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Mini Story Sign-Ups!
13 years ago
==SIGN-UPS ARE CLOSED==
The combination of Guild Wars 2 and Mists of Pandaria that has recently entered my life pretty much means I won't be doing any larger projects for a while (SO MUCH GAMING TO DO!) but I still want to stay active. After some thinking/blatant theft from jaggr, I'll be doing a halloween mini TF story series. The idea here is to keep my writing juices flowing while having fun at the same time.
Premise: There's a store with a little bit of everything: toys, games, art supplies, electronics, pet supplies, etc. As it's October, there are also several racks of costumes and related props/accessories. Changing rooms are provided.
To join, please provide the following as a comment on this journal:
Person's First Name (it doesn't necessarily have to be yours)
Age
Gender
Three words that describe their personality (for example, quirky, friendly, adventurous)
What this person is looking for/gets in the store, be as detailed as you like
All characters will be starting out human, by the way. Please do not describe, specify, or in other ways request a type of change you want. The store will not like that. Enjoy!
The combination of Guild Wars 2 and Mists of Pandaria that has recently entered my life pretty much means I won't be doing any larger projects for a while (SO MUCH GAMING TO DO!) but I still want to stay active. After some thinking/blatant theft from jaggr, I'll be doing a halloween mini TF story series. The idea here is to keep my writing juices flowing while having fun at the same time.
Premise: There's a store with a little bit of everything: toys, games, art supplies, electronics, pet supplies, etc. As it's October, there are also several racks of costumes and related props/accessories. Changing rooms are provided.
To join, please provide the following as a comment on this journal:
Person's First Name (it doesn't necessarily have to be yours)
Age
Gender
Three words that describe their personality (for example, quirky, friendly, adventurous)
What this person is looking for/gets in the store, be as detailed as you like
All characters will be starting out human, by the way. Please do not describe, specify, or in other ways request a type of change you want. The store will not like that. Enjoy!
Age: 22
Gender: Female
3 word description: dangerous, determined, studious
Items: Longswords, camoflauge, boots
===
Emily frowned at the men coming out of the hunting supply depot across from where she was standing. It was one of the mall’s busier stores. Each person left carrying bags that held hunting vests, ammunition, and in some cases even rifles. Emily had never liked the idea of killing animals for sport.
She pushed the matter out of her mind as she entered the store across from the depot. Emily had a mission, after all. This was the third place she’d been to that day that sold props, but hopefully it would be the last. What she wanted wasn’t too hard, just a nice pair of longswords that didn’t look like cardboard covered in aluminum foil. Persistence paid off when Emily found her desired weapons in a barrel next to a series of medieval costumes. The blades were quite detailed and she actually couldn’t tell they were fake until getting close. They would do nicely—and they were on sale too!
As Emily made her way to the register, a shoe display caught her eye. While normally not one for shoe shopping, Emily couldn’t help but be impressed by a pair of camouflage boots at the front of the display. She picked them up. Sturdy, good material, and they looked to be about her size but it was best to make sure.
She ducked into the surprisingly spacious changing room and set the swords down on the floor as she kicked her shoes off to try on the camo boots. Emily put the boots on and stood up to see how they felt. The boots made an odd clacking sound as she walked around the stall. Thinking there was something stuck on the bottom, Emily looked down. Her eyes widened. The boots had become a set of camouflage ankle wraps. The clacking was coming from the pair of hooves her feet had turned into.
A coat of short, velvety fur erupted across Emily’s body. The rest of her clothes twisted and churned. The fabric of her shirt became a tough camouflage patterned Kevlar vest, her jeans a pair of forest green shorts with a hole at the back. Oddly, she couldn’t bring herself to react to these changes. Even as a short tail grew out of her backside and two fingers from each hand shrivelled away, the only thing Emily could think about were those hunters from earlier. Hunting was wrong, she thought as her face pushed out into a deer’s muzzle. No, wrong was too soft. It was an outrage! Arrogant humans, killing her kind for sport? Calling it anything less than an outrage was an insult!
The cervine woman bent down and gripped the sword hilts with a pair of three-fingered hands. She spun them dextrously around, watching their razor sharp edges glint in the artificial light. These would do nicely, the creature thought. These would do nicely indeed. What faint glimmers remained of Emily’s existence died in this new avenger’s mind as her mission was set. She would stalk the forests of this town, and bring her own brand of justice on those who dared trespass on another deer’s life. The hunters would stop, or become the hunted themselves.
42
Male
Friendly, studious, quiet
Costume: Werewolf
Charlie wasn’t picky when he entered the store. As long as it wasn’t something he’d be embarrassed to be photographed in, he was golden. It took less than five minutes for him to find the werewolf costume. A set of a furry gloves, decent-quality mask, and matching paw-shoes were sitting on the bargain rack a foot from the entrance. Just to be on the safe side, Charlie took them into the changing room to make sure they fit.
They did. Charlie eyed himself in the mirror, pondering over the odd impression the costume was giving him. The fur on the pieces was well-kept and actually looked like it had been combed. The claws on the gloves had been filed down so as to impact dexterity as minimally as possible. The mouth was closed instead of snarling like some of the other masks Charlie had seen on his way to the changing room, and the eyes were subdued rather than ferocious. Come to think of it, when combined with the business-casual clothes he was wearing, Charlie found the werewolf in the mirror to look downright normal ! Just an everyday guy, albeit slightly fuzzier than most. He could picture such a person working right alongside him in the library.
Actually, Charlie thought as he sat down, why wouldn’t a werewolf want to work in a library? He rubbed his chin as he mulled the idea over. Going down the street in the afternoon was noisy enough for a human so it would have to be almost unbearable for a werewolf. Why, if he were a werewolf, he’d jump at the chance to work in a quiet environment like a library. Charlie’s peaked ears twitched in acknowledgement as he nodded to himself.
Yea, the sound angle made sense, so scent probably would too. He grimaced from remembering all those acrid car exhaust fumes from the walk to the mall. The scents would cling to a werewolf’s clothes and fur for hours! But at work, he could enjoy the soft aroma of books. Charlie’s tongue lolled out of his mouth as he grinned, remembering the fond scent. The library had a light, musty smell of pages, with each book’s unique composition creating a subtle medley in his nose. He may not hunt anymore, but Charlie still took pride in those moments when he could track a specific book’s position by scent. He wagged his tail happily at the memory of when he deduced—by nose alone—which books in the fiction section had been put back on the wrong shelves.
Sure, he was just a systems engineer working on the computers, but Charlie loved helping out the librarians when he could. In fact, Sandra had invited him to the party after he’d flashed the ol’ toothy grin to a pair of kids that didn’t want to quiet down. Charlie blinked. He checked his watch and let out a startled yelp. The party started in half an hour! He needed to buy a costume and he was, what, pondering his job in a changing room? What was he thinking? The werewolf sprinted out and into the store and checked the aisles for something he could use. None of the masks—they were never designed to accommodate muzzles. And these clothes didn’t have tail holes! Getting home and driving to the party would take at least twenty minutes; Charlie needed to find anything that could work right now. He doubled back to a rack of headbands near the entrance. It would have to do.
The next day, photographs would begin circulating among library staff showing a very intoxicated Sandra toying playfully with the bunny-eared werewolf. The photographed subjects would not be amused by this. Everyone else would be.
Age: 24
Gender: male
3 word description: friendly, curious, and a bit lonely
Items: Costume dragon wings, collar for his pet, and some paint
Even with Halloween so close, Emien hadn’t planned on doing anything for the occasion. He had a hard time making friends and spent most of his time playing with Saber, which was what he was planning on doing instead of trick-or-treating or going to parties. Not that he’d been invited to any. Still, the wings would be a nice gesture of Halloween spirit, Emien thought while considering his reflection in the mirror. They were broad, but angled in such a way that they weren’t about to catch on any doorframes. It was a good look, he decided. Emien made to leave the change room when—
*SPLORTCH*
His foot smashed through the lid of the paint can sitting on the floor. How his foot had managed to crash through a welded lid wasn’t one of the young man’s concerns as he gaped in horror at the yellow paint splattered along his pant leg. His shoes were definitely ruined. With some effort, Emien pulled his foot out of the can. However, what came out of the can wasn’t a paint-drenched shoe, but a long, clawed, foot dripping in paint.
As Emien gasped, the paint on his foot suddenly dried into deep yellow scales that spread along his leg. He scrambled up against the door even as the scales washed over his other leg, reshaping it into a matching lizardlike limb while a ropey tail snaked out from the end of his spine. Emien’s chest heaved and barrelled out as the scales ran up his chest. His hands twisted and reshaped into a set of large claws. A sharp pain from his shoulderblades told Emien that the wings he was wearing were no longer costume pieces. They grew out and wrapped around him. The wings obscured Emien’s vision even as his pupils became slitted and his face pushed out into a draconic snout.
With his wings still blocking his view, Emien the dragon flailed in panic until the changing room door gave way with a loud *CRASH*. He fell out onto the ground, kicking up a surprisingly large cloud of dust. Emien coughed and wheezed—punctuated by small sparks of fire and smoke from his mouth—while he tried getting. Something was wrong with his balance so the best he could manage was standing on all fours. He could hear footsteps getting close and tried to make out who it was through the dust. It was a person. A really big person.
“Sabe?” The person said as they waved away the dust cloud. The figure looked to be in his late teens or early 20’s and gave off a strong ‘rustic’ vibe. “Geeze, Sabe, did you have a nightmare or something?”
Emien burst into an explanation and questions but all that came out was a series of frenzied chirps and clicks.
“It’s ok, it’s ok,” the youth said in a soothing voice. He knelt down and rubbed a spot near the centre of Emien’s forehead. Oh, wow, that felt nice.
“You’re safe now, Saber, it was just a dream.”
Emien knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but feel calmer at the youth’s words.
“Aww, but your door’s smashed now, huh?” The youth said suddenly, looking over Emien’s shoulder. The dragon turned his head and saw that he was in the middle of a yard rather than a mall store. Where the changing room once stood was now an odd cross between a doghouse and a bird’s roost. The door was indeed smashed.
“Well, you can use my bed until we get that fixed. Don’t think Mom and Dad’ll mind much.” The youth said with a smile. He scooped Emien up in his arms and grabbed something from the ground nearby. “Guess your collar came loose, huh, Sabe? Mind holding onto it until we get inside and I can put it on?”
He pressed the object into Emien’s claws. It was a small leather collar, perfect for going around a dragon’s sinewy neck. A silver plate on the front read, “SABER”. The youth continued to rub Emien under the chin as he carried the confused dragon into a small medieval-looking cottage.
Mind if I posted this on my account? ^^
Age: 33
Gender: male
Personality: compassionate; devious; reckless
Costume: A plain-looking belt on the floor between two overstuffed costume racks. The buckle has an engraving of a question mark.
==
Wilfred looked down at the sad little belt lying on the store floor. To either side were racks brimming with bright costumes just waiting for someone to come along and pick one, but here was this dull-looking belt lying discarded on the ground. He picked it up, more out of pity than anything else, and on a whim ducked into the changing room to see how it looked. Wilfred wasn’t normally one for belts—he always said that he preferred his pants to fit normally—but for today he’d make an exception.
The belt didn’t look too bad, he considered. A bit bland, except for the buckle, which had a large green question mark fastened on. The colour contrasted oddly with the dingy gray of the rest of the buckle or subdued brown of the belt. Wilfred ran a finger absently over the mark. It jiggled in place. He frowned, wondering if he could get a discount if it were damaged. A few more prods revealed that the question mark wasn’t loose in the traditional sense—it was on some sort of axel. Apparently the spinning was intentional. Wilfred chuckled. He was definitely going to buy this belt. He gave the question mark a twirl and watched it spin in the mirror. Maybe he could use it in a zombie gameshow host outfit...
A sudden throbbing made Wilfred clutch his head in pain as the question mark slowed to a stop. The instant it stopped moving he felt two bulges form on his forehead. The bulges erupted into a pair of large thick horns that curled downwards. Wilfred gaped at his reflection in the mirror. He recklessly grabbed one of the ram’s horns and pulled, accomplishing nothing but a very painful confirmation they were attached to him. He looked at his reflection, noting how the horns looked almost natural on him—well, aside from the fact that they coming out of his head in the first place. Wilfred’s eyes fell onto the belt buckle. Was it the cause? If he tested it and was right, who knew what could happen with another spin. He shrugged after a moment’s contemplation. Why not give it another spin? He already had the horns. If this were reversible, then no harm done. If not, well he was already screwed, wasn’t he?
Wilfred spun the question mark, then immediately sneezed as his face flowed into a fox’s muzzle, complete with fur and whiskers. He yipped curiously at his reflection, now reminiscent of some demonic bastard from Egyptian mythology, before spinning the question mark again. Wilfred’s shirt tore as a pair of large moth wings unfurled. He ran a finger over and giggled—apparently they were quite ticklish. A fourth spin made a pair of large hooves erupt from his shoes. Wilfred stumbled, wholly unprepared for the sudden shift in balance. In his flailing his hand sent the mark into another spin and a new pair of striped tiger legs not only gave him a boost in height, but strengthened his balance instead.
Spin number six brought out a flexible, scaly lizard-like tail that curled awkwardly in the confines of the changing room. Wilfred was definitely running out of space. As he peeked out of the dressing room door, his tail slipped around and tweaked the belt buckle’s mark. Wilfred felt a pair of bunny ears shoot up. The top of the left one bent slightly. The chimera shrugged, more focused on the clear coast. Wilfred wasn’t worried about being seen in his current shape—he was in a costume shop after all—but he didn’t want any eyes on him when he slipped into the far more spacious changing room reserved for the handicapped. That would just be awkward.
Wilfred’s tail waved happily through the new, more open space of the handicapped change room. Acting on a whim, he curled the thick, ropey appendage down behind him and leaned back. It supported his weight. Cool. Wilfred made a yipping giggle as he balanced on his tail and gave the belt its eighth spin. His arms and hands grew slick and clammy as all hair fell off them. Small fins emerged from his upper arms and webbing formed between fingers. Wilfred was now properly equipped for swimming, but only if he completely ignored the fur on his legs and head and the questionable utility of hooves underwater. He eyed himself in the mirror. Only his chest was still human. He spun the mark.
With a creaking rumble, Wilfred’s chest began to darken and harden into deep brown bark. His blood slowed as sap began to flow through his veins. The effect was... disconcerting. Also somewhat dizzying, but he soon recovered. The hoofed, furred, winged, webbed, scaled, and barked chimera looked himself over with interest. His wings fluttered, lifting him a foot off the ground while his tail waved back and forth below. This could be pretty cool.
Someone knocked on the changing room door. Wilfred let out a startled yip and fell on his rump in a heap. Had he locked the door? His long ears went rigid at the sound of the latch pulling back. Oh crap...
===
...With a creaking rumble, Wilfred’s chest began to darken and harden into deep brown bark. His blood slowed as sap began to flow through his veins. The effect was... disconcerting. Also somewhat dizzying, but he soon recovered. The hoofed, furred, winged, webbed, scaled, and barked chimera looked himself over with interest. His wings fluttered, lifting him a foot off the ground while his tail waved back and forth below. This could be pretty cool. But his eyes fell again to the belt buckle. Wilfred couldn't think of anything he had left to be changed, but curiosity got the better of him. He spun the dial a final time.
Wilfred's body stiffened. He fell to the ground. On impact, a mascot fox head rolled aside absently as a ram-horned headband slipped off. An empty pair of rubbery fish gloves lay tangled in fuzzy tiger-striped pants. A plastic lizard tail sat attached to a worn brown belt with an engraved question mark on the buckle. Where Wilfred had been, only scattered costume pieces remained. An employee would later complain about the mess some inconsiderate customer had left in the changing room. Unwilling to sort the items properly, they would be stuffed into the discount bin near the front. If it could, the mascot fox head might complain about his parts being sold for 5-10$ apiece. But it couldn't. Why would it? It couldn't even think.
Age: 25
Gender: Male
3 word description: Nerdy, Friendly, Thoughtful
Items: canine costume, futuristic-looking armor for the costume, space-ish looking weapon
Victor’s eyes lit up when he saw the Doberman outfit on the rack. He grabbed it without a second thought and hurried to the changing room. This was what he needed, he thought as he put on the costume. Space-soldiers were awesome in his book, but this cinched the look in his mind. In hindsight, he should have waited to put on the paw-gloves until AFTER he got the armor on, but he was too excited to care. After several finagling-filled minutes, he’d finished assembling his new costume.
It was fortunate that Victor had chosen to go with a visor array rather than a full helmet, since there was no way the latter would have managed to fit on the Doberman costume’s head. From within the mask, Victor grinned as he looked through the holes in the plastic amber eyes through which a transpired blue visor could be seen. Faint lines from his attempt to carve a heads-up-display could still be seen—one of his less successful ideas.
The combination wasn’t perfect, of course. He’d have to make some adjustments—maybe not try to wear both the paw gloves and shoes along with his armor’s gauntlets and boots, for starters. Plus he’d have to do something about the tail currently stuffed down his legplates. But these were minor complaints compared to the overall look. Victor admired his costume in the mirror. The deep brown of the Doberman costume contrasted nicely with the light blues and whites of his armor. He was a vigilant soldier, a loyal and watchful defender of the future. Sure, Victor was bound to get some jokes about being on the ‘K-9’ unit, but he could take them. This character was on a whole other level.
Victor’s fantasizing was broken when he remembered that he hadn’t actually bought the Doberman costume yet. He made to take off the headpiece to check for a price tag when it suddenly tightened around his head. The paw gloves and shoes followed suit, binding tightly to his skin. Synthetic fabric turned to flesh and fur as the costume merged with Victor’s body. His whole frame rippled and expanded, gaining the strength and muscle needed to support the armor that was rapidly changing from plastic to durable alloyed metal. The scratched markings on the visor grew more visible and started to flow across a lens rapidly turning to a thin crystalline HUD display. Amber eyes scanned the flows of data.
The gauntlets expanded to accommodate large canine hands. Small openings appeared on the tip of each finger to allow claws to comfortably poke through. The boots flowed like water as they reshaped to accommodate a digitigrade stance. A slot appeared in the back of the legplates for a short tail to emerge, as erect and alert as the peaked ears swiveling atop Victor’s canine head. Over his right breast, a paw print logo emerged emblazoned with a ‘K-10 Securities’ title.
A red light lit up in the corner of Victor’s visor and quickly expanded into a new security alert: code ten was in progress in sector A-5. His visor immediately linked to the relevant security feed showing an enraged man shouting at a terrified appliance saleswoman. Victor activated the radio implant to tell central he was moving in. He switched off the safety on his weapon as he left the changing room. A stunner pulse began charging in the pistol. It was time to get to work.
Age: 24
Female
Adventurous, Calm, Imaginative
Costume: Liontaur Mage? If that's an option n.n Otherwise probably looking for like a mage's staff and mage robes.
Some digging through the bargain bin found Karra a plush robe that looked as close to the hat in colour as she could find, though the shades didn't quite match. All of the wands were in that dull Harry Potter 'twisted stick' style, so she opted for a staff instead.
It was all right, Karra thought as she modeled the robe in front of the changing room mirror. She liked the deep blue of the cloth and it complimented the sea-green orb at the staff's head, but it didn't seem to fit her well. Sure, the robe fit as well as it could, but something about the way it was styled gave the illusion that it was baggier than it really was. The same could be said of the hat. When she put the hat on it fit snugly, but in the mirror's reflection the brim bent in such a way that it seemed to be slipping down her head. Karra sighed. No, this costume wouldn't do. It was nice enough, but she wasn't going to go out looking like she couldn't even fit into her clothes.
The hat suddenly felt loose. It sunk over Karra's head, blocking her eyes as the robe grew heavier on her body. She cried out in surprise, but the muffled nature of her situation stopped her from noticing that her voice was climbing steadily higher. Karra tried to remove the hat but her hands were caught beneath the robe. Attempts to extricate herself only made things worse. Soon she was hopelessly tangled in the cloth.
In her flailing attempts to get free, she dropped the staff. Its head struck the floor and launched a small blast at the impact. The bolt whizzed past Karra's head a struck the wall. Now sufficiently terrified, Karra's panic only increased at the sound of encroaching footsteps.
The door creaked as it opened and a hand pulled the hat off Karra's head. The little girl beneath looked nervously up at the extremely stern face of an eldery woman. Before Karra could squeak out an apology, the woman burst into a chiding lecture. This was the THIRD time Karra had been told to stay out of her master's closet, but did she listen? Noooooo! The woman sighed, asking if she had been wrong to take Karra on as an apprentice. The girl gasped and broke into apologies, re-emphasizing her desire to learn magic and pleading not to be sent away. With a reluctant-and well-practiced-shrug, the elderly woman accepted the apology and calmly helped untangle Karra from the robe. It was hard for the master to hold these incidents against her apprentice. She was just a child, after all.
Age: 27
Male
Personality: Gamer, Friendly, Wallflower
Item: Armadillo scale Backpack, possibly sees it as an excellent item to store his stuff.
===
Michael swung his new backpack on over his shoulders as he made his way down the sidewalk. He'd just gone into that costume place to browse, having no real interest in Halloween. The man hadn't expected to find such a great backpack. It was large, sturdy, and was patterned like an armadillo shell. It was a little loose on Michael, but that's what the adjustment straps were for. After some fiddling, he got it snug just right.
What thrilled Michael most about his find was simply how much space was in it. Most backpacks were too littered with extra pockets and divided space to hold any good heavy-duty items. Not this one. This 'shellpack' was just a big ol' space waiting to be filled. The shell itself was a stiff plastic, making it more spacious that an outside eye would assume. Maybe he'd use it to bring his Xbox over next time he and his buddies got together. Or maybe he'd splurge a little and pack himself a buffet lunch next week. The possibilities were endless.
A dry breeze carrying a cloud of dust passed Michael's path. He covered his nose and coughed before continuing on. The man's pace had slowed at this point. It was an odd feeling, he considered. Michael didn't feel tired, just... heavier. It was as if his whole body was possessed by a sudden weight, determined to pull him low to the ground. A sudden lurch from his back-or was it a stumble from his foot?-pitched Michael forwards. He threw out his hands to catch himself, more surprised at the sudden disappearance of the weight than at his fall. The weight returned when he tried to stand up, forcing him to stay on all fours.
Dust swirled around Michael's hands and feet as he walked along in this new position. It wasn't too bad, he considered, once he established a steady pace. As he walked on all fours, the dust-filled breeze returned. It blew against his arms and legs, coating them in a pale tan that adhered to his skin. Michael didn't notice. He didn't even register when the dust hardened into tough, dry skin, or when his face began pushing out into a long narrow snout. Even as his legs and arms began to swell and grow well past the size of tree trunks, Michael didn't register. Not even a flicker of concern came to mind as his backpack hardened into dermal bone, a massive shell for his enlarging frame. He just carried on.
The arid breeze blew past, barely affecting him. His massive, lumbering strides left deep impacts in the desert sand. A (comparatively) thin tail traced swaths as Michael lumbered on. The massive armadillo could have increased his pace, but he wouldn't. Atop the behemoths shell swept verdant, mossy grasslands and towering trees. He had grown so large, and walked so long, that Michael had become a veritable walking island. A moving oasis in the desert. He was on his way to one of the human outposts where grateful nomads were preparing a wonderful meal to sate his large appetite. Michael would rest, and the humans with their ropes would climb up and pick the fruit from his trees and take the occasional rainwater that collected in his valleys. After a week of rest, he would rise and move on to the next outpost. After a few weeks of travel, the next meal would be ready and his precious cargo would be suited for another harvest. Such was the way of this large wanderer.
Age: 14
Male
Personalty: Fun loving, innocent, playful, friendly and very giving, gulable, prankster, tech smart.
Costume: Blue shirt =p
Item: UHD (I think you might know about what that is. =p )
What's a UHD?
The youth flopped onto the couch and started opening his second purchase from the store—a universal remote control. According to the cashier ‘costume store’ wasn’t really an appropriate description of the business. She’d been kind of vague but Maxwell had finally managed to wrangle out an explanation that it was a ‘stuff store’. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but the place certainly had nice stuff—and cheap, too!
Some discarded packaging and a set of AA batteries later, Maxwell was fiddling with his new remote to try and key it into the living room devices. His parents wouldn’t be back until later, but he fancied himself tech savvy enough to manage without their help.
Ok, admittedly a proper techie wouldn’t have taken an hour and a half to set the remote to his cable box and radio, but the point was Maxwell had done it on his own! He grinned and ran his first test of the new device, pressing the button to turn on the radio. With a click the device sprang to life and music blared through the room. Maxwell hummed along, but after a minute found the song a bit too loud for his liking, so he reduced the volume. He frowned. That was odd. The radio’s volume went down, but it was like the song didn’t get any quieter—just more distant. The puzzled youth rubbed his ears but froze when he felt smooth metal. He ran to the kitchen mirror and saw that his ears were a pair of triangular speakers through which the radio’s song continued to flow.
As he stumbled back to the living room, Maxwell’s thoughts became more muddled. Playlist data, song selections, and station tunings were pouring into his head and pushing out any attempts at coherent ideas. Light blue metal—the same shade as his vanishing shirt—covered his skin as his body grew heavy and stiff. As Maxwell’s speaker-ears slid to the top of his head, his eyes faded into an LCD volume and track display. With a sound of gears churning, the increasingly mechanical youth’s hands and feet reconfigured to paws. Pistons pumped and orbital joints swiveled to force Maxwell into a doggy-style sitting position—a term that quickly became increasingly appropriate. An antennae emerged from the unit’s back like a tail. Maxwell’s metal face extended out into a broad, canine-like muzzle. His mouth was slightly open, ready to accept any disc placed inside. Unneeded organs flowed together to form a high-def television screen behind the unit’s chest, waiting to be deployed at its owner’s command. Neon words announcing ‘update complete’ flowed across the robot’s eyes before the device powered off.
The M4X-WE11 Entertainment Companion sat dutifully next to the couch for hours until the couple came back from work. They took excellent care of their strangely shaped media centre, often joking about how it was man’s real best friend.
20
Male
Gamer, curious, easy going
Kevin is looking for electronics stuff - maybe a game or two, but he's willing to look at electronic toys and interesting gadgets too. He'll be staying home and handing candy out this year, and isn't interested in a costume.
After twenty minutes and only 33% progress, Kevin's energy levels were getting low. He left the loading computer and popped downstairs for a pantry raid. The youth was a little confused while grabbing his snack since he was pretty sure his food wasn't as... generic as it was yesterday. Brand name packages had been replaced by simple labeling. Kevin selected a box of cookies and munched on a few, oblivious to the '+5 stamina' that floated above his head before vanishing.
He stored the half-eaten box before returning upstairs. The computer was at 80% complete. Good, Kevin thought. He brought up his journal to make sure he was clear for playing. Fortunately all his active tasks were crossed off, with just 'load new game' to go.
The computer flashed when it reached 100%, signaling the task complete. Kevin grinned as he moved into the chair. Just before he began playing a scream echoed from the street outside. He raced to the window. Cracks broke through the street, pouring forth waves of energy. High-definition monsters began clawing their way through the breach.
Kevin didn't even flinch at the sight. As his journal added 'save town' to his active list, the youth double checked his inventory to make sure his box of cookies was still there-nothing killed a fight like having to break off for an energy refill. As the digitally-rendered Kevin equipped his gear, he couldn't help but think that just once he'd like to have an afternoon to himself.
Age: 20
Male
Personality: imaginative, reserved, likable
Costume: Black trench coat.
His pace quickened as he walked home. The sky was clear enough but Mark had a feeling he just couldn't shake. The youth had just closed the front door of his building behind him when he heard a peel of thunder and the thick deluge of rain. Guess his feeling was right on.
Still wearing the trench coat, Mark took the elevator up to his office. He blinked. What office? He lived in this building. He didn't work in it. Blasted weather was screwing with him, probably. The door of Mark's apartment was looking more weathered than it should-he'd put a call in to the super about it. He made himself a cup of coffee and stood by the window.
Between sips, Mark watched the rain pound on the city below. A desperate torrent battered indifferent stones and worn streets, desperate to scrub away the accumulated sins of generations. He paused. Ok, that train of thought was grittier than he was used to. Rain must be getting to him. Mark was about to turn away when something on the street caught his eye. A flash of red running through the streets. It was a woman in a red dress, clutching a newspaper over her head in a vain attempt to shield herself from the watery onslaught. She was running towards his building.
With a solemn nod, Mark turned away from the window and back to his office. He sat his coffee mug on his desk and sat down, waiting. It always started with a woman, he considered. Dames, gals, whatever they were called, everything always came back to a woman somehow. That had been his experience. Wait-what experience? And... dames? That was just borderline sexist! Mark looked around. He'd never seen this desk before-why was it in his apartment? The whole room had changed it didn't even look like his place anymore. So why did it all feel so normal? There was a placard on the desk. He picked it up. The name on the front read 'Mark Malone, Private Investigator'.
Mark's bewilderment gave way to shock as deep brown fur erupted over his hands. He could feel it race up his arms even as his hands thickened and grew leathery pads. The youth's frame expanded and musculature grew to fill out the trench coat he was still wearing, which itself grew creased and weathered as if it had been worn for years. Mark's feet contorted and reshaped themselves into canine paws while his legs adjusted for a digitigrade stance. A thin tail wove its way through a specially tailored hole in his trousers. Mark went cross-eyed when the fur reached his face. He watched his face push out into a short, scruffy muzzle. Newly peaked ears swiveled and twitched, picking up the sounds of someone approaching the office door. High heels, from the sound of it.
"Mr. Malone?" The woman in red asked as she stepped through the door. Her hips swayed like a professional, her eyes glimmered like a beckoning night, and her crimson lips-Mark stopped himself, having no idea where his mind was trying to go with this.
"Yes." He said automatically, gesturing to the empty seat in front of his desk. "Please take a seat." His voice had acquired a deep growl mixed with a New York accent.
As the woman sat down and began to explain her situation, the old bloodhound leaned in. Even as his ears swivelled to catch every syllable and inflection of the prospective client's troubles, Mark's mind was turning. He had no idea what had happened, but somehow he was a humanoid dog-and a detective to boot! Years of a life he'd never lived swirled about his head, bouncing against the life of a human who Mark no longer resembled. He'd have to investigate, find out what had caused such a bizarre warp in reality.
"So will you do it, Mr. Malone? Will you help me find my brother?"
Mark eyed the woman. Her story seemed standard enough, but the dame's eyes said something her voice simply wouldn't. Fear assaulted his nose like a stale whiskey. Investigating the transformation would have to wait. Something fishy was up with this woman's story, and Detective Mark Malone was on the case.
Age: 15
Male
Reserved, funny, intelligent
Lariat is looking for a pair of Portal themed bracelets, for him and his girlfriend.
He paused in front of the door, grinning blissfully as he imagined Mary’s smile when he gave her the gift. Lariat wasn’t normally this emotional, but ever since he left the store he just couldn’t get her out of his head. Every ounce of love and affection he had for Mary was just welling up inside him. Lariat rang the doorbell. We waited a minute then rang again. No answer. She must be out.
Undeterred, Lariat sat down on the porch. He pulled his legs up to his chest, perfectly content to wait for his love to come home. As he waited, his thoughts of Mary grew until his body wasn’t enough to contain them. Lariat felt his frame expand and widen to accommodate his overflowing feelings. His love for Mary flowed across and hardened his skin like a protective hug.
When Mary got home she was surprised at the gift waiting for her. A full-sized Aperture Science Weight Companion Cube sat on the front porch. Taped to the front was a sticky note from Lariat saying that his family had to move, but would always love her no matter where he went. Mary would keep the Companion Cube with her throughout her life. Even though she would eventually give her heart to another man, a part of her always remembered her first love. What part of Lariat still remained in the Cube was content with this. After all, he was with the woman he loved, always and forever.
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Three words that describe their personality: introverted, caring, playful
What this person is looking for/gets in the store, be as detailed as you like: Any sort of childish costume he can wear to the work costume party - Peter Pan would be his preference if he could find it, but he'd take a cartoon character too: Ben 10, Digimon, Chip from Rescue Rangers. He's trying to use the party's costume requirement to let his inner child out a bit, basically.
There were plenty of options to choose from. Peter Pan and Digimon costumes hung off the shelves just waiting for someone like Kyle to pick them up. He nearly did several times, but something always made him stop. Whether it was concern about how his coworkers would react, Kyle wasn't sure, but as much as he loved these costumes nothing felt right to him. Then he saw it. A crisp navy blue vest and shorts. A blazing yellow bandanna. A sash adorned with badges. It was like someone had taken his old Scouts uniform and blown it up to adult size. There was even a small propeller beanie to top off the youthful look. Kyle didn't need to go to the changing room to try it on. He knew this was what he would buy.
So it was that Kyle attended his office party dressed as a Scout. His coworkers had put varying levels of effort into their own costumes. Frank the mailman was wearing only a plastic lion mask while chatting with a full-suited velociraptor-Sally from marketing, if the hat was any indication. Kyle made his way through the crowd, giving nods and hellos when appropriate, and got himself a snack from the refreshment table. A few people commented on his costume, but these were largely in passing. As the evening wore on, Kyle felt unfulfilled. He took off his beanie and twirled the propeller idly, wishing for just a bit of that childhood endearment he was looking for.
A sudden commotion drew his attention back to the party. Confused mutterings surrounded Frank and Sally, each of whom were exchanging perplexed looks. They were right to be confused. Frank's mask was now a highly-detailed image of Simba from the Lion King, while Sally's velociraptor was an unmistakable Barney suit. A few angry accusations were tossed about but quickly drowned in the laughter of the crowd at such an absurdity. Hanson, who worked across the hall from Kyle, mentioned that he once say the Lion King four times in one weekend as a child-a story which caused several others to nod in remembrance of their own similar experiences.
Kyle looked down at the beanie in his hand. An odd thought crossed his mind. He spun the propeller again experimentally. More gasps, mutterings, and giggles signaled that his hunch was correct. A few extra spins later and the costumes of the entire office had been changed to reflect fonder, playful memories. It was like a wall had been broke down. Kyle's coworkers were swapping childhood stories and quoting movie lines. A karaoke game even got started with Disney lyrics downloaded from the internet. Kyle couldn't stop grinning the entire night. A youthful spirit had entered the office, and he was definitely going to enjoy it.
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Three words that describe their personality: Shy, private, clever
What this person is looking for/gets in the store, be as detailed as you like: A gray fox plush.
Still, Renard had work to do so he pushed the plush to the back of his mind. It wasn't until the next morning as he was getting dressed that he considered it again. Feeling slightly guilty, he gave it a quick hug before running off on the days errands. Was it him, or did the fox seem bigger than before?
That night, he accidentally spilled some soda on his desk, splashing the toy but thankfully not his computer. Renard tossed the plush into the laundry slated for the upcoming weekend. Two days and one laundry cycle later, Renard was folding and putting away his fresh clothes when an odd noise drew his attention. Something was... struggling? From inside the laundry basket?
Confused, Renard dug around until his hand grasped something squirming. He pulled it out and was surprised to see his fox plush emerge. Only it looked decidedly different. The toy had grown to a bit over two feet tall and its fabric had lightened considerably in shade. There were also three... growths on its head that looked vaguely like antennae.
Suddenly, the plush started squirming again. With a cry of surprise Renard dropped it. There was a large *KAPOOF* as thick white smoke exploded around the toy.
"Finally!" Yipped a new voice. "Took long enough for that blasted trick to wear off! I am going to SO get back at Donnie for this!"
As the smoke cleared, Renard gaped at the figure now rummaging through his laundry bin. It was a gray fox, but coloured like a cartoon and with a hairstyle that looked like a poor attempt at cheesy anime hair.
"Aha!" The fox exclaimed. It pulled out a black cape from the laundry bin. He fastened it around his neck before turning his attention to the confused human. "There, much better. Now then, you, got a pen and paper lying around? I got some revenge to plan."
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Personality: Shy, quirky, nervous
Aeryn is searching for a costume set, with a sort of mythical sort of feel, like a Kokiri cap from the Legend of Zelda, or a wizardly staff of some sort, or possibly a set of angelic wings.
Age 25
Gender Male
Three words that describe their personality Smart, Caring, Loyal
What this person is looking for/gets in the store, be as detailed as you like:
He is looking for what looks like a future space soldier outfit, he already has a us flag patch he can use for the costume. He plans on using this to show that at a costume contest with the theme of "The Future" he wishes to create a Costume to show that Man kind survived into the future with prosperity and that the United States will have weathered the storm and remain the bastion of freedom it stands for now.
William had come from a military family. His parents had served, his grandparents had served, even his brother had served. Only William couldn’t. He would’ve enlisted right after high school if it weren’t for a congenital heart defect. He believed in the USA and in what it stood for, but he wasn’t a blind follower. William was willing to admit that the American government could make mistakes, but that didn’t stop him from having faith in the country’s ideals. When he was invited to this costume party and told that the theme was ‘The Future’, William knew what he wanted. He’d make a costume that showed his belief that America’s position as a bastion of freedom would persist despite the trials of time.
It wasn’t until after passing aside several Halo and Starcraft marine rip-offs that he found what he was looking for. William grabbed the costume and ran into the dressing room to try it on. The other costumes William had rejected simply tried too hard. They were littered with gadgets and flashy effects no genuine soldier would be caught dead with. This costume on the other hand... it was a set of army fatigues with a deep gray camouflage pattern. A dial on one of the cuffs slowly adjusted the hue as William spun it, adapting to any environment. The material was light but tough and felt similar to Kevlar. William imagined it could stop a small caliber bullet or knife. Overall, it was a simple, advanced, and streamlined design that he could easily see being produced if the technology developed enough to make it a real thing and not just a costume piece.
William tried on the outfit and was pleased that it fit. Using some tape he’d brought with, he stuck the American flag patch onto a bare spot on the shoulder and looked at the effect in the mirror. He liked what he saw.
“Sergeant William reporting, sir!” he said as he saluted the reflection. His heart swelled with pride as he saw that he looked like a real soldier, fit for the future and defending the country he held dear. William stood firm and tall as ideas of duty and dedication filled his head. He didn’t even notice when the patch sewed itself into the jacket, or when his body stiffened and hardened.
The recruitment centre in the mall opened on November 2nd. From the first day, Sgt. William stood in the window, a look of firm conviction on his sculpted visage. No one remembered where the name had come from. Most assumed it was related to whoever had donated such a fine piece. William’s vigil continued for years as every man who enlisted at the centre passed under his watchful gaze. Some stared back, drawing inspiration from his expression, or maybe it was the unseen glint of his eyes that others swore was there. It wasn’t until decades later, when the inspired fatigues the statue wore had become reality, that a bureaucrat discovered an interesting statistic: of the countless men and women who had enlisted at the mall’s recruitment centre, not a single one had died in battle. To those actually working at the centre, this wasn’t a big surprise. Why would it be, they’d ask as they gestured to William, when they had the ol’ sergeant watching out for them?
Age: 22
Male
Playful, friendly, mischievous
He is window shopping, taking a look on everything the store has to help him think about new characters and accessories; also, to come up with brand new characters combining many of the costumes' details.
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Tactiturn, Loner, Playful
Nathan is looking for a mask where he can pretend to be someone else.
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Quirky, Unstable, Cheerful
He is looking for something cute/funny to cheer up a friend on Halloween
Age: 10 (Twins)
Gender: Male
Active, Competative, Impulsive
Costume: Something they can wear together.
I hope you don't mind two in one, but I thought I'd try going for something different.
Name: Deshaun
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Three words that describe their personality: helpful, lawful, good/light (no evil/darkens in his hart)
What this person is looking for/gets in the store, be as detailed as you like:
Lizard costume, medium size (around 2 meters wing span) dragon wings , fantasy/medieval advancer costume with a bow and sword, a fantasy travelers bag and a small money bag with fake gold,silver and copper coins
Name: Chance
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Three words that describe their personality: loyal, little cocky, intelligent
What this person is looking for/gets in the store, be as detailed as you like:
Non antro (not human like) Raptor costume, large size (around 4-5 meter wing span) dragon wings and saddle
Two friends/colleagues go shopping after a older friend/colleague say after a rpg session: "there are no a diachronic dragon rider" to prof this friend/colleague wrong.