Your character is stuck on an island with what...?


#1

Your character is stuck on an island with what…

HERE’S THE DEAL…

This is a game my family and I play every so often, plus, similar games exist here on Wattpad. I thought I’d share it, as it can be a really good way to get inside your characters’ heads. All ages are welcome, but you must follow the rules to play. Continue -->

WHAT’S GONNA HAPPEN…

Your character it trapped–wait for it… On an island. He or she can choose to live on the island, escape the island, or die on the island. It’s all a matter of character—pun totally intended. Cheesy, I know.

I will leave a new post every so often, and in this post, a new island. The terrain, weather patterns, inhabitants, and what is left on the island will change every time a new island is posted. You may only have one scenario, and it must be written as a story, not just what they would do. Write it in a way that is natural to the character’s mindset and usual setting, only take them out and plop them on a deserted island. Fun!

RULES…

  1. You can’t write an ending. You heard me! Don’t tell us how it’s gonna go. I will pick the winner after each deadline is up and tell you who will live or die based on their plans.

  2. Keep it clean. Children frequent this site, too, you know. Keep the swearing down, no profanity wars. No gruesome murder scenes. And absolutely nothing passed a true love’s goodbye forever kiss.

  3. Keep it civil. No fighting. Your misbehavior will not be tolerated.

  4. Keep it on topic, please. Creating too much other chatter will make it hard for others to keep track of the actual game. Feel free to ask questions or clarify things if needed, and comment with others about their strategies.

  5. No role playing and having characters interact. You’re on separate islands people! There will be no communication, at all, ever.

  6. No two-timing. You get one answer per island. If you post another, you will be disqualified.

READ THE RULES? If you haven’t, you should. Type (Rules Rock!) before your scenario if you have. Thank you, and without further ado.

YOUR ISLAND

YOUR CHARACTER, INSERT NAME, IS THE ONLY SURVIVOR OF A SHIPWRECK ON AN UNINHABITED, MOUNTAINOUS ISLAND. THE ONLY TREES HERE ARE DAMP, HOLLOW LOGS WASHED UP ON THE BEACH. HE OR SHE IS NOT BADLY INJURED OR ILL. HOWEVER, HE DID NOT RECOVER ANY FOOD AFTER THE SHIPWRECK. HIS MEAL CHOICES, OF WHICH HE MUST HUNT OR CATCH, ARE SEAGULLS AND THE TINY CRUSTACEANS LIVING ON THE ROCKY BEACH. THERE IS NO SOIL OR SHELTERS, IT IS ONLY SHIFTING HILLS OF ROCKS. THERE ARE ALSO FREQUENT AND VIOLENT THUNDERSTORMS. WHAT YOUR CHARACTER HAS WITH HIM IS A SWISS ARMY KNIFE, A LIFE VEST, A FLINT AND STEEL, AND A DAMP BED SHEET. WHAT WILL HE DO?

Deadline: Sunday, January 6, 2019


#2

(Rules Rock!)

Well, either my name’s not Sethral Cort-Lyre, or this is the latest in the string of jokes this friggin’ universe seems to enjoy playing on me. This is the sixth time this moon I’ve gotten the ‘Oh, she’s the best one to survive this’ treatment, and I’ll be honest with you, the flattery is starting to wear thin.

I’m on a beach—don’t ask—with a wet rag of a blanket tangled around my feet, sand attempting to invade my facial orifices, and a pang in one wing that probably means I won’t be flying anywhere for a while. Great. And my bag’s gone, though thankfully my knife and flint seem to have kept residence in my pocket, and the aggressively orange life vest I got thrown in the water with is still wrapped around me like an overenthusiastic hug. There’s a wet log most places I look, a rock pile trying to be a mountain behind me, and some tiny crabby thing attempting to pinch my finger for invading its little crabby personal space.

Really? If you’re going to throw me on an island, at least make it a proper desert or something. I’ve survived worse on at least four landscapes at home.

There’s instability in the air and I may not know oceanic clouds very well, but it definitely looks like raining is a favourite pastime of these ones. There’s my water, I suppose, and the ‘mountain’ looks eroded enough to have lots of reservoirs. Thank Shelha, because if this salty residue pasted all over me gets any drier, I swear I will scratch my skin off.

I find a decently sized pool to wash in and another to drink from. There are no plants or soil to speak of, but at least it means the water’s clear. I shed the life vest. This eyesore of a colour has got to be good for something. It’s not hard to find a peak of stone that would be visible from both air and sea. The vest squeaks in protest as I wrap it around the stone and anchor it with more of them. Any person with half a pair of binoculars should be able to see it here.

That’ll have to do for a marker until I can wrangle a fire out of something, and it looks like the weather isn’t going to let me do that anytime soon. I go back to the beach and drag a few logs up a slope to a rocky overhang. My knife is long enough to billet them into smaller pieces, which I lay out to dry. More logs soon give me some walls in case it starts raining horizontally. The wind is already picking up.

The storm passes as quickly as most tropical-ish storms do. Now I’m hungry, and I’m willing to bet that the little crabby things are edible. They even come seasoned. I’ve never seen salty water before, but it does have its uses.

The crabby things are wary until you threaten their burrows, at which time they attack you like they have the gold crowns of fate on their side. I bash a couple with a rock, shell them and lay them out to dry. The gulls seem bent on stealing my snack, so I retrieve the sheet from my new cabin. It’s even still damp. In a couple of twists I have a satisfactory rat tail. The gulls make sounds like aggravated squeaky toys when it whips them, which is the most entertaining thing I’ve done all day. I wish Ryatzi were here. The last time we got in a rat-tail fight, it lasted two hours and made us both laugh so hard I nearly busted a rib. Nobody mentions in books how boring deserted islands are.

My wood dries by evening, so the next morning I carry it up to my vest-flag and make it a rock ring to keep off the wind. The driftwood kindling catches the flint sparks and flares into a tidy little blaze. I un-tidy it with a piece of wet wood. Soon the smoke is billowing up like a stormcloud itself. I heap more wood near it to dry and give the sky a warning glare, like that does anything. I would like at least a couple hours of signalling before it rains again.

And now… we wait.


#4

Rules Rock!

Character: Narcissus Dieudonne

“Why the heck am I here?”

I had been awake for only a few minutes, but I was annoyed already. Not really scared, just all out mad. Where was Aster? Rose? Heck, I hope they’re alright.

I looked down at myself to see a life vest. Directly across from me was a damp bed sheet. Frowning, I reached into my pocket to find a wet flint and steel and my knife. That was one good thing.

I pulled out the flint and steel. “How the heck to I use this? And why is it my pocket in the first place? Did someone set me up?”

Looking towards the sky, I saw oncoming thunderclouds. The day just gets better and better, doesn’t it, I thought. Taking a deep breath, I stood up. No injuries? Lucky me.

I scanned my surroundings. No trees, just mountains, huh? And…empty, hollow, dripping wet logs. A fire can be started with those. But right now, I need some way of making a shelter. As for the damp bed sheet…

Jumping up, I walked over and lugged some of the logs over, far away from the ocean. If it was going to rain, I didn’t want it to flood anything. I picked three decently big logs and arranged it into a teepee-like shape, using some smaller rocks to secure them on the rocky and unstable terrain. Then I pulled out the drawstring* on my sweatshirt and tied the logs together at the top. Lastly, I pulled the damp sheet over all the wood and used some rocks to keep it from flying away. This shelter should work for the time being. It was the only thing I could think of right now anyway.

After this, I got to work using the knife to break the logs into smaller pieces. I needed as much wood as I could get on this treeless island. There doesn’t seem to be any soil later, so no grass to use as kindling.

Food could wait. My stomach churned from the thought of waking up in a strange place, so I doubt I could keep it down now anyway. I had no idea how I was going to catch my food, but I didn’t think it mattered right now. I could think of a way later. As for water, there seems to be plenty of rain to supply for it. The question is how to catch it.

As for the life vest…I read online that using direct heat to cool it will decrease its buoyancy, and that buoyancy might be useful somehow. I also read that it didn’t matter if the life vest is soaked, it should still keep you warm. Well, I’m willing to gamble on it. Hope I don’t get hypothermia.

I brought some wood into my makeshift shelter to keep dry. At least, I hope the shelter protects me from the rain. If not, I still have the life vest. After the storm passes, I’ll make a signal using fire. An aircraft or ship should pass by eventually, right?

Right?

*Uh, I hope the drawstring isn’t cheating. It isn’t, is it? I mean, it was on the character.


#5

bump


#6

My apologies! Caught a cold, forgot all about the deadline. I will decide who survives–if anyone–within the next day. :wink:


#7

Okie! I’ll be waiting!


#8

@gracelynpine Just a friendly little reminder! :slightly_smiling_face:


#9

Now, we go live to the unruly survivors on their mountainous islands, where we hope they’ll survive.

@SmokeAndOranges Your character, Sethral Cort-Lyre, has landed on a rocky, uninhabited island with only a swiss army knife, a life vest, a flint and steel, and a damp bedsheet. How good was his strategy?

Detailed Score:

Writing itself- (Anything from author style to writing clarity to grammar to word usage and more, possible 18 Points) Your score: 18

Plot itself- (Anything from originality and creativity to deductions for non-workability and more, possible 12 Points) Your score: 9

Goods Usage- (How you used your goods and possibilities missed, possible 10 Points) Your score: 8

Character Him/Herself- (Anything from overall behavior toward situation to likeability to degree of rounding and more, possible 9 Points) Your score: 8

Magic/Abilities- (Interest factor to too good to be true, possible 5 Points) Your score: 2

Total Score: 45/54 Points +1 Point for Password

@Eternal_Foxglove Your character, Narcissus Dieudonne, was “placed” on an identical island with the same materials. How good was his strategy?

Detailed Score:

Writing Itself- 10 Points

Plot Itself- 8

Goods Usage- 3

Character Him/Herself- 4

Magic Abilities- 0

Total Score: 25/54 +1 Point for Password

RESULTS:

@SmokeAndOranges Your character made good use of his goods, those with him and those scavenged. He was resourceful, didn’t miss many opportunities, and had a push-through-it attitude. As well, his past was very intriguing. Thanks to collecting food and preparing shelter as soon as possible, he was able to prevent himself from growing weak and or ill. To his surprise, a small plane spotted the life vest and called for help. RESCUED.

@Eternal_Foxglove Your character suffered a head injury in the shipwreck, hence not being able to remember that the knife and other objects were with him all along. As a side-effect, stomach pains and nausea persisted. Although he was resourceful, he missed opportunities to gather food before the approaching storm. The shelter was strong, but the sheet soaked through after multiple days. The wood was kept dry so a fire could be built, however, it ran out after long. Narcissus came down with a nasty case of pneumonia. RESCUERS ARRIVED TO FIND RECENTLY DECEASED HUMAN REMAINS, PICKED APART BY GULLS AND CRABS.

Congratulations, @SmokeAndOranges!
Next island will appear soon…


#10

Uhm…head injuries.

Yup, they can ruin anyone’s day.


#11

It was a good try though!


#12

A New Island Has Appeared…


WELCOME SURVIVORS! YOU MAY BE WONDERING WHERE YOU ARE AND HOW YOU GOT HERE. BOTH GOOD QUESTIONS. FIRST AND FOREMOST, YOU’VE JUST FALLEN OUT OF THE SKY BY WAY OF AIRPLANE. THE PILOT WAS KILLED IN THE CRASH AND THE PLANE SITS ON THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN AS WE SPEAK, SO THERE WILL BE NO SCAVENGING FROM IT.

THE GOOD NEWS IS, YOU’RE ALIVE, AND UNHURT FOR NOW.

AS WELL, YOU DID MANAGE TO HOLD ONTO YOUR PARACHUTE AND A SMALL DUFFEL BAG ON THE WAY DOWN. AS A RESULT, YOU HAVE A USED PARACHUTE, A BLACK DUFFEL BAG, ENOUGH WATER FOR THE DAY, A MACHETE, AND A GUIDEBOOK TO COOKING POISONOUS SNAKES. THE ENRVIROMENT IN WHICH YOU’VE LANDED IS A DESERT ISLAND WITH VARIOUS CACTI, POISONOUS SNAKES AND SCORPIANS, A SLIGHTLY TAME ARMADILLO, AND SALT WATER OCEAN. THE SUN WILL HEAT UP SOON AND YOU HAVE NO FOOD WITH YOU. THERE ARE NO NATURAL SHELTERS.

WHAT WILL YOU DO TO SURVIVE?


DEADLINE IS FEBRUARY 2


IF TWO SURVIVORS STEP UP, A NEW TWIST WILL OCCUR FOR FUTURE SURVIVORS.


#13

Wait, so I can still do this island, right?


#14

Yep. One shot per island.


#15

Okay, I’ll write it when I get the chance.

In third person this time because obviously I can’t do first XD


#16

It just takes a little work. I struggle with it all the time.


#17

(Rules still rock?)

Character: Silversand, Sethral’s sister :slight_smile:

(Also, no head injuries here :joy: She’s just a bit ADD…)

“Okay, deep breaths. Breathe! Breathe. You did not just crash in a plane and almost end up at the bottom of the ocean okay maybe you did, but you’re okay. Don’t think about the pilot.”
Deep breath
“Okay. Whipper was in the other plane. He’s fine, so everything is going to be fine.”

I look around. Oh, did I manage to pull my parachute? I thought I was going to die. I guess Sethral was right about me having reflexes. Well, I guess Sethral is usually right, and if she’s not, Whipper is. I wish Whipper was here.

No, I don’t wish Whipper was here; he would overheat, and there was only one parachute. Wait, he would land safely anyways. He’s a Forester. I guess I didn’t need the parachute either, I suppose. So much for reflexes.

I squint at the horizon. The sun is just peeking above the water, but Phoenix says that it’s deadly by the time it goes a paw-length higher, and he’s from the desert. What’s that?

I scramble over to the moving rock, forget I’m still wearing a parachute, and lurch forwards with a snap as a cactus snags on it and breaks off at the base. The rock waddles hastily into the ground. It burrows! I whip my hand out of the way as a small scorpion waves its stinger at me. Maybe my reflexes are helpful after all.

The sand is runny on top but firmer below. I decide to copy the burrowing rock and dig a deep hole, then realize I forgot to leave a roof. I lay the parachute over the hole. That works. I pin down its sides with sand and then cover the middle with a thin layer of sand too. The sand-shelter is nice and cool as I crawl inside. Phoenix says water is more important than food in the desert. I look down. When did I pick up my water bottle? Wasn’t it in my duffel bag?

I poke my head out of my shelter. My duffel bag is lying in the sand not far away. Did it fall out of the plane too? I dash out, grab it, and dash underground again. I might have reflexively pulled out my water bottle, but the rest of the duffel bag is empty. Phooey. I scrape some sand from the floor and pack it into the bag, then stick the water bottle in too. That should keep the water cool so it doesn’t evaporate.

It’s evening when I wake up again. Turns out napping is easy when it’s so hot out. I wonder why Phoenix doesn’t nap more. I take a sip of water—carefully; I have to ration it— and crawl outside. The sand is cooling rapidly as the sun goes down. At this rate, it will be too cold for snakes really soon. I shimmy over to the cactus I broke this morning. Small bugs of different kinds are congregating on its broken end. There are no dead ones in the sand, and they can’t all have a resistance to poison. The cactus must not be poisonous. Oh! I’ve seen this before!

I run back to my sand-shelter, almost wiping out in the loose sand. The book of desert recipes I found in my duffel bag side-pocket on my second check is still where I left it. I flip to the ‘Viper Soup’ recipe and scan over the picture. The edge of the bowl there is decorated with a piece of cactus; the kind the book said to use for the soup broth. A non-poisonous cactus. I hold the picture up against the real cactus in front of me. They’re the same.

I empty out the sand in my duffel bag and shuffle the bag over the broken cactus. The fabric is thick enough that the spines don’t puncture it. I roll it until I have a neatly bagged cactus, and zip up the zipper so the bugs don’t get inside. Soon I’m back in my shelter. The cactus juice tastes green and nasty, but it’s water. The cactus must filter the sea water from way down in the sand.

I guess I should probably set up some signal outside? I crawl outside again. There’s no firewood to make a smoke signal. I unfold the edges of the parachute a bit farther, so their colour shows without compromising my shelter roof. A piece of the parachute is ripped where it caught the cactus. I tear it off and tie it carefully around the nearest, tallest cactus like a red flag. I almost slip in the sand again as I tippy-toe up to tie the last knot. Hey, this sand is like snow! I can do what Whipper and I did to Sethral once…

I trot to the biggest open sand-area and stomp and shuffle, giggling in spite of myself. The first message is funny, but there’s no Sethral flying overhead to see it. I sigh and trudge over it again, leaving ‘SOS’ instead. I contemplate that for a minute, then shuffle a smaller version of the message for Sethral underneath it. She’ll probably be on the rescue team, and she’ll want to know as soon as possible that it’s me and that I’m alive. Whipper is probably going frantic right now.

I take another sip of water, check my cactus again, and go to bed. I should probably stay in here from now on. I have a sun shelter, a big green water bottle (that tastes nasty, but at least it’s not poisonous), a small silver water bottle, and a signal that Ryatzi at least could see from a mile away. Probably two miles. I just have to conserve my water and energy until someone finds me.

I roll over in the cool sand, making a mental note to hug Phoenix as soon as I’m found. Given that I’m alive and safe, he’ll probably even let me.


#18

My gosh I forgot about this again. I’ll probably do this tonight. (Procrastination)


#19

You know, procrastination is a choice. :wink:


#20

Well, it’s not due until February. I still have time.

A few weeks later

Oh no.


#21

Forever Forgotten on Isle of the Chains

Maria POV

This is the last night. I’ve been on this island for two whole years. I’ve been told that I’m going to die tonight. I thought my last appearance better be good.

Maria Lana Uzbecks will not be forgotten. I wrap my hair into a crown braid as the beautiful, reddish brown locks glisten in the moonlight. My skin is a beautiful caramel color with freckles near my nose. My eyes are the color of glistening, bluish green jewels in a sparkling cave. I slip on my white, flowy dress. The belt is glittering golden sparkles just like the top of the V-neck.

I run along the sandy and rocky beaches. I see the waves overlapping each other, I hear the howling of my beautiful wolves, and I smell the scent of nature, the pine, cinnamon bark, and flowers. I’m going to miss this place. If only, I could be here forever.

I look into the ocean. I see my reflection at first. My skin starts to turn paler and paler, my eyes turn grayer and grayer, and my hair turns black. I touch the water as I get pulled under the surface of the rippling currents. I hold my breath, but there’s no need to. The water turns into a hurricane as it lifts me back to shore. I look at my reflection like a mirror. I look like the same girl I’ve known for fifteen years.

I turn around to see a lifeless body. I look down at myself, and I see a misty appearance. I’m dead. I look at the body. My eyes are black and soulless, my hair soaked from the water, and my skin is a few shades lighter. My corpse is different yet beautiful. That’s how I wanted it.

I try to touch it, but my hand goes right through it. The wolves come and lay right down next to my dead body. I try to pet one, but they don’t see me.

“Maria, it is time,” says a booming voice.

“Time for what?” I ask the voice.

In a flash, my misty hands are chained with misty metal links covered in rust. The chains look hundreds of years old.

The island turns black as my vision blurs.

The island appears again, but I see other ghosts like me. My chains come off. I guess I have a whole afterlife to live.

What’s the worst that can happen?


Julie POV

My sister washed ashore today. Her lifeless body. I closed her eyelids. She looked beautiful and sad. I’ve been sulking for a long time. I’ve been searching for my sister for a long time. After five years, I’ve found her, but she’s dead. If only, she could’ve stayed with me longer. I must be the most horrible detective in the world.

Tonight, I’ve been told I’m going to die. I’m on the island I’ve been searching for five years. The Isle of Chains is what I’ve read in the history books.

“Julie, it is time,” says a booming voice.

“Time for what?” I ask the voice.

I transfer into a free, up-lifting misty figure. I see my lifeless body. I see the last glimpse of brown locks, olive skin, and green eyes. I see the Isle of Chains, but it’s different from before.

“Sis, welcome home,” I hear the distinct voice of my little sister.

What’s the worst that can happen with my sister by my side?