Boredom and Monotony in Nagasaki

Boredom.

If Kenji Gosenkugi knew anything, it had to of been boredom. After all, there wasn’t much more in the life of a college bound, Japanese perfectionist. Every single thing he did had always been done according to a schedule, every moment of his day meticulously planned well in advance. For a young man, such an existence was mind-numbing, but such was the way he was raised. ‘There would be time for fun later,’ his father would always tell him, ‘for now, you must work’. Perhaps it was cliché; the entire song and dance a byproduct of a generational gap that had yet to be crossed. Regardless, it was his life and he embraced it the best he could.

But still, he was so God damned bored.

Casting dark brown eyes down to the desk in front of him, Kenji dully gazed at the various papers that lay splayed before him. There, countless pieces of important transcripts and documents rested, each one gone over a number of times. Most of them pertained to the various things he required to send in for college applications, while a scant few were dedicated to the occasional hobbies and pastimes he afforded himself: Guitar magazines, a few articles on American muscle cars and a tattered copy of ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’ by the late Hunter S. Thompson. All were things he valued, but after spending years of focusing upon them, they had begun to lose their luster.

“So,” he wondered aloud, his voice soft and tinged with his natural accent. “What am I to do with myself now?” He murmured as he brought a single hand upward, allowing his fingers to brush through the thick, black mop of chin length hair that hung from his head. He could think of many things he could do, but the grand majority of them would not fall in line with his father’s desired routine for him. Things like going out and chatting with friends or even playing a video game or two. Simple things, the stuff that most people his age took for granted. Letting a sigh pass through his thin lips, he turned toward the small, somewhat cramped expanse of his room to search for something acceptable.

Guitar practice?

No, his fingers were still aching from playing at least three hours a day for several years. He wasn’t in the mood for that.

Yet another book?

He had read each book in his collection at least three times. An added fourth time wouldn’t garner any more interest.

Catching up on school work?

He had finished the grand majority of his assignments for the week already. What he hadn’t done wasn’t due for any significant amount of time.

Another sigh left him, the noise bleak and heavy, as he realized that the restrictions placed upon him were too great. There was nothing to do in this place, nothing to keep him from languishing within the white-walled, plaintive prison he called home. It would seem that his only choice was sleep, something that seemed far from likely considering that the sun had barely even begun to fall from the sky. He had no chance of escaping the monotony of his life any time soon, be it freedom by means of the veil of slumber or even something to idly amuse himself with. No, there was nothing to free himself with there.

‘So,’ he heard a distant voice in the back of his head say,’ why not live a little?” At that thought, he froze for a moment. For seventeen years, he had lived and breathed every word, every rule, that his father had placed upon him. Disobedience was unheard of, rebellion a nonexistent word. To go against what he had been told to do was something that was almost impossible to think of.

Almost.

Everything within his head told him to ignore such thoughts, but his heart told him to go along for the ride. After all, wasn’t that what Hunter said? ‘Buy the ticket, take the ride’. Of course, that phrase meant something entirely different to the Good Doctor, but wouldn’t it apply to him as well? He didn’t need to convince himself much more; he was already grabbing the heavy black wool coat he wore off of the hook on the back of his door. In a matter of moments, he was pulling it on over his buttoned up short sleeve shirt and fastening it to his body.

It only took a minute to get outside, where the street lamps had just begun to flicker to life as the sun set. He couldn’t recall the last time he was out doors after dark without some kind of accompaniment. Had he ever been allowed out like this? He couldn’t even recall. It was only mere luck that had gotten out; his father was working later than usual, it seemed. It didn’t matter to him though…Any reason for an escape from the dullness of his day to day life was good enough to him.

Taking a moment to glance down the road outside of the front of his small apartment building, he saw nothing but road and buildings in one direction and much the same laid along the other. There was nothing to suggest a possible destination, a potential cure for his boredom. However, as he breathed in the air, pungent and polluted, it no longer seemed to matter. No, rhyme and reason wasn’t important now. He had taken the first step toward some kind of independence, as small and insignificant as it was. All he had to do was make that first step.

So, he did.

Turning to the left, he began to walk those dull streets of his home town, down winding roads that took him to nowhere at all but that was okay. He had already bought the ticket; the ride, whatever it would bring him, would be worth it.

Well, you sure are a good writer. The grammar is excellent, the spelling is perfect and there aren't any over-the-top action scenes. However, there is more to a sample than just that. It also needs to be mundane and the story is mundane in the sense that there aren't any supernatural beings or occurrences, but it isn't in the way that it pertains to the real world.

For example, Kenji one day decides to disobey his father's orders after following them for seventeen years with no questions asked and ventures out to break his boredom. Now, I believe that a normal, mundane kid wouldn't just decide one day, out of nowhere, to disobey their parents after obediently doing so for such a long period of time. They would have periodical thoughts of doing it throughout their life, not acting on them due to the possible consequences or other reasons, before finally getting enough confidence or motivation to act on them. It just wouldn't be a sudden occurrence if they have been doing it for seventeen years. It would be a little more understandable in a smaller time frame, but seventeen years is too much.

If it was hinted, or stated, that he had thoughts of doing it before, then it would be more believable, but I didn't see any hint of this throughout the story. It just sort of happened with no proper build up to it.

The story needs to be properly built. Think of this not just from an author's perspective, but from a roleplayer's. Even in a roleplay, there should be some build up to the events that are going to occur or else the reader will end up being confused as to what is happening. And in a roleplay site that actually has a plot (e.g. this site), this becomes a major issue. Even when having a roleplay fight, there should be build up or else people will be confused as to why the characters are fighting. Sure random scenes are fun at times and we have a section for that (i.e. Wako Mundo), but in the canon of this site, there needs to be reasons for events.

So a sample with an organized story structure with a proper exposition and a series of events, each leading to the next, is crucial and while the quality of the writing in this sample is top notch, it lacks that component. So, I give this sample....

Tier 2

So you can make any character besides an Elder One.