In the spirit of full disclosure, I snagged this song idea from All Songs Considered.

So you and your RP group have decided to run with a romance story. You’ve agreed to certain boundaries and you’re having a grand old time. What do you do next?

You keep the story alive.

Look, a story is a lot like a relationship. You have to give it the attention it needs in order for it to flourish. Even if the story (or relationship) is healthy and easy to maintain, you still need to put effort towards it. This can be small things, like a few minutes of RP on a non RP night, planning a big RP event between you and your partner(s), or ficcing up something “just because you can.” Keeping the RP Romance alive means you have to give these people, and their stories, more care than you may realize. That is part of what makes Romance RP special.

Now then, there is a difference between Romance RP and Erotic RP. ERP isn’t something that I, or many in my circle, are interested in. If you want to do it, that’s fine. Make sure that this is part of the boundaries you set out earlier. Surprise ERP isn’t spontaneous fun. It’s at best uncomfortable for your partner.

When the romance has those “tender moments” feel free to say “And Scene” or “And the Camera Fades to Black.” You could even play “Take my breath away” over your choice of audio chat programs.

Recounting a love scene in detail, when your partner is not interested in hearing it, detracts from the story. How can this scene affect the RP? Simple: If you and your partner agree to “fade to black scenes” and you start recounting this:

You are crossing boundaries. Again, at best this make RP awkward. Even Ficcing a love scene may be too much for someone, so if you want to fic the scene, you need to talk it over with the people you RP with. Otherwise, you jeopardize a lot more than your RP circle.

Romance is tricky folks, whether it is in a story or in real life. You have to take care of it, you have to set your boundaries and you have to talk about it. Otherwise, you may not just kill the romance. You could end up with ruining relationships.

The first rule of Romantic RP: Talk it over with the other player.

Let me perfectly honest here: You might think this RP idea is the best thing since D&D, but if the player of the character isn’t interested, you don’t force it. If they are interested, you need to do the following things:

In short, treat this RP like you would any other RPing partner. The major difference between this kind of RP and “traditional” RP is that you have to allow your character to grow and change based on what occurs in the in game relationship.

Not following Rule Number one isn’t cute or ground breaking RP. It is a serious breach of boundaries. Just because it happens in a romantic comedy does not mean its a good idea in game.

What are some other good rules for romantic RP? Do you have a story about Romance Gone Wrong? Fill us in!

This week, we’re going to talk Romance and RP. To prime the topic, let’s have an open topic on romance: Have your characters had romances? Has your character been on a date in game? Do you fic it or do you rp the date?

Fill us in!

There may be dozens of roles in RP circles. I don’t just mean the classes or professions, but the roles characters play within their circles, cities, and culture. In other words, how do others see your character? We have the leader, the heavy, the advisor, the traitor… What other roles can you think of? What roles do you typically play and why roles do you rarely see done (or done well)?

In the next xpac, we’re headed towards not just towards Pandas, but an elevated level of conflict between the Alliance and the Horde. On a more depressing level, we also need to realize we are going to loose people as WoW hits 7 and other games launch. During these next few months, before we run out of Cata Steam,long for Mop or say goodbye, we should lay the ground work for the next chapter of our game.

Right now, we can begin to think of how our toons can fit into the Horde-Alliance conflict. Granted, some of us will avoid all the spoilers we can while MoP is building; however, it is not a huge stretch of the imagination to begin to think of how our toons will react as the war heats up. Now is the time to approach players about building rivalries and future Rp events. For instance, I may have talked to someone else about setting up future issues.

IF you are saying good bye, think about how you are leaving the game. Are you killing off your toon? Is your toon riding off into the sunset? Is your toon just going to retire? Keep in mind that as circumstances in real life change, your decisions to leave WoW may change. In short, keep the door open if there is the slightest possibility that you may want to return.

We have said it many times before. RPing is collaborative story telling. OVer the next few months, either a chapter–or a story–are going to end. Give this ending the same care as you did your “golden age” of RP.

Fells, just Fells, has a fantastic story to tell. Sadly, she won’t tell you any of this story, even if you were in the Black and Red.

Eyan Woolery could have been her first, the son of an Eastvale logger who came by when his family needed produce and hers needed firewood. A yank on her braid had sent her chasing him into the forest, his quick wit had made her forget her anger, and for three weeks in the sweltering summer they’d been inseparable. Sneaking out had seemed fun and daring. She’d focused on tipping over sleeping cows and wading in the creek and making sure to ignore his attentions. It’d been easy enough to fend him off with a dismissive “‘trothed, Eyan” until he’d hovered too close and she’d realized that she was wetting her lips and watching his own all too intently. Their midnight misadventures ceased, Eyan Woolery took up with Jenna, the tanners’ girl, and Fells was free to wait for the betrothed she’d never met but was certain would come.

Her first was none of anyone’s business – an unnecessary cleanup job done in a fit of blind, stupid panic. At sixteen she should have been retrieved from the Brackwell farm years prior, or if not that, married off to a Light-fearing Elwynn boy and well on her way to giving him a family full of fat, happy babies. She’d helped slaughter and butcher meat for years; it’d been poor practice for taking a human life, crouched over the body in a slurry of dirt and blood that she still had nightmares of trying to wash off. It had been her sharp paring knife, snatched from the floor where it’d been scattered in the raid, that had done her first in. When she’d fled into the forest for safety afterwards, she’d flung it downstream into the creek. Besides needing it gone, she’d simply been trembling too badly to trust herself to run with a blade.

The farm had been her first. Her life was bordered to the east by the creek and the south by the river, with the road to the rest of the world out of shouting distance through the woods to the north. She could have followed it to the tiny schoolhouse twice a week and learned how to read. She could have cast her lot at the garrison once she turned thirteen, or found an apprenticeship in Goldshire at any place but the Lion’s Pride. Instead she’d contented herself with stealing away at odd hours to watch the comings and goings at Stormwind’s great gates. Whole nights had been lost imagining the lives of those who passed through and wondering if one of them might be her intended, finally coming to take her away. She had always ended up rushing back, had always been relieved and disappointed to find the farm still asleep.

One Lord Laurus Drachmas, third son of Heth Drachmas, noble of Lordaeron and self-proclaimed unrepentant freethinker had been her finest, and she would be damned if she’d admit it aloud anymore. Yes, he’d left her holding onto patience by her fingernails more often than not, and the rest of the world had asked her on more than one occasion: “Why him?” She couldn’t have explained their shared, base language of touch and pressure, and wouldn’t have even if her limited vocabulary had allowed it. When night had fallen on the bit of earth they’d carved from the world and claimed for their own, they could be together for a spell and she could believe that they loved each other, even if she had more and more difficulty with liking. Her devotion had been reckless, fervent, stubborn, and in the end, simply not enough.

Rengault Haneaux had been her finest. He was an agent of the Kirin Tor whose murder she’d never been charged with but had ended up sentenced to hang for all the same. It was debatable if the kill had even been hers at all. No, she hadn’t wielded the claws that raked his throat open; she’d only given the word. But the assault she’d rained on the body in a pique of rage might have been what technically did him in anyway. If nothing else, it’d certainly helped him shuffle off the mortal coil more swiftly, and had given her cause enough to claim the kill when she presented it to the man she came all too close to selling out instead of protecting. Haneaux’s had been the first murder she’d anticipated having to commit. It was also the only one she didn’t regret.

Stormwind was her finest; it had offered neither counsel nor compassion, but assigned its tasks just the same: find shelter, find a way to feed herself, find out how long she could manage without one or the other or both. She only had to hold out until her betrothed or her parents came for her, anyway. Like so many abandoned wretches she’d eked out comfort where she could find it, huddled on the front steps of its closed shops or the cramped crevices beneath its bridges where the rain didn’t reach. What coin she needed could be had from the pockets of its unsuspecting citizens. The city had never rewarded her for lessons learned other than the fact that she got to enjoy the benefits of her new-found skills. When she’d done well, it meant a room with a real bed and the luxury of getting to wonder how she would work through tomorrow.

Going by semantics, her last was a bit of a toss-up. With the lamp snuffed, the faint glow of elven eyes was hardly enough to go by, though she didn’t need sight to tell who was who. And in the end, the distinction mattered little. When dawn had burned away the night’s fog, the tangled pile of sheets and limbs separated easily enough into people who roused one at a time to go about their daily chores just the same. The first set to breakfast, the second set to children, and the third slept in far too late to catch the others at either until the sun had climbed well into the sky. Later that night, after the children were down, it’d more than likely start up again. Maybe it’d become routine, but who could ever hope for a more wonderful rut?

Her last was a real tenacious bastard. She knew when to expect him: when Felicia got that certain snotty grin and almost seemed to channel her father directly, that should have been the worst. But she expected the fight then, and it didn’t come, each time leaving her smugly thinking maybe she’d bested him for good. Then the want of him would sneak up on her and strike home without warning, making the back of her mind itch like an ant bite. She could have cut down an opponent of flesh and blood and been done with it, or set poisons to it and let them do the dirty work. Memories and mourning? She had to put those down as soon as they tried to take root, cutting them down with Better Off and Wonderful Home and No Longer Babysitting The Spouse. It was an unending task, but became easier by the day, and eventually she wouldn’t have to think about it at all.

Her last was a rough mishmash of things: children to wrangle and raise, a household to rebuild, a fallen country to help fleece and the spoils of which to see funneled into the right hands. More noteworthy was what it was not: for the very first time in her life she wasn’t mastered by the man she was promised to, hobbled by waiting or duty or playing mediator. Maybe a storm of circumstance tossed her about, but she was the one holding the rudder instead of trusting a Him to hold it for her and letting the rest fall to chance. It only took her twenty-two years to get it right.

Andrew Ross begins his “Have You Ever Seen Anyone RP a Peon” post with… a slam against RPers:

Let’s face it — most roleplayers are heroes, villians, peerless veterans, or other Mary Sues.

Shael, how does that make you feel?

Mr. Ross follows it up with this STUNNING ADMISSION:

I’m not on an RP realm…

He doesn’t play on an RP realm and yet writes a post that begins with sweeping generalizations about RPers?  Really?  So his expertise on RPers and their stories comes from where, precisely?  His article, short as it is, describes one guildie’s RP — which he doesn’t seem to be calling Sue-ish — and states that sometimes he’ll see PUGs trying to get some RP going, but that tends to fizzle.

Lore, any reactions?

Right.  So it’s just the old fish-in-a-barrel, make-fun-of-roleplayers trope, then.  Good to know.

Yes, there are sites dedicated to calling out over-the-top characters.  There are livejournal communities and blogs that rip into FlagRSP descriptions that tend to mention “curves in all the right places.”

I get it, I do.

But if you’d like to write an article discussing roleplayers whose characters are simple citizens — ones who don’t go out and slay undead, who have no affinity with magic and can’t hold a sword — why not simply talk about that, rather than make snide remarks about “most” roleplayers?  Why not spend a few paragraphs pointing out the Reese Langstons and Magars of Azeroth?

Mr. Ross might think he’s found a clever way to set up his question, but instead of actually talking about playing average characters and how one might approach it, he takes a four-paragraph article, dedicates the first paragraph to calling “most” RPers Sues, the second to describing his guildie’s RP, and the next saying that… what, PUG RP doesn’t happen, but his guildies’ story makes him chuckle enough to participate?  I’m not quite finding his point in there, but the last paragraph — half the size of the preceding three — finally asks the question that the headline advertises:

Have you ever met someone who RPed something unique? A seer who was always wrong? A farmer’s guild? A hard-working peon?

Nitpickery:  I get that the writer is suggesting that non-Sues are the rarities here, and thus his choice of the word “unique,” but I’m pretty sure that what he actually means is “ordinary.”

I’m sorely disappointed in Mr. Ross’ piece.  If you’d like to have a discussion about RPing an average Jane or Joe, hey great! As a matter of fact, we did that here at WTT:RP just over two years ago.  It makes for a really interesting discussion (and I see that at least some people in the WoWInsider comments are talking about just that.)  But why start out by tearing down the very community your topic is aimed at?

Unlike Mr. Ross, I’ve played on an RP server for nearly seven years.  Have I met the occasional long-lost half-dragon Menethil brother seeking Lordaeron’s crown?  Sure.  I don’t deny that some RPers have stories or character concepts that make them a little too special.

However.

The vast, vast majority of characters I’ve encountered are people who play quite nicely with the setting and lore we’ve been given.  They’re soldiers fighting under Stormwind’s banner against the undead and Twilight’s Hammer and anything else that threatens their families and their homes.  They’re trolls celebrating Zalazane’s demise and reclaiming the islands that once were theirs.  They’re gnomes wondering just how the hell to start rebuilding Gnomeregan, or goblins trying to make a buck after losing everything in Kezan.

They succeed and they fail.  They take risks and suffer the consequences.  Some days they just want to have a pint at the pub.  Others they’re out on patrol, teeth chattering in thewinter cold.  Hardly any of them would name themselves heroes, even if they’ve fought dragons or were there when Arthas fell — they have a job and they do it, simple as that.

There’s a lot of good RP out there.  Maybe Mr. Ross should roll himself a peon or an Elwynn farmer on an RP realm and take a look around.

A few weeks ago, the GM of our guild posted a story of Tarquin entitled First, Finest and Last (FFL). This brilliant piece summarizes and presents the history of Tarq in a new, vibrant way: Discussing Tarq’s first, finest and last bosses, loves and kills. It inspired dozens of similar posts. The format changes slightly for each character, but the major points remain: Who, or what, was the first, finest and last? How was this character shaped by other people?

Bricu’s isn’t finished yet. Normally this would just be an example of my slacking; however, my slacking can be your gain. If you want to write up your own FFL, you can my processes for writing Bricu’s story and apply it to your own.

I started by listing names of persons and places that matter to Bricu:

Then I looked for natural groups. For instance, Teigue, Threnn and Soli have all been romantically involved with Bricu. Aelflaed, Tundale and Uthas have managed to give Bricu some sort of a beat-down. Arthas is a particular example of where this can get sticky. Arthas was Bricu’s prince and commander, but he also put a beat down on Bricu (as well as everyone else alive in Azeroth). With a few additional names: Tarquin, Ulthanon, The Roses, the Maunts, Bricu’s groups start to firm up.

Once the name and the groups are structured, it’s easier to assign the First, Finest and Last. Aelflaed delivered a mighty fine (and well deserved) punch to the face, but was it the Finest or the Last? Looking at the other names in that group, it is clear that Aely is most recent, so for now, she’s clearly the Last.

FFL can be considered an epilogue. It might be the highlights of the RP and a way to say goodbye. I, personally, think its just a way to take stock of the character. It’s a chance to revisit what has been done and see how the RP has shaped your character. That may be what you need to get the RP flowing once more.

Share you FFLs with us. What are you going to write about? Loves, losses, fights, deaths? Something else? Share the works in progress and the completed story with us!

If you want to support this investigation, put your Flag in the comments! I will try to email everyone to discuss the pros and cons of their preferred add-on

10:04 AM me: I need your braiiiins. For a WTTRP post

10:05 AM Fellsie: Ooooooh!

How can I halp.

10:06 AM me: help me think of an idea. What RP wisdom should I look for or try to impart

also, I’m totally using this chat session in the post.

Fellsie: Oshi.

RP wisdom, huh.

How about a post on picking up random RP?

10:07 AM me: that’s been done I think

Fellsie: How about one on trying to join established RP? Lots of folks seem to have trouble knowing how to either join a conversation in progress, or eavesdrop/audience without it being creepy.

10:08 AM me: yeah. That ‘s worth a revisit.

So what new insight is there?

Fellsie: What’s been covered so far?

10:11 AM me: communication, not stalkerish behavior. No brooding NPCs

how to talk to people in a bar

actually.

10:12 AM Fellsie: The latter was gonna be my suggestion.

—

That isn’t me, just a regular at one of my old Bars and a regular in the Pig and Whistle…

As a gentleman of a certain age, I can attest to the nuances and differences in Bars and Bar Culture. There are Sports Bars, Juice Bars, Coffee Shops, Dive Bars, Music Clubs, Wine Bars, Gastro Pubs and “Meat Markets,” each with their own rules, customs and specials. Navigating these social morays in the real world is, relatively speaking, easy. You go to the Bar, eat and drink, and eventually leave. Becoming a regular is significantly more trying. One does not become a regular just by going to the bar, the same day at the same time, for weeks at time. No, one has to learn the culture of the bar. Regulars differ by not just by style of bar, but also day and time of day.

For instance, when I was dating my wife and going to stay with her while she worked at a South Side Dive Bar, I didn’t become a regular because I was dating the bartender. As her shift started, it was the transition from the day drinkers to the evening crowd. I focused on the later. So I bided my time by talking music, mocking the north side and buying drinks of the evening crowd. When the bar changed hands a year later, I was a regular.

The rules for working with regulars in a drinking establishment are similar to breaking into an RP Circle. To help draw the parallel, let’s focus on the Pig And Whistle on Feathermoon. Tuesday Nights, most of the Wildfire Riders and Associate Friends come by for a drink, swap stories and catch each other up RP. These people are the regulars. It doesn’t matter if another group of RPers show up on any other day of the week: Tuesday night has been (and will probably continue to be) Wildfire Rider Night at the Pig.

These are the regulars who have set up the tone and the “rules” of the bar. In real life, if someone acts up in a bar, bar-backs and bouncers remove the problem. In an RP setting, people can be reported; however, the most likely scenario is the following: Problems will be /ignored.

By problems, I mean individuals who dance on tables, have their toons run in their underwear and actively try and ruin RP. In essence, they’re griefers. Most people who read WTTRP are not griefers. They actually want to join the RP. So how to join the RP?

Join their conversations: Don’t sit in the corner table and Brood. Standard dive bar culture: Avoid the brooding people, as they’re the ones who are going to throw the first punch.

Participate, don’t dominate: Regulars like to hang out with other regulars. While they’re not opposed to new people, they are also not there to talk to the new people. They are there to drink with their friends. If you butt in on conversations, try to dominate a conversation or draw attention to yourself by being a jerk, you’re going to be at best, politely ignored.

Buy the first round: When in doubt, bribe new friends with drinks. It goes a long way to establishing new relationships. If the circle you want to join isn’t in a bar, bring food. Bring Drinks. Even if it is buff food, it goes along way to transition from “interesting person” to “new circle member.”

Keep coming back: The more you frequent the same circle in their setting, the more you show you are willing to be a part of their circle.

Your stories and your ideas are just as important as the stories and ideas of the “regulars” you want to visit. To share your stories, however, you have to acknowledge the RP that occurred before you joined it. One cannot just walk into a bar and declare oneself a regular. Likewise with an RP Circle. You can’t walk in and declare yourself to be part of the group. You have to work at it and share with them, not RP at them.