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[Araph]

Most of the forum games I try to make are sort-of-but-not-quite railroaded. I mean, I don't ignore suggestions if I can help it, but I really only leave one avenue for the plot to go down. Well, to heck with that for this game! Let's see if people hearken to more open world games now.

Ye Olde Suggestione Adventureth



At last you've arrived at the city of Chirdenhov! Center of the kingdom, jewel of the west! Pilgrims come from hundreds of miles to walk its horse crap covered paths of the market district and to stroll along the lofty lanes of the slums! You, on the other hand, are no simple pilgrim! A BARD of the highest caliber, you've got better things to do than meander about!

You stride into the main square and stand triumphantly, using the back of a conveniently placed carpenter as a stool to pose dramatically with a leg upon. He doesn't seem to pleased about it, but who cares! You're ridin' high on a wave of endorphins, and ain't no surly laborer gonna break your stride! You take a moment to plan out your actions and catalog your supplies.

You have a Ginderson guitar. It was made by the famed Senex Ginderson himself, who, when questioned about his, ah... unique design for his guitar's tuning knobs, replied "Eh? Oh, is that what those things were supposed to do?" You treasure your guitar beyond all of your other worldly possessions. You also have your distinctive bard shirt (designed to allow a display of manly chest hair, which you currently lack), your rugged pants, and your stylish shoes. Your monetary assets amount to approximately four copper pieces and a iron button that you polished to make it look like a silver piece. Oh, and your lucky ring, which you think may be magic; passed down from generation to generation, from your father to you, from his father to him, and from his father's friend to his father after he made a particularly good bet on the arena matches.

You can go anywhere in the city, from the taverns to the markets, from the posh palatial abodes of the upper classes to the city's seedy criminal underbelly. But before you go anywhere, you need to reinvent yourself! You could never change your adventurous and imaginative nature; your bardic soul compels you to seek excitement and stories. Even so, you have a name that is getting a bit worn and needs replacing! What moniker should you take upon for your new adventures?

[Chink]

Search the markets for some armor.

[Araph]

Um... I'd appreciate a lack of callbacks to previous forum games if at all possible. And regarding magic: while there is some magic, it's mostly just superstition and trickery. Just so you know before setting your hopes on him becoming a wizard.

[Chink]

Sorry about that, I just used that because I couldn't think of a good name. Changing now.

[thatkid]

Um... I'd appreciate a lack of callbacks to previous forum games if at all possible. And regarding magic: while there is some magic, it's mostly just superstition and trickery. Just so you know before setting your hopes on him becoming a wizard.

So I shouldn't suggest that you acquire a codpiece post-haste?

[Trapezohedron]

> Your name is Paintbristle Chalk-Eater, and you aspire to be a swashbuckling pirate adventurer extraordinaire!

> You decide to go to the bar to regale potential patrons with tales of Ingvar White-Hooffaced. You also boast to others that you will go vanquish the nearby criminal or horrorterror, in town or above the mountains with only your insane guitar riffs.

[OscarComrade]

Your name is DAVE, and you aspire to be a HORSE KILLER.
You decide to go to the nearest MOUNTAIN, and laugh at the MISFORTUNE of those who are below you.

[Yoink]

Your name is Tallabus the Longwinded, and before anything else you have to get in tune.
Whilst still standing on yon peasant, tune-up your trusty guitar.

[Mullet Master]

Your name is Flatus the Foulwinded,  and the lullaby played by your guitar has lured the peasant close enough to be defeated by the breath of your bowels.
You do this not because you are seeking of the peasant's gold, but instead you are the son of a nobleman and you enjoy seeing the working class suffer. Your friends think you are a comedic genius and an above average guitar player.

[Araph]

You tune up your apparatus. Strumming a chord, you can feel the sour twanging of the misshapen beauty echoing through your soul, giving wings to the pidgins of emotion that reside there and hurling them bodily into the air of your heart to take wing and soothe the beast of your mind with their tasteful warbling. A single tear of liquid clear joy comes to your eye at the florid description you thought of.

The peasant you're using as a footstool shakes a fist in rage at your dallying.



But enough with the poetry! You've got a reputation to maintain! Typically you would climb partway up a mountain and deliver a thundering dose of expository storytelling to enamor the peons below you with your eloquence and skill, but you're strapped for mountains at the moment. You settle for clambering upwards onto a roof and belting out the sordid tale of Ingvar White-Hooffaced.

A small crowd gathers below you, somewhat enamored, but in need of convincing. At the end of the narration, you declaim your intent to prove your heroship to the huddled masses, pledging to slay any monster that may be plaguing the city -- wait, WHAT?!? What the hell are you saying? Crap, can't just retract that, let's hope they don't have any major --

"A horrid creature of the night has been terrorizing our city! Cfkalaulhu Imodesnise the Demon of Nightmares strikes monthly! In its lust for murder, it has slain six hundred and thirty seven! Beware it's vorpal claws!"

-- problems.

Well, now. You've just agreed to slay a fearsome creature of the night. What do you do now?

[Trapezohedron]

"Oh come on, you have to be kidding me!"

Be coerced into killing that monster.

[Chink]

Find some meatshieldsfollowers.