are currently in the presence of a virtuoso. I hope you're as unbelievably impressed as I am. Now, I'd like all of you to sit back, get comfortable, and allow me to blow your mind.
The first thing you're going to want to do in the event of a bedninjaing is assess the scenario. Examine the terrain! Single? Twin? Queen? Couch? Floor? Creepy haunted Scooby Doo shack? Your surroundings have a pretty big effect on how the rest of the evening's gonna go. You get a nice big bed, and you're pretty much set. Buuut it doesn't look like there's a lot of those around here, so you're gonna have to get creative, necessity being the mother of invention and all. Small beds, for example, require a little more planning and a lot more cuddling. Which sounds pretty great until one of you gets elbowed and falls off the bed. Then no one's having any fun. Pro tip: when dealing with a kicker, wedge yourself between them and the wall. Worst case scenario, they're the one who takes the fall. It's not very sportsmanlike, but love is a battlefield. Now, in the event that you do end up on the floor -- and believe me, it's more likely than you think -- you've gotta be prepared. Floors are cold and hard, and you've gotta watch out for splinters. That's a job for a little thing I like to call the two-man blanket burrito. It's totally sexy, I know.
Moving right along: spooning! Not many people know about the top-secret silverware hierarchy, but fortunately, I am what we in the business refer to as a guru. A connoisseur, if you will. Allow me to enlighten you. See, the great thing about being the ninja, rather than the ninjee, is that you get to be the big spoon. Of course, being the little spoon has its advantages too. In this case, home-field advantage, which, as I touched upon above, is so very important. And I urge you to remember, as the ancient proverb says: spooning leads to forking.
Thus concludes your first lesson. Now, for the extra credit assignment, I'd like one very special volunteer from the audience...
Poll Vote!
Character: Remus J. Lupin
Series: Harry Potter
Age: 38
Job: Defence Against the Dark Creatures of Camp Teacher
Canon: Harry Potter didn’t have the greatest childhood. Between living beneath a cupboard under a staircase, being bullied by his cousin Dudley and mistreated by his Aunt and Uncle, he never thought that he’d turn out to be anyone special. This all changed on his eleventh birthday when he discovered that he was actually a wizard and had been accepted to Hogwarts, a school for the magically gifted. This opened up Harry’s life to not only new adventures and friends -something he had never had before, but mysteries and dangers as well. As it turns out, Harry has been destined since before his birth to be the greatest threat to the most powerful dark wizard in history, making him part of an awesome struggle between what is good, and what is evil.
Remus is introduced as one of the many Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers that Harry encounters throughout the series. Understanding, patient, and encouraging, Remus at first appears to be almost the ideal teacher. But don’t let his calm demeanour fool you. Behind his controlled, sensible appearance, Remus holds a dark secret. He’s a werewolf, a condition that has resulted in him being completely rejected by wizarding society and forcing him to live a life of near exile and poverty. Although this has given Remus something of a world weary demeanour, and the occasional, petty twist in his attitude, he still manages to maintain a decent sense of humour (he was, after all, something of a troublemaker in his youth), and often stands as the voice of reason within the middle of a disagreement.
Sample Post:
Good morning, everyone. I apologize for being so late to our first lesson together. The directions I received recommended to follow, follow, follow the yellow brick road until I arrived here, and well, let’s just say I’ve come away from that little detour having seen enough lions, tigers, and bears to last me a life time. It’s fortunate that Marcy, as I believe you call her, was helpful enough to point me in the right direction, even if she was a little, er, enthusiastic about it, shall we say. But so long as her boundaries were respected she was actually rather helpful. As I understand it she tend to be considered a bit of a nuisance here, so this may be useful for all of you to keep in mind, especially since I’ve noticed that a few of you are not finding your way to the Mess Hall easily enough. I can see how it would be confusing, what with the signs pointing towards what appears to be cake and death and even someone’s Mother.
But enough about my own directionally impaired journeys, let’s jump right into things, shall we? I’d like to begin with a practical lesson today, but I think since I’m nearly as new at dealing with these creatures as you are, we should go over some background first before continuing on with our wands-. Er, and no, Mr. Gaauuuugh, that section of the lesson won’t involve the removal of your pants, so if you would please keep your belt in place -yes, thank you. Now, your Director has been kind enough to provide me with information on these particularly unique specimens, however, as most of her notes seem to consist of “just bend over and take it” and other similar variations, I may need to disregard most of her advice. Fortunately, I daresay I’ve devised of other, more effective, ways of dealing with them. I would like to say that I’m sure she was only too overworked to provide a more detailed list, but I take it the eye-rolling wouldn’t be a positive reinforcement of that statement, would it? Well, no matter.
Today’s lesson will be focusing on the gorillas. I know their size can be intimidating and that their odd colouring can be startling at first glance, but really, so long as they’re not disturbed there’s no reason that they should be of any threat to you. I have however noticed that when they’re in danger of becoming aggressive they begin to perform a very specific series of movements, almost like a dance. I’ve been informed that this is best recognized by the word “caramelldansen”, and I would advise you to slowly back away should you see the gorillas take on this behaviour. I know some of you have also made a habit of offering them bananas in an attempt to keep them calm, and I would have to urge you to not continue on with this kind of behaviour. The gorillas only seem to find it patronizing, and after observing them, they seem to prefer by far long walks along the beach and romantic era artists. Really, it surprised me too.
Oh dear, it seems we’ve run out of time for today. For your homework please write up any experiences you’ve had with the gorilla’s here, and if there are any questions I hope you’ll be willing enough to approach me after class with them. I assure you, I don’t bite.
Poll Vote!
Character: John Constantine
Series: Hellblazer (comicverse)
Age: 56 - but looks about thirty.
Job: Camp Misanthrope
Canon: John Constantine, the Laughing Magician - a name known in magical circles from America to Zimbabwe. The chain-smoking, foulmouthed English magus has made a bit of a name for himself, between tricking the Devil (three times - not exactly an unimpressive feat), curing cancer, and saving the world innumerable times. He's a master of ritual magic - although he tends not to rely on it, and he's more what you might call a psychic conman. And it's not without its price - his escapades tend to gain him more enemies than friends, and the friends he has have a tendency of ending up dead. Especially since he began owing the Devil his soul in 1991, his main aim has been to stay alive as long as possible. Mind, you wouldn't necessarily think so, to look at him - he's too addicted to the occult to stop using magic, too much of a humanist to stop stepping in and saving people, and he still drinks like a fish, smokes like a factory chimney, and gets in fights with the wrong sorts of people.
John seems, at first glance, like your classic cynical bastard. And at second glance. And-- okay, he's your classic cynical bastard. And fucking impolite with it. He hates elitists, he hates rich people, he hates people who don't help other people... he probably hates you, unless you just bought him a drink. Despite all this, he can be charming when he wants to be, and he wisecracks more or less constantly. He doesn't have many friends, but he cares deeply about those he does, and, despite appearances, he cares a good deal about humanity as a whole. He's not against a bit of crime where necessary, and he regularly walks over people to be where he needs to be, but whoever said being a good guy meant you had to be nice
Sample Entry:
Ha fucking ha.
Only bloody job offer I've had in years, and I'd still turn it down if I hadn't... somehow got here anyway. And speaking of, how the hell did I get here? And where is here? Camp Fuck You Die, I suppose - and congratulations on the cheery, welcoming name, by the way, Elizabeth - but that's not exactly specific.
Oh, sod it. I'm still hoping this is a bad trip off something, and they're busy shitting their pants over my comatose body. Jesus, I wish I could believe that...
But even if this is real, and you're up there thinking this is funny, I'm telling you-- Shit! There's a fucking duck eating my shoe. Get the fuck out of it, you feathery little bugger! Go on, piss off, before I-- ow! Oh, you son of a bitch, you were aiming for the balls, weren't you? Give me a cleaver and a place to stand and I might not move the earth, but I'll have duc a l'orange tonight...
...Yeah, you fucking better run. Flap. Swim. Whatever. I'm going to beat a very brave retreat before you call over the whole nest. Oh, yes, I see that look in your beady little eye, you bastard. Fuck you, and fuck the countryside. Hell, Hyde Park's too big a field for me. I'm a city boy, always have been. And what now? Now I'm stuck in a damn summer camp looking after a load of kids. And, I mean, seriously, they couldn't call in anyone who lives in the same country? Or who can look a scarecrow in the eye without trauma flashbacks? I'm telling you, all the worst shit happens in the country. Just look at the news. The country drives people nuts.
Apparently me quicker than others, since I'm seeing robot cows and tentacle monsters. This is not bloody okay. There's a psychedelic pigeon talking in my head, I'm soaking wet 'cos I just fell into a pond full of killer ducks, and you know what's worst? What's unforgivably worse? My fucking fags are wet.
Is this some sort of misanthropy test? Because if so, I think I pass. I hate the world. I hate the camp. I sure as fuck hate you right now.
Poll Vote!
Character: Yukimi Kazuhiko
Series: Nabari no Ou
Character Age:27
Job: Camp Journinalist
Canon: Ninjas still exist today. They pass as regular people of the "surface world" with normal jobs, holding their covert meetings in mountain retreats (for the more traditional clans) and on the Internet (for those who’ve moved with the times.) And this secret ninja world - the world of Nabari - is abuzz with rumors that the greatest technique, the reality-altering Shinrabanshou, has returned in the body of an indifferent boy named Miharu. Everyone wants it - and the bigger clans, like Iga’s Grey Wolves, may be strong enough to take it.
One of the Grey Wolves is a man named Yukimi Kazuhiko. Although he’s gainfully employed in the surface world as a journalist, writing mundane articles about restaurants and local events, in the world of Nabari he’s a squad-leader and master of hidden weaponry. But although these are traditional roles, he’s one of the ones who HAS moved with the times. His weapon of choice is a gun, his hair is dyed blond, he’s got multiple piercings in his ears, and he wears truly eye-searing shirts - all in all, people might believe this punk is more like a yakuza than a ninja. A loudmouth with a devil-may-care attitude, he shouts comically over every little mishap and might seem a little high-strung when on assignment, but it doesn’t actually get to him. Outside of missions, he’s every inch the casual tough guy. His loud looks and personality cover a softer core, though: although he’ll protest that he hates kids and doesn’t want to put any effort into things outside of work, he loves his family deeply, has a deep-seated need to take care of the helpless, and adopts stray kittens. Basically, he’s a hitman with a heart of gold.
Sample Entry:
Yo~! The name’s Yukimi Kazuhiko, and I’m here to research an article for Restaurants Weekly - I’ve heard you’ve got one hell of a house speciality around here, the "Tuesday Mystery Soup". If it’s a mystery, I guess you’re not willing to part with the recipe, huh? But I hope you won’t mind if I snap a couple of photos, maybe get a few people’s reactions? And hell, if you don’t mind sharing, maybe you’ll give me a taste? For free, of course. I’ll give ya a good honest review and make sure to mention your friendly, cheerful service...
...or that was the introduction I had planned to give, anyway. What the hell? I was going to integrate myself in here properly as a surface-worlder, you know! I wasn’t expecting to be met by the goddamn leper ninja doom squad, walking around like they don’t give a damn who sees them. No point keeping my ties to the world of Nabari hidden if they’re nin-nining it up all over the place. Haven’t these guys heard of the code of secrecy? I mean, who the hell dresses like some kind of TV drama ninja these days? And if they are gonna geek it up like they’re on TV, they should at least pick a goddamn genre and stick to it! ‘Historical drama’ and ‘zombie horror flick’ just don’t mix. And don’t let me get started on that clan name. "The Unindead"? Walking around, moaning "Braiiiiniiiiins?" Yeah, I don’t know, maybe that’d work if they conduct their assassinations through laughter.
That all said, don’t get me wrong - it’s kind of impossible to be intimidated by these guys - but isn’t there something pretty fucked up having a bunch of zombie freaks be around kids all the time? I’ve downloaded a few horror movies in my time, you know, I know how these things work. Take a look at this place! Hoards of cute little angels, teenagers with unresolved sexual tension, girls with big tits, and on top of that it’s all set in some weird hick-hell farmland? I’m surprised they haven’t got killed yet, it’s like a freaking checklist! And, sure, I’ve seen the kids raised in the World of Nabari and the things they can do - but still, come on. Raising children to be murderers of normal humans is one thing, but taking on horror flick monsters? That’s a whole different ball game!
Or I wish it was a different ball game, but that over there is a bunch of kids taking bats to some of the zombies and, yeah, what the hell, I’m pretty sure they’re playing baseball with their heads. What the hell, it really is just a game to them?! Fine, I take it back, whatever! The kids are all right, nothing to see here, move it along, get over it! Arrgh, I can’t believe I got all worried and everything. This is why I hate brats!
Poll Vote!
Character: Old Spice Man
Series: Old Spice Commercials
Character Age: Eternally nubile and handsome
Job: Freshly Scented Example of Manliness
Canon: Look at your television. Is it on? If it is, you might see an advertisement for Old Spice bodywash. Look back at your computer. By now you must realize that the Old Spice Man is a glory example of Gary Stu sexy godliness. With witty commentary, a dedication to his product, and manliness to spare he is the man you wish the men you knew could be like.
Sample Post:
Hello, campers. Do you know what you're lacking? I do. And the thing which you lack is a manly odor. There are many odors wafting here. Most of them are disgusting. If you do not want to smell disgusting, use Old Spice bodywash. Your manliness will become enhanced to a state where stating over 9000 is still an understated understatement.
Are you following? Good. One-handed cow tipping!
You may think, this is all he has to offer. Wrong. While the varied delicious and enticing odors of Old Spice bodywash are my main selling point, I have other skills. So many skills. Why, the number of skills I contain could only be counted using the phrase "infinity plus one."
That's how skilled I am.
I have personally met every shark featured on Shark Week. A charming lot. It is not necessary to punch every shark in the face. This information could prove vital if a force of monocled sharks were to appear within your camp. You have ninjas for those sharks, you say? While I have not trained under a waterfall, it was only because I stood at the top and the water shot up, coming to me. Diverging free flowing water is never a problem if you use Old Spice bodywash and not lady-scented shampoos.
Xenomorph face punch! I do punch every xenomorph in the face.
My greatest asset as your newest counselor is Old Spice bodywash. If you were to turn into the fairer sex due to shenanigans of a most jovial kind, only a drop of Old Spice is needed to bring you back to your manly self. So, what will it be? Will I astoundingly astound you all by entering your astounding camp with my manly bodywash? Or will I ride off into the sunset, none the worst for wear, to other pastures to spread the word and tangible smell of my product?
You decide.
Assisted livestock birth! I have a newborn lamb. And I will nuture it to adulthood.
Poll Vote!