Tacitus

Gnorman turned, and saw the newcomer. With a last glance at his Gnomometer, he greeted... Him? Her? Gender was difficult. It was far better for all members of a species to be genetically altered clones of the original. Much simpler. "Nishde! I... mean... How do you do!" Gnorman mentally scolded himself. He'd have to be far more careful about speaking Gnomish.

"I suppose so. It's really somewhat ironic, considering their disposition, isn't it?"

Gnorman Gneablies walked into the town where nothing happened. Well, he thought, obviously not nothing. His Gnomometer readings were off the charts, and the International Gnome Federation For All Things Pertaining To Gnomoid Beings. He would have to find the source of all these Gnomons. Gnomons, of course, were a sort of particle that all gnomes can sense, and which the IGFFATPTGB was in charge of monitoring throughout the world. As Gnorman walked, he used some of the Gnomons that were so abundant here to conjure up a new outfit. Brown overalls, and a dirty blue shirt, along with a hat he had seen referred to as 'cowboy'. He did not, of course, know how in the world cows and boys had crossbred, but the hat customary to their culture was quite nice.

Tangent stood, leaning on the walls of the small room the Set had provided for planning. He was the first to arrive, so he merely stood. and hurt. He could hear, distantly, a sort of rhythm. The rhythms of pain. They pulsed from his spikes, of which he had three, each granting a power. The first, the abilities of a leecher. The second, a nicroburst. And his third, giving him allomantic bendalloy. Among average men, he was far superior. Among the agents of the set, he was the average one. Tangent stood.

Well, I hate to start a revolution, but... Klier thought as he exited the building. Well, okay, that's a lie.

*Tongue clicks*. Anything is possible if you believe! (This has been inspiration with Omi

I suppose we know one more thing not to put in the perfect RP, then.

So this is exactly what it sounds like. Ideally, we will be able to logically decide, based on various factors, how to create a perfect RP. First, factors that determine a RP's success: Chronological length (How long it lives), Thread length (how long the thread gets [excluding any specifically meant to just be long]), and overall enjoyment of the RP. Factors I can think of that would affect a RP's success: Idea origination (Someone else's, or original) How and how well the idea was 'pitched' Control (basically Dm'd-/-Free action) Number of RP'ers What we'll do is suggest more factors that would affect an RP's success in the thread, and then, the long grind, assessing, if not every, many RP's, judging their success, and using that to see what causes a RP to be successful. Then, we test the theory and try to create the perfect RP.

WoT:

Here's the shade, @Honorless: Here it is, @The Unknown Order: (I don't know what it is about your requests, but they always seem to turn out funnier than others.)

"The happy Sharder gets too sad and reads Avengers romantic-comedy comics" is not the doomed future of the crystal Radiant Sharders, it's bloodthirsty kittens.

Here's my attempt, @Mage:

Thanks.

DuRg nEzbit, Fadran. Why ya gotta do that to me? Why ya gotta be so DuRgin good?

But you could be lemonade.

"Then I'll watch out for you less than usual," He said with a grin.

Twigs. Branches. Logs and tinder. All bow to the grand might of the stick. The stick shall outlast any trial, any apocalypse. Steel and Stone shall bend before the Stick shall. Exerts bond to a stick. The might of a stick fuels me. I am a man. But I shall aspire to be as the Stick. Never shall I be a fire.

I mean, from what I've skimmed over about mindscapes, they're a pretty different thing, but then again, I just skimmed. You want in, Fadran?

So I've got an idea for a rill cuul RP. Basically, there's a whole little planar realm for people to explore and fill up with stuff. I'll explain the specifics in the PM if people are interested, but there's a specific way that some people become worldhoppers, and certain things that fuel all the magics and worlds. We'll decide together in the PM what exactly might drive the plot, besides of course 'Hey we're all worldhoppers'.

Seconded

"Many things, Sirrug. Many things." Attin released Brute, putting his sole focus into Mesh and hiding Brute how he had the other puppets. "I don't suppose you're plotting anything I should know about?"

*Picks Chemoarish out of instinct and name*

Brute swiftly caught it, and Attin internally sighed. Saying it that way made Attin sound far crueler than he was. "I suppose it's a deal, then." He did not dismiss the Vackhen he had summoned from the clouds, but reared them back, away from Sirrug. He dismissed Steel and Hood, hiding them away. He could instantly feel the relief of not holding four bodies.

"Borutan. Leave the Lifted. No one has to lose today," Attin said through Brute. Perhaps greater violence could be avoided today. That was a win in Attin's book.

We are a stick.