There’s this playlist that I’ve recently subscribed to, on Spotify; it is called Quiet Fantasy RPG Background, and I listen to it when I need to concentrate and to take a break from the obnoxious French rap.
It’s good music, and when I put it on this afternoon I was hit with a fresh wave of nostalgia for the world of Fantasy RPG forums I used to get lost in, as a teen.
There was a French book series, in particular; truth be told it wasn’t all that good, and the least you could say is that it had been heavily influenced by Philip Pullman’s Dark Materials Trilogy and Harry Potter, but it became my portal to online role-playing.
I love that we made our own thing out of it; that we took this world and spun it another life. I love that we were writing this together, that it was a puzzle-piece to figure out as we went. That you wouldn’t know where the story would go until the others had replied. I love that I met like-minded people through it, bookworms and nerds and people who loved to write and dream, who were passionate and excited.
I must have created half a dozen of characters with butterfly life spans, but the one that stuck throughout the years was a human huntress called Kipsta. She could handle a bow like no-one could, and she was an elusive and sought-after hit woman. She had a long, dark braid, gold eyes, a silver-colored eagle for a familiar, a sharp tongue. She was arrogant and snarky and soft when no-one was looking; she didn’t much like people. Once, a man fell in love with her and plucked out a star from the sky and shaped it into a necklace for her.
I miss her, tonight. I remember the snippets of her life, the times she almost died, the people she loved, the chases she outran, the homes that she built, the white-haired child she saved.
It was probably all sorts of cliché and stumbling, but it was very much real and dammit, reminiscing kind of makes me want to write an old-school fantasy novel, now.