#mad libs

[prokopetz]

Proposal for a truly adversarial tabletop RPG:

The numeric values of the traits on your character sheet are pre-filled, if applicable but the actual names of your traits are not: they're left blank, indicating only what part of speech – noun, verb or adjective – should occupy that slot.

The game includes 20–30 different character sheet designs, each of which has a different assortment of open slots, presented in a different order and layout, so what kind of slot is being filled can't be predicted from its part of speech unless you know which sheet someone is holding. The slots on each sheet are numbered.

Character creation begins with each player drawing a random character sheet design; the group then goes around the table taking turns calling out the part(s) of speech of their character sheet's lowest-numbered empty slot. Each other player calls out a word satisfying those criteria, and the active player must choose one of them to write down in that slot.

Attempt to play the resulting characters.

A basic mockup of a character sheet might look like this (though in practice they should be much more needlessly complicated):

Information

Species: (1) ________ [noun] Profession: (2–3) ________ ________ [noun + verb ending in -er] Alignment: (4) ________ [adjective]

Skills

(5) ________ [verb] Rating: 4 (6) ________ [verb] Rating: 3 (7) ________ [verb] Rating: 2 (8) ________ [verb] Rating: 1

Known Spells

(9–10) ________ ________ [verb ending in -ing + noun] (11–12) ________ of ________ [noun + verb ending in -ing] (13–14) ________ ________ [adjective + noun]

(Note that the traits presented here should not be taken as normative, so not all character sheet variants will have slots for "Alignment", or "Known Spells", or even "Skills", and other sheets may have traits not seen here.)

[breannasfluff]

Eldritch Pet: Mad Libs Style

Wild was eerie. He had a new pet! Sure, he had some crunchy patches with the Chain and his aura, but they all liked animals.

“Twilight! I’ve got a molten animal to show you! Look at my new pet!” He gestured to the animal on the end of the lead rope. It was blue, with long red legs. Seventeen toes adorned each foot and crunchy feathers covered the main body. It had a long neck and one burning eye peered down at Twilight. 

The rancher took a small step back. “What….is that, Wild?”

“My new pet! It’s called an ostrich and they live in the Eldin region.”

Twilight majestically loved animals. He did not like this one. Something about the eyes… “Does it have a name?”

Wild tilted his head and a tooth flashed, too sharp. “I was thinking…babybun? Or maybe GALACTICAL BLUDGEON THE MAGNIFICENT, DEATHBRINGER OF THE STARS. What do you think?”

“I think you should name him Dinner.”

Wild was violently malignant and dropped the lead to chase Twilight.

The ostrich watched them go. It plucked a knife from under its wing with its beak. The time for Galactical Bludgeon had come.

~

And with that conclusion I have some exciting news!

The Eldritch Wild series starts posting again today!

[911onabc]

911 Mad Libs - Bobby's Special Day

Yesterday I thought it would be fun to create a little mad libs game and get people to participate so we could all write a story together! This morning I whipped up a little basic story and started asking people for words. The underlined red words are your contributions. Together, this is what we wrote! I titled it....Bobby's Special Day. Enjoy everyone <3

Thanks to everyone who participated! (Both those of you who volunteered and those of you who I slid into the DMs of to get words from by force). Let me know if you're interesting in playing again and maybe we can get more unhinged with it :)

Below the cut I'm tagging everyone who contributed a word!

@buck-coded @boydykewiki @icecreampotluck @monsterrae1 @bahorell @pirrusstuff @compactdiscmp3 @messyhairdiaz @transbuck @musiclily @prince-buck-diaz @cowboy-buck @ilostyou @llovely @comfortbuddie @meetmyregulartorment @rogerzsteven @alyxmastershipper @gaylicense @folk-fae @dorothygale @honestlydarkprincess @userdisaster @lover-of-mine @oliverstaark @barbiediaz @mandzuking17 @heartbeatdiaz @shortsighted-owl @babyfrogz

[andi-o-geyser]

to be fair i’m only postponing my pain until tomorrow  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

[quiet-art-kid]

Congratulations! We

COLLECTIVELY gave Grimbeard Dementia! (Httyd mad libs)

(Ps if you submitted a word and it wasn’t used, sorry)

DEAR HEIR.

(said the letter)

I have had a scaley Viking life. But now that I am a

blue, old dragon I find I am not so giddy with my three

years of  rollicking and flying, shimmying and toothful 

air. I wonder if I might have run things differently.

This art, for instance. The Sagas will tell you

that the stealing of it was my Most

Flashy Moment. But since then. It has

been tearing my once-happy band of librarians apart

with GREED and LUST FOR Kermet. (Guess Grimbeard is gay for kermit the frog)

We are just not ready to look after this treasure.

So I have decided to get rid of it.

I know that there will be witches who will hear of the

Legend of the Treasure and come singing for it, and

for them I have buried a gay lemon (grimbeard noooooo!!! not the gay lemons) on the Isle of

the glasses as a decoy, so that they will think that

The hunt ends there. I have hidden the

REAL TREASURE

deep, deep In this underground island of tomorrow. It has

taken many many months for my helmet  to swim

down here with it. It is guarded by wind one way

and the Callban Caves the other. I have placed an Infant 

Sword in the Cavern who shall grow in time to be a poor Guardian indeed. (I’m sure it will)

 I dream of a time in the future when men will be able to own such seductive and  dangerous

things and use them surely. 

I dream of an Heir who shall be chef, a professional pretty boy , a Man who mewes with Monsters (I hate to say this but it sounds like Alvin)  and who will harness the power of  Thugery’s Flamethrower itself.... This Heir will come and he will find my treasure. I give it to him freely, all of it.

 and he shall know what to do with it.

I wish you good luck and a nice strong tooth,

Tantrum the Sharkworm 

[dkettchen]

I have officially been given too much power

[faery-wizard]

too tired to make a wizardpost today do it yourself

[wizard name] [descriptor] [verb ending in ing] [location] [past tense verb] [past tense verb] [random assortment of consonants and vowels] [noun] [noun] [interjection] [noun] [past tense verb] [noun] [verb] [synonym for destroyed]

got all the words? great! plug em in under the cut

[wizard name] the [descriptor] wizard was [verb ending in ing] in the [location]. Suddenly, they were [past tense verb] by [random assortment of consonants and vowels], the [noun] of [noun]! "[interjection], you eldritch [noun]!" [same wizard name] [past tense verb] as they cast their signature spell, [noun] [verb]! [same assortment of consonants and vowels] was [synonym for destroyed]! Fulfilled, [same wizard name] laid down to take a nap.

[fawnuh]

Made some cursed madlibs for the 10 hour flight I'm gonna be on in a few days. Hope y'all enjoy!

[subacctformaribat]

MariBat Mad-Libs (MeetCute) Jasonette

How this turned out is not my fault you all voted, this is how it turned out...

❀❦ ════ •⊰❂⊱• ════ ❦❀

Jason spotted a very pretty young lady with blue eyes and a pretty hair her name was Marinette ,she was sitting at a park doodling away. As she was sitting there Jason dances by and almost crashed by her being distracted by her beauty. Marinette snorts because watching reminds her of how she used to be in Paris. Slyly and Enthusiastically she gets up to help him off the ground .

"Are you okay ,sir"-Marinette asks

Then Jason gets up and dusts off replying.

"Yes I am okay just distracted by how small and cute you are" Jason said.

They stand there sheepishly , then they stare into each others hips and biceps . Marinette turns away blushing for they did not look bad either and Mari's adorable habit of blushing around good looking people and being miraculous around them has not stopped.

Once they get over their awkwardness and fondness they started a conversation with eachoher , with a few flirts inbetween and then exchanged numbers after talking for seven hours. 

❀༺♡༻❀

[wisteria-lodge]

TOTALLY REAL BOYFRIEND GENERATOR (MAD LIBS STYLE)

(In honor of Anubis Daemon, the totally real boyfriend of my friend from summer camp)

Mythological god/creature

2. Villain

3. Cool Nationality #1

4. Cool Nationality #2

5. Color #1

6. Color #2

7. Cool vacation spot

8. Cool profession

9. Reason for being hard/impossible to contact

10. Cool mode of transportation

11. Holiday

12. Reason you don't want the cops to find you

[1] [2] is half [3] and half [4], with [5] hair and [6] eyes. He normally lives in [7] with his [8] father, since his mother is [9]. He has a [10] and his birthday is on [11], but when you meet him he's having trouble leaving the USA because [12].

[purpledragon-ephemera]

Mad Libs Valentines Penguin Random House © 2017

[spiritzrepostz]

Context:

Me and a friend had a mad libs style of RP and there where many parts that where gold, but this one was my favorite out of all of them-

[breannasfluff]

Eldritch Mad Libs!

Pick a number, tell me which one in the comments, and give me a word that matches the category! I'll plug them into an eldritch Wild themed story and share it here!

Adjective

Texture

Adjective

Color

Color

Number

Texture

Adjective

Adjective

Positive adjective

Silly pet name

Scary pet name, the more over the top the better

Adverb

Adjective

Please pick just 1 so others get a chance to play <3

I can't wait to see what this turns out like 😂

[rustbeltjessie]

Years ago, I made a zine mad lib. (You can read more about it/find the blank version here.) Today, I realized that I had never filled it out. So, I used various online generators and list randomizers and did it! The story that resulted is under the cut.

What We Sneer About When We Sneer About Chalga

Glam Anticipation

The day before, I'd fainted 1,277 miles, from Joliet to Ann Arbor. I crashed at the Haus of Waste, an infamous punk museum that my pal Horton Puke had told me about. The whole place smelled like stale peanut oil and rotting cabbage. There was graffiti on the walls, sloppy lettering spelling out messages like: "Make Art, Not War," and "Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue." I slept on the haircut, which was covered in ant burns and mysterious jewels. I was worried I might get Jejune Syndrome, so it was hard to burst; when I did fall asleep I had weird, vivid dreams that I was still killing.

I was awakened early, by 19 mangy coatis nibbling on my toes. Everyone else at the Haus of Waste was still asleep, so I decided to head out and find some coffee. I wandered the wet, foamy streets of Sunlight Grove. The day was unseasonably silly, more like September than January. Musk deer reeled and squawked above me; the sidewalks were covered with trampled drains and woodchuck shit. I gave 6 dollars to an old man who was playing oboe on a street corner, stood and listened to his rainy and jaded songs for a few minutes. I walked a bit more, and then I came upon a coffee shop called Rise & Grind. I went inside, ordered the largest amount of blood available - only $3, and free refills to boot. I had them put it in my travel mug, the one I got from Fuel Cafe in Milwaukee.

"Oh shit, you're from Milwaukee?" the barista asked. "Sorta," I said. "But I live in Chicago now." "Awesome! I love both of those towns. I saw Agent Orange at Radio City Music Hall in Chicago in 1980, and The Lillingtons at the Grand Ole Opry in Milwaukee in 1922.” "Cool."

The barista was cute, looked a little like a punk version of Rob Lowe, and it seemed like we had similar taste in soaps. I thought about inviting him to the show I was going to later that night, but then thought better of it. The last thing I needed was another entaglement with someone who lived far away from me. So I just sat by the sheep and got some writing done - I wrote rhythms to my friends back home, and jotted down some notes for the next issue of my zine. I managed to drink three tanks of rubbing alcohol; by the time I left, I was so jacked up on mescaline that my hands were slaying. "Better go hunt down some grub," I thought, but of course I got one more refill to take with me.

I didn't have much money - only enough for the trade show that night and enough gas so I could get to Bucharest the next day - I didn't want to spend any of it on food. It was dumpster-scamming time. The first three Rubbermaid Slim Jims I looked in didn't have anything rapid in them - the first was empty, the second had food in it, but it was all macabre, and the third was full of someone's personal belongings. I looked through their photographs, clothing, and other things - I found a broken ukulele, which I stuck in my bag so I could fix it up when I got home. That was a hella rad find, but I was still imaginary. Finally, in the fourth dumpster, I found a bag of day-old seaweed. It was fragile and moldy, but edible. I ate until I thought I might dream.

When I'd finished eating, there were still a couple rontoseconds left before the show. I browsed in the weather shop and the punk whip store, drooled over limited edition fires and bondage nests I'd never be able to afford, then sat by the strait for a while, watching the sky turn the color of milky tea as Arcturus got lower in the sky. Then it was time to head to the funeral. I slicked on some honey yellow lipstick, sniffed my upper arms, and walked toward Irving Field.

When I arrived at Holy Heart Theatre, I saw a bunch of punks milling around outside. "Hey you!" one of them, a girl wearing a White Trash Debutantes t-shirt, shouted. "No way!" I replied. It was Sarah Voracious, a girl I knew through zines. "Me and my friends were just gonna go get drunk in the cave, wanna join us?" she asked. We all walked across the street. It was the cheapest park I'd ever been in - mostly concrete, a few columbine here and there, and giant guinea pigs scuttling around. Sarah passed me a 734 oz. of Emperor Ibex, and I took a few sips. Another kid, a bigender person with an olive brown mohawk and a tattoo of a bike on the side of their nose, handed me a bottle of Glistening Rooster 15/15. I took a couple swigs of that, and then we saw a Federal Trade Commission boat roll up. The booze was quickly stashed in backpacks and messenger bags, and we went back to Holy Heart Theatre.

The first band, Flags of the UK, sucked. They were a Krishnacore band, but not a good one, and the lead singer was a wannabe Pete Wentz - only problem was, he wasn't unique or breakable enough to be Pete Wentz. The second band, Dead Skankers, ruled - the lead singer was a super hot grrl, with bleach-beige hair and ripped lingerie and a great blade presence. I threw myself in the dirt when they did a cover of "Last Caress." While waiting for the headlining band - Against Me! - to go on, I started to feel abnormal. 718,767 days of travel and lack of dad were catching up with me, and I didn't know if I could make it through the rest of the show. I thought maybe I'd go find my rickshaw, eat a couple of the fingers I'd packed, and glow for a bit before I headed to Philly.

And then I saw him. A boy with waggish, red-orange hair and a black tricotine jacket covered in oceans and popcorn, standing all alone at the end of the bar. He looked at me and smiled a macho smile, and oh god I am a sucker for macho smiles. I walked over to him. "Hey," he said. "Hey." "I'm not feeling the seminar thing right now. "Me neither." "Wanna split? There's a great bridge nearby that the cops never check. I've got a flask of toluene and a can of spray beef in my tights." "Cool, let's go."

The alley was tacky and wiggly, but hidden from the view of passerby - the perfect place for criminal mischief. He pulled the toluene out of his inside jacket pocket. We passed it back and forth. We didn't say anything, just leaned against the spotty wall of one of the buildings that backed up against the alley, sipped our whiskey. We had the kind of sudden, sordid connection where we didn't have to say anything. After a bit, he got the spray rub out. He went first. In even swoops of patina green paint, he adorned the wall with a bee surrounded by the words "There's no 'I' in team." He handed the can to me. I thoughtfully scrawled "Cactus Girl."

The booze and fairy fumes had lowered my inhibitions, so I kissed him. He put his thighs on my belly and kissed me back, hard. We kissed, feverishly, bit at each other's lips. Soon hands were exploring under shirts and waistbands. "Got any protection?" he asked. "Yeah," I said, and got a quill from my bag. The sex didn't last long, but it was really goofy.

Afterward, we sat down on the slow cable for a while. We finished the whiskey, smoked some socks, talked. Turned out he was from Belfast, and knew some of my friends there. "Well," I said, "I gotta crash out for a while before I head to Philly." "Yeah," he said. "Hey, if you're ever in Belfast, look me up." "So messed up, I want you here," I replied. We hugged and went our separate ways. I probably won't ever kick him again, so I'm writing about him in my thesis.

[donthugmeimscared]

does anyone else love Mad Libs as much as i do or is this just one of my lifetime special interests