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Archive for the ‘Recapper Roleplay’ Category


Bandits, bards, and blind fortune tellers piss me off.

Dear Diary,

Well, it’s been quite a while since my last entry — ten years, to be precise. Oops!  I guess I just got sidetracked, or spent a whole lot of time procrastinating.  Not that a descendant of the fabled recappers would ever do such a thing, you understand.

The strange thing is, I don’t actually remember anything that happened during that time — it’s all a black blur.  Almost like I never experienced the entire decade at all!  Weird, huh?  Anyway, today was apparently my birthday, and as soon as I awoke in the…uh…”cozy” caravan the gypsies had been so kind to provide me, Theresa told me to come visit her on the wooden bridge overlooking the camp.  With my trusty pooch (who I’d affectionately nicknamed “Fucker”) at my side, I made my way through the camp and met with Theresa, who hadn’t changed her clothes in the ten years since we’d first met.  Those robes must have things living in them by now. 

Theresa told me that the day had finally come for me to set out on my quest of vengeance.  She also advised me to check out the chest in front of my caravan, into which she’d deposited a few items that “might prove useful”. These so-called “useful items” turned out to be a rusty sword and crossbow, a placebo health potion (no, really, it actually had “placebo” written on it!!) and a spade.  Thanks, Theresa!  I may not be able to cut off Lucien’s head with the rusty sword, but I can probably infect him with tetanus instead!

The final gift Theresa had for me was a mysterious emblem she called the Guild Seal.  She said all the Heroes used to carry them, like that’s of any use to me.  Maybe they’re the heroic equivalent of a member’s card?  She also said something about being able to speak to me through it.  Oh hell no, I felt like telling her.  Sure, I don’t mind you getting in touch to tell me how to solve a difficult puzzle or to tip me off about a hidden item somewhere, but I seriously DO NOT want your ancient voice chiming in to nag me about something when I’m at a critical moment with some hot young adventurer I met on the road. Still, it could be worse — I could have an annoying fairy flying around my head and pointing out the blindingly-obvious, for instance.  How irritating would that be?


Posted by Ben at 17:34


And so, our story begins…

Dear Diary,

First, I apologize for that pretentious title – I heard it in a strange dream I had this morning. The woman who said it sounded exactly like Madam Hooch from the Harry Potter movies and the Lady Cassandra from Doctor Who.  Weird. She also asked me if I was male or female, which was even weirder since I’m 100%, undoubtedly male.  I mean, I’m still a boy, but I’m pretty sure there are no girl parts here.

Anyway, I thought the title was quite appropriate, given that this is my first ever diary entry and all. Oh, my dear diary, you simply would not believe how shitty today was.  Well, every day is pretty much a giant heap of shit for me, since I’m an orphan living on the streets, but today just took the cake.  Where to begin?  Hmm, I guess a fucking bird SHITTING ON MY HEAD is a good place to start. Seriously — there I was, hanging out with my big sister in the downtrodden, snow-covered slum we call home, when a robin suddenly decided my forehead was the perfect place to empty its bowels.  As I regurgitated the crust of moldy bread I’d eaten for breakfast, Rose tried to tell me that having a bird crap on you is a sign of luck, like finding a four-leaf clover.  Somehow I doubt she’d be saying that if she’d been on the receiving end of the aforementioned piece of crap.  And, hard as it is to believe, the day only got worse from there.

While I tried to scrape the worst of the bird muck out of my hair, Rose stared at the majestic Castle Fairfax in the distance and started to talk longingly about what it would be like to live there, as she always did when we were cold and hungry.  That is to say, all the fucking time.  She tried to tell me all about the castle’s owner, Lord Lucien, and how lonely he must be since his wife and kid died.  Like I care about any of that, I wanted to say.  He’s not the one out here freezing his balls off while scrabbling around in the dirt for food, begging for gold and fending off drunken tramps.  I’m sure he’ll understand if I don’t send him a freaking sympathy card.

Now, Rose and I have had to grow up more quickly than most — living in poverty kind of does that to you.  This is the only life I can remember, and our parents died so long ago that I can’t even remember them (not that they were anyone important anyway).  The reason I’m telling you all this is so you understand why the two of us were so eager to listen to the weird old guy who claimed to be peddling “magical” items from his run-down trader’s caravan in the square.  Actually, Rose told me he was bullshitting us at first, but I knew she secretly wanted to believe, too — after all, magic has been gone from Albion for hundreds of years.  Our curiosity only increased when a mysterious old lady in a hooded robe appeared out of nowhere and declared “We live in grim times indeed if the young are too world-weary to believe in magic”.  Strangely, her voice was the one I’d heard in my dream, but I dismissed it as a coincidence.  My first mistake of the day.


Posted by Ben at 17:26


Dungeons and Dillholes

After eight hours of glorious, free, non-rapeful sleep, I left the pirate ship and headed out into the fine, fish-smelling air of the waterfront. I had a shop to visit, and a homosexual Wood Elf’s day to ruin. I decided to wear some of my graverobbed clothes for the occasion.

This time, I tried to use tact when I informed him that his entire inventory had been stolen off corpses. I shouldn’t have even bothered, since the little asshat jumped right down my throat. He accused me of making shit up so that Jensine could get rid of him. This pissed me off. I had just escaped some creepy fuck’s basement of death, and now I was getting verbally reamed by a guy who wore his sideburns in pigtails? I don’t think so.

I practically threw the incriminating book at him, and after he took a look at it, he quickly changed his tune. According to Thoronir, he had no idea where his goods came from. I guess the smell of rotting flesh didn’t tip him off. Also, considering the items in Thoronir’s shop inventory, people are buried with some weird shit. I mean, fruits and vegetables? Gross.

As soon as Thoronir started saying stuff like an apology wasn’t enough to make up for this horrible crime against the dead he had perpetuated, and he wished he could find some way to make it up to everyone, I quickly cut him off at the pass. If he was desperate enough to offer favors to a woman, then he must really be in a bad place. I decided to give him a task much more suited for his particular talents: help me take down Agarmir. Thoronir perked right back up when I said this.

After promising to never, ever, EVER see Agarmir again (not sure I believed that), he told me that Agarmir had put him off earlier, saying he had urgent business elsewhere. Thoronir took this literally, and with the information I had just given him, he decided that Agarmir must be plundering corpses at this very moment. In the middle of the morning in broad daylight. He would have to be seriously dumb. But hey, the guy had blood and other horrible evidence in his basement and only an Average level lock on the door, so we’re not talking about genius level thinking here.

I wasn’t going to risk confronting an unstable freak while wearing my fine clothing of the dead, so I changed into my formidable leather armor for the occasion. To the graveyard!


Posted by Jeanne at 17:01


Recapper Roleplay Returns! (soon)

Yeah, yeah, it’s been a while since the last Recapper Roleplay, even though I have a bunch of entries already written. Here’s the thing — I’ve been recapping from the PS3 version of Oblivion, which involves me setting up a camera on a tripod. That’s just too much damn work, I decided. I got the PC version of Oblivion in the meantime, but there’s no way to transfer a saved game from one system to the other. What a dilemma. Finally, this last week, I recreated my Jeanne Recapiere character on the PC and retraced all the steps from the entries I’d written. This was the most thrilling thing I’ve ever done. But oh, how much easier to take screenshots! Plus, I have some sweet-ass plug-ins for the PC version!

Since it’s pretty impossible to recreate character faces exactly — at least for someone as lazy as me — Jeanne Recapiere 2.0 is not identical to her PS3 counterpart. So now I get to replace any earlier screenshots so that Jeanne won’t have to face accusations of plastic surgery.

I have both Tales of Symphonia Part 4 and another Recapper Roleplay entry coming soon. Stay tuned!

Posted by Jeanne at 20:49


Bones in the Basement

I only got four hours of sleep. I need at least eight, but who has time for that? I had everyone else’s problems to solve, diary. When I left the inn, it was fucking raining again. It rained for two hours before it tapered off, and guess who was outside that entire time? At least I was finally clean — there aren’t any baths around here. Or bathrooms for that matter. It’s highly inconvenient.

After the storm cleared, it turned into a beautiful sunny day, and I spent it doing my favorite activity. No, not that. I’m a recapper, but I have other interests besides whacking off, you know. Nope, I once again spent time wandering aimlessly around the countryside, collecting ingredients. Hey, who needs a job when you can sell your drugs homemade potions? Somehow I don’t think the Recapiere name is going to be restored to its former glory anytime soon.

But diary, I know you’re not interested in my collection of herbs and shrooms — you want to know all about my adventures with the Gay Fox and my spy mission with Agarmir. Since it wasn’t anywhere near midnight, and Armand Christophe was most likely asleep, the lucky bastard, I decided to check in on Agarmir instead. It turns out he hadn’t left his house yet — what a lazy piece of shit. Of course, I would probably be just as lazy if I had a freaking house. I guess I can’t really judge.

The gayest guy I've seen today.

While killing time, I sold some of my mind-altering potions to Jensine and gave her an update on my progress. She said that her “sources” told her that no information exists on Agarmir — thus, he must be using a false name. This was the first time I even mentioned Agarmir to her — how did she know about him in advance? Did she have more than one person on this mission? I felt just a bit insulted. Yeah, I’m not exactly speedy, but it’s not like I’m totally ignoring the task either. Not like that unimportant little matter of the Amulet of Kings.


Posted by Jeanne at 21:24

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