The Genre Game

This is a fun game that is meant to get your creative juices flowing, and stretch your imagination leggies. Here is the premise!

I will begin by picking a genre for someone to write the character of their choosing in. It can be anything from a little blurb to a novel, write to your heart's content! All you have to do is claim that Genre, so that you have it locked in, and then pick the genre for the next person to write in! No rush on getting your writing up, this is all for fun! When you do have it done, go ahead and edit it back into the initial claiming post to keep things neat!

You can suggest any Genre, but here are some helpful examples:

High Fantasy (LOTR, D&D type stuff)
Zombie Apoc/Post Apoc
Coffee Shop
Animal/Wolf/Warrior Cats
Cyber punk
Historic (player's choice!)
Space/Star Wars
Fandom (player's choice!

First up, someone write me some Historic!
hello i’m snagging historic.

someone write something western :3
GENRE: Western (but with a twist bc i could)
Character: Edvin Beck

The saloon was sparsely populated this evening, a few lonely souls warming stools at the bar, and a man in the corner with his tie being twirled through the fingers of a wine drunk soiled dove. Despite it’s desolate appearance, it was filled with lively music from the piano that sat elevated on a landing before a flight of stairs. It was a jaunty tune, inspiring thoughts of rowdiness and roughhouse, if one was so inclined to let music persuade them one way or another.

Outside, a raven cried mournfully as it took to the evening sky, soon to be an indiscernible splotch among the muddy blues and greys of an overcast night. The man that had startled the raven from its perch on the outside railing entered wordlessly. He was a tall, lanky fellow. He sported clothing that was worn, and dusty. His skin, much the same. Below the brim of a frayed hat sat sunken, cold eyes. They were blue, like the topaz that nestled in the throat of the bolo he wore. Wordless, the man took a long drink of the room around him as he stood by the door.

The piano’s tempo changed.

Seemingly, the man decided the establishment was worth his patronage. In he strode, spurs a tinkling harmony to the notes that poured through the wooden walls. To the bar he went, where men made room, and the bartender regarded him with a casual greeting, before setting to work on fulfilling the man’s order of ‘anything, but make it strong.’

The piano’s tempo changed.

And so the glass was filled, and the man took it in his calloused fingers. He had not stopped glancing his way around the room. To the man in the corner, to the faces of the men at the bar, to the figure with its back turned to him at the piano. The man could not get comfortable, and he could not determine why. His hand rested idly on the butt of his pistol, but he drank deeply from his glass. It was strong.

This went on for a few more minutes, the sky outside choking out the last of the light of the day, and denying the stars and moon their time to shine. Inside the bar, the energy remained a stagnant sort. The piano had slowed into a placid, mournful tune. The man in the hat decided it must have been that that kept him from relaxing. Though he had drank so deeply, he was starting to feel… Well, not relaxed at all. In fact, he noticed that his chest was growing tight, his throat soon after. He coughed, cleared his throat, and wondered if it was dust that his horse had kicked up on the way into town.

But he could not clear it, and he began to sweat. His vision blurred, and he struggled to see much beyond the end of his nose. The empty glass before him swam, and the faces of the men around him disappeared.

The piano stopped.

When he next became aware of himself, the man realized that he was on the scuffed, dirty floor of the saloon. His stool rocked beside him, upturned from his fall backward. Around him, men stood with guns pointed and faces blurred into suggestions of hardened expressions. One face, however, became apparent as it loomed above him.

A man of more than middling age, with grey hair and green eyes above high, defined cheekbones. He was clean, well groomed, and wore dark clothing. The pianist.

Edvin smiled softly down at the young man below him. Knelt on one knee, he peered over the face of his bounty was an almost bittersweet admiration. His companions loomed close, but said nothing as they waited for direction. The bartender removed the glass he’d filled with laced liquor from the bartop. The man and woman in the corner had fled as guns were drawn, and one of his men moved quickly to lock the door behind them, and draw the blinds.

”Quite the goose chase, my friend.” Edvin said to the man whom he knew could do nothing but look on in paralyzed confusion. ”Perhaps you may like to know you’re the longest I’ve pursued. Very elusive.” He informed the man. His gaze drifted then, to the hat that lay upside down nearby. With a small click of his tongue, he reached to grab it, and motioned for the four men at his disposal to hoist his bounty up. Rising himself, he dusted the hat lightly, and strode toward the nearest table to pull up a chair.

Placing the hat at the center of the table, Edvin relaxed into his seat as the man was loaded into the one adjacent. Maintaining that placid smile, he waited for his paralyzed victim to be slouched in a way that he would not take another tumble. Then, he spoke further, ”Apologies, that it had to be like this. I found there was no other way.” Though, he did think this was quite the clever set up. A lot of strings to pull, many small moving parts, but he was pleased that it had worked out marvelously.

”You are paralyzed. For now, at least.” He explained as he drummed his fingers lightly to the tune of the song he’d been keying before. ”You see, it is safest. For myself and you, as well. We cannot have you pulling any of your tricks as we have a conversation, can we?” Oh, and what wonderful tricks they were. The ability to shapeshift! What a fantastic gift. Of course, how could he shapeshift, when he could not move at all? Oh, perhaps he could, but what good would it do him?

"And that is what I wish to have, dear boy. Only a conversation." He assured with a deepening smile, his chin tilting inward as he leaned further forward, "If you wish to walk away from here this evening," He began slowly, so as not to confuse the poor degenerate, "You will listen, and you will tell me exactly where I can find the others like yourself that you have been working so dutifully to hide."

Write a Noir for me!
hi i'm noir

pls give me horror
I'll do Horror.

Pls Animals next~
I am animals.
Someone give me coffee shop~

give me rainbow sparkle puppy unicorn land, whatever that means for you, okay, it's a genre now
I will wrangle rainbow sparkle puppy unicorn land.

I request bubblegum cyberpunk!
Oh my god I don't know what bubblegum cyberpunk is but I'll take it.

Give me DINOSAURS. Your character is a dinosaur now. You're welcome.

Someone give me PIRATES
Oh wow, I want this!

Somebody please do, superheros :3
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