New game

toto1958

I'm trying to think of a new game to play, or else trying to juggle the minds of people to try to think of a new game.

Heres an idea I have

Something did come to mind, which I'm not sure if it would do good or bad. It is similar to word association, which I'm not hung up on, except that you do it with authors. But its a little deeper than that. You name something of them, their birth date, a few words of something they wrote, the title of something they wrote.

I'm also throwing that out in case it gives someone an idea or a different idea.

Only trying to be creative, no matter how good or bad it is.

I tried that association thing, it was OK, until it fell on its face after 100 posts. I was pretty sure it would last till 150. oops It didn't.

Does anyone have any ideas to build upon what I wrote or else create something new?
 

mammamaia

how 'bout...

here's a nifty one i saw on another board long ago:

you start out with 8 or 9 random words... the next person has to use those in a paragraph or a poem [depending on who sets the rules]... and after posting it, they then list 9 new words for the next gamer, and so on... in case you want to try it, i'll start it off and demonstrate how it works by 'going first'... i'll show ya both the paragraph version and the poem one:

new
driving
cherry
books
glass
always
horrible
worthy
horn

The new car was driving me nuts. Sure, it was a 'cherry' but despite how good it looked, on the books, it was going to be a definite tax loss. Regardless, I needed it to complete my image. The glass ceiling will always be there, horrible as it is for a worthy individual 'comme moi' to admit... not that I'm one to blow my own horn!

like
spike
able
cable
spoil
toil
devious
previous

playing silly word games is like
impaling myself on a spike
since i'm so eminently able
to write for print, screen or cable

but, far be it for me to spoil
the fun of those who toil
with wordsmithery this devious
as toto called for in post previous

aren't you sorry you asked, kid?:ack

love and hugs, m

here's your assignment, should you choose to take it:

what's it gonna be?...paragraph?

bloom
luggage
waterfall
ugly
shod
worry
birthday
attitude
obsequious

or poem?

how
sow
fortune
importune
blacken
slacken
rug
smug

whatever you choose [if you don't ignore this whole mess] will have to be continued by the following posters [poem or paragraph]... of course, if you're really into this stuff, you can do both in two separate threads:wha
 

toto1958

Re: how 'bout...

As I stood there with my shod looking luggage, which actually was ugly looking, as I was looking out the widow and could see the waterfall. I could fell the fear of flying bloom in me again as it had so many times. Yet is my sisters 50th birthday and I wanted to get back home to celibrate it with her. Even though I was fearful of flying, I still have a good attitude with the whole thing. Normally i would do this but for my sister i can only feel obsequious.


How was that?


Next person

Paragraph:

credulous
show
microscopic
provication
relief
cold
neurotic
infin
doohickey

I don't have anything for poems
 

Betty W01

Re: how 'bout...

how
sow
fortune
importune
blacken
slacken
rug
smug


How smug are they
who sow their lies
to blacken others' reputations,
who (lusting after
good fortune)
try to pull the rug out
from under those
whose success is greater,
and importune the fates
as their grasp
on reality
begins to slacken.

-----------------------------
Next poem, use:

kind
morbid
children
bright
red
sounding
light
steer
oval
 

maestrowork

Re: how 'bout...

credulous
show
microscopic
provication
relief
cold
neurotic
infin
doohickey

(Toto, some of the words are not complete words or they're misspelled)


The credulous Governor Hardy gave a good show. But he buckled under the microscopic scrutiny of the public, which brought about provocation of asthma. The governor's doctor gave him medication for instant relief, but he quickly contracted a cold. The neurotic wife of his asked him to use an infin in a coherent sentence but he failed the test and died. The good doctor stuck a doohickey in his skull and called it a day.
 

maestrowork

Re: how 'bout...

kind
morbid
children
bright
red
sounding
light
steer
oval


It was some kind of morbid curiosity to watch the children run toward the bright red, loud sounding traffic light and signal only to have the motorists steer clear to avoid hitting the oval island where the children were standing.
 

maestrowork

Re: how 'bout...

strap
muscular
gust
asylum
scattered
solemn
groves
crimson
lantern
 

toto1958

Re: how 'bout...

The young lad held onto the strap of the muscular horse, as a gust of wind caused the trees in front of the asylum to bend and sway in the fall wind. The leaves seemed to dance their way in the wind to wards the groves in the distance. He was amazed of how the crimson lantern he was holding seemed to stay lit with all the wind that was stirring.

Paragraph or poem:

green
shrub
riding
voting
trolley
boat
trial
ironic
freedom
 

mammamaia

Re: how 'bout...

a large, green shrub
was Flora's final folly
riding to the voting place
on a yellow trolley,
then onto a ferry boat,
her next trial was ironic,
whoever tossed that shrub her way
was certainly moronic!


otherwise
disguise
tries
dies
plies
incise
stupefies
barflies
eyes

put that in yer pipe 'n smoke it!
 

Betty W01

Re: how 'bout...

otherwise
disguise
tries
dies
plies
incise
stupefies
barflies
eyes

I'm gonna do this one (I'm usually a sucker for a challenge) then I'm stepping out, since I don't like thinking up the word lists anyway.


Thursday Afternoon At Shady Inn


In disingenuous disguise,
an undercover cop plies barflies
with liquor as he tries
to pump their sodden brains
for answers
but all he finds is sorrow banked
behind their beer-glazed eyes
and minds (what there is left)
otherwise engaged
with memories that gnaw
and stupify

A new brain cell dies
with every passing gulp
and drunks incise their shame
with hoarded car keys
into wet-ringed bar tables
next to other names long past

It's just another afternoon at Shady Inn
where lives are being wasted
as pains are medicated
and nothing ever changes
but the date
 

toto1958

Re: how 'bout...

The spy/safecracker knew he had to crack the safe in the bank , otherwise he had to go back to Russian and he knew if that happened what would be in store for him. His disguise is ready and with each now job he tries to be better than he was the last time, but the feels like he dies inside when he doesnt do his best. He plies his trade like a finely skilled surgeon with hisincise instruments. He knows he stupifies both his superiors and the police wit his work, as he smiles thingking about it. but hes first going to have another drink as he swats the barflies away and has enough of looking at the pretty barmaids eyes.


crank
hoot
treble
marksmanship
door
politics
satire
loyal
water

dang Bettey beat me out on this one.

Anyone can use my word list since Betty didn't put one down

Betty :b
 

LiamJackson

Re: how 'bout...

crank
hoot
treble
marksmanship
door
politics
satire
loyal
water

Denise stored her gun inside the security locker and dropped the key in her pocket. Next, she held her identification up to the camera and waited for the jailer to trigger the electronic door. Seconds later, the loudspeaker emitted a shrill whistle, and a metallic-sounding voice told her to “please step through the door, Detective Loudon.”

“Damn it, Mike! Adjust the treble on that thing before you rupture an eardrum out here!”

After a brisk walk through a maze of well-lit corridors she came to the Observation Room. She took a seat in front of the two-way glass and watched passively as another strung-out teenager pounded his head against a concrete wall in an adjacent room. Crank, she thought. The kid’s tweaked out of his gourd. Probably has a tab of acid in him, too.

Denise pulled a copy of the arrest report from her satchel, then opened her notebook and scribbled a few notes on a clean sheet of paper. She was still writing when Phillip Conley stepped inside the room. Denise suppressed a grimace. She despised the man and everything he stood for. His meteoric rise through the ranks was nothing more than a testimony to “good old boy” politics within the department. Of course, that his uncle was Chief of Detectives didn’t hurt. The old man took care of him and in return, Conley was as loyal as a lapdog. Arrogant bastard!

Conley wasted little time stepping on her last nerve. “So, Dee-Dee, whatda’ we got here? Another 51-50? Damn, look at him go! Maybe we should just turn the nutcase loose and practice a little marksmanship. You know, save the taxpayers a few bucks.”

Denise felt her teeth grind at the term “51-50”, an old and derogatory reference to the mentally ill. She swallowed hard and counted to ten before answering. “Yeah, the kid is a real hoot. I’m so glad you were around for the show. Maybe you’ll get to see some gray matter before they EMTs show up with the leather restraints.”

“Hey, lose the attitude, baby doll,” Conley said, smiling crookedly. You know what your problem is? You never learned to play nice with others.”

Denise stood up and walked around the table. “Oh, I’ve got a problem, all right. But it has nothing to do with my social habits. My problem is with you and that fat-assed Boss Hog uncle of yours.”

Conley’s eyebrows knitted together and he glared hotly at Denise. “What did you call Uncle Horace?”

“Boss Hog, you moron! You know, from…oh, never mind. I should have known that the satire would be lost on you! Tell you what, Dick Tracy, you work this case. Or not. I’m out of here!”

Denise picked up her satchel and headed for the door. Conley, his eyes flashing dangerously, moved to intercept her. “I think you owe me an apology!”

“You really don’t want to do this, Phillip,” Denise said.

“Oh, I think I do. You're like a fish out of water around here, baby doll, and it’s time somebody put you in your place. Now, be a good girl and apologize.” In one fluid motion, Denise dropped the satchel, reached, grabbed, and squeezed.

Seconds later, she was met in the hallway by an anxious jailer. “Hey, Detective! Are you okay? I--I thought I heard a scream over the intercom.

Denise smiled warmly and nodded. “No problems, Mike. I was just adjusting Conley’s treble.”

(Is it my turn to provide the words for the next round?)
 

LiamJackson

Re: how 'bout...

foyer
gristle
squat
indigenous
onion
longitutde
slogan
scope
coot



Naw, Betty, I blew the assignement. Should have kept all the words in a single paragraph. I just expanded the story for you, Reph, Ruth and Maia. :grin
 

Yeshanu

Re: how 'bout...

In the foyer of the swank hotel, one cannot hear the uncouth patrons at the 50’s diner down the street chewing the gristle of their pork chops. Nor can one see the squat indigenous woman in the kitchen chopping an onion, wiping tears from her eyes as she does so. One slice, a line of longitutde through the odiferous vegetable, then chop! The knife cuts the two hemispheres in half again. A metaphor about living, a slogan, perhaps, for well-meaning but naive socialites intent on widening the scope of their interference. So thinks the old coot sitting in the foyer of the swank hotel.


More words:

strawberry
lapse
filmy
spirit
ream
calamari
spiderman
pelisse
goblin
 

ChunkyC

Re: how 'bout...

Every time I eat strawberry ice cream, I feel like I'm about to lapse into a coma. A filmy sheen covers my vision, as thought the pelisse of some unearthly spirit has been dragged across my face. I grab a ream of paper and load my printer...I feel a story coming on...but then all I can think of is Spiderman and the Green Goblin.

I should have had the Calamari.

-------------

Oops -- a list:

eggshell
trampoline
carburetor
thong
golf
piano
aardvark
trim
concoction
 

Betty W01

Re: how 'bout...

eggshell
trampoline
carburetor
thong
golf
piano
aardvark
trim
concoction

Like Liam, I'm gonna cheat and make mine a "story" this time....
----------------------------------
edited for possible use
--------------------------------------


Next list ...
run
tarantula
Volvo
crank
sorry
delicious
angel
involved
 

LiamJackson

Re: how 'bout...

ROFL
Well done, Betty! :clap

Welcome to Cheaters-R-Us!
(All for the sake of art, of course.)
 

maestrowork

Re: how 'bout...

Run, lover, you -- tarantula
Run, over by my Volvo
You crank, and I won't be sorry
I'll make delicious pies out of you
And no angel would weep
And no tears would be involved

(Please, I am not giving a new list because I think someone else could really make music with them... I'm just playing with crap here)
 

Betty W01

Re: how 'bout...

Thanks, Liam, I wrote it based on something I heard about that happened to someone I know. What a maroon that guy was!

:ack