Coming to an attraction near you: Miami Vek
Where RP Characters Go
ON A SOUNDSTAGE, SOMEWHERE - A loud bell clanged above, signaling the scene had abruptly ended. Of course, one didn’t really need the clapperboard slamming down in front of the camera, or the stagehand shouting “cut” to know filming had stopped. None of that really mattered - the only thing that mattered was whether or not that camera light was red and bright. It was a small and pleasant light, nothing like the white-hot stage lights hanging above, dousing the scene in a pink hue - the color of a well-mixed cosmopolitan that wasn’t yet watered-down. At least there was mist on to keep the air from going stale, and some kind of jazz track in the background to ease the nerves a bit.
Stapen set his weapon down on the hood of some kind of angular yellow car that looked to be a bit older as he folded the large, cumbersome auditory device in the palm of his hand. Of course, the car was a firebird and the cell phone was an SP-75 carphone, an earlier model that had been obsolete for some thirty years or so. He knew that because he was immersed in the context of the current roleplay, and was still somewhat familiar with the nomenclature. Being an experienced character meant he could remember such things, even after the scene was over. After all, this wasn’t a fly-by-night kind of character - he’d been in many roleplays, but none with the particularly sleezy leisure suit that smelled of naphthalene and had some kind of fine thread count to the point where his own fingerprints seemed to have more texture about them.
He removed his wrap-around shades (genuine Khans, whatever that meant), and raked his ring-encrusted fingers through his hair as stagehands flocked to the front to spruce up the waters and clean off the sidewalk.
“Nothing like a new roleplay to get things going, right?” the other character, Ikrisia, commented. “I mean, normally we’ve been indifferent or fighting in the last roleplays, but we’re a team in this one. A crime-fighting team from the 80’s! Look at my shades! Aviators! Why can’t I wear these in Vekaiyu?”
“Ah, I don’t know.” Stapen rejected a cigarette as he leaned against the hood of the car. “Too much… what do they call it? Vaporwave? Different than the Unonian stuff we usually hear.” He shrugged and produced the slightest hint of a smirk as a few lights shut down. “This work’s different, but work’s better than no work, you know? Can’t complain about that.”
Ikrisia fiddled with her lapel. The vulpine female smirked and moved her shades down so she could peer over the frames. “Don’t like the slow life, as they call it?”
“Not really. But things are kind of slow. I mean, I was in that one book, you know? And that other one, too. Those have different plots. But, actual roleplays, you know, those haven’t been as… what’s the word?”
“Prevalent?”
“Yeah, that means happening a lot, right?” He watched as Ikrisia nodded. “Good. It’s kind of nice switching things up now and then. Like that one I put in a ticket for. I’m supposed to be this character that’s based off of a real character. Something about ripping my head off, having a weird name, and wearing a striped suit.”
“Oh, prison?”
“Nah. They don’t really go for the stripe look in prisons these days. It sounds weird, but at least it’s something.” He leaned back to stretch his spine out. “I mean, you ever wonder what happened to those other punks we used to work with? Some would be nice enough not to hate us while we were working. I could get a drink with most of them, but you know, doesn’t take a lot to get a vulpine drunk. Well, unless you’re seasoned.”
“Ah, don’t kill the moment! But, I remember some of them, yes.” Ikrisia paused. “I’m an older character than you. And I’ve been in Shiro and grand balls and functions and vacations and all sorts of places. Oh, and I sometimes comment on Olympics! But as for the other characters - and there’s a lot of them - I think they actually go somewhere.”
“Somewhere?”
She motioned with her hands. “Somewhere out there. Far out there, into the ether. But that’s how things go when it comes to roleplaying. It’s not an easy gig, as they say. You get thought about and suddenly you kind of just appear. Then, you’re immediately given an agent, and that agent sets out to find work for you. Some get lucky and get main roles. Others don’t, but they find steady work. Many more don’t - even well-known names lose their jobs. And if you lose your agent, well, you kind of just… just…”
“Die?”
“Not quite, from what I understand. You don’t actually die. You fade. It’s almost as if you begin to blend into the background then, well, you become the background. Then, you’re forgotten.” Ikrisia pointed to herself, though was careful not to wrinkle her tie. “I’ve noticed it from time to time with myself. A color shift here, a small blink there. We’re more vibrant when others read about us, and the more we’re forgotten, the faded we become. Agents try to get us involved with other agents to make a production and possibly involve a hit, but in roleplay, the more we work together, the more others will read our works, and the more we’ll be remembered.”
Stapen sighed. “I’ve seen people die in those roleplays. It’s dangerous work. I mean, I’ve killed off a lot of people. Like that one guy… what was his name…” he snapped his fingers and stared off into the distance, trying to jostle his mind. “Ah well.”
“But you wouldn’t have it any other way, right?” Ikrisia smirked.
Stapen motioned her to follow him off the set. “I guess not. Too bad I can’t keep the suit, right?”
“It looks tailored!” Ikrisia encouraged. “At least you get cool clothes most of the time. I’m usually in some kind of skirt like this or a swimsuit. So I can’t really skip the gym. It’s a regiment - wake up at 5, go to the gym, get breakfast, read over lines while we drive over to the soundstage-”
“So… when a character fades… do they fade for good?”
Ikrisia bit her lip. “Well… usually, yeah. It’s kind of sad, actually. Characters, good characters that beg to be put in anything - bit roles, humiliating roles, even. But they can’t. Their agent is gone. Plus, even if they did get a bit part, even if someone was really nice to them, everyone would recognize them. It’s like how I can’t ever not be the Premier of Vekaiyu back on Urth. Well, maybe one day I won’t, but I’ll then be the former Premier of Vekaiyu. I can’t just go for any part anymore. I’m too well-known, as are you.”
Stapen sat down and reached for a drink next to his chair. “Ah, we’ll see about that. I did it before. Remember prison, right?”
“Yeah, but you were still the dictator of Listonia. That’s what I mean. Being a main, as they call it, is both a blessing and a curse. A main is a somebody. Some let the fame get to them and they become pariahs. But they all lose out eventually. No one has an agent forever, meaning that one day, we’re both going to fade.”
“Fade forever, eh?”
She nodded. “Getting in books helps prolong it, but eventually we will fade too. If someone reads about us, we flicker, and we’ll remember, and it’ll feel so… warm, I imagine. Happiness feels warm.” Her smile faded. “One day I’ll be begging for that feeling like the other characters I remember seeing. It’s interesting - they say that hellfire is so hot that a single drop of water would mean all the relief in the world. But at least you feel it, right?” She looked up at Stapen. “I’m afraid of not being able to feel one day. I know it’s going to happen, but it’s like waiting for death. Do I enjoy the time I have here, or do I fret over the time I’ve lost?”
“Sounds like an easy answer,” Stapen assured.
“It does. But my character traits include worrying. Yours, not so much. So I do worry, and I do fret. It can be smothering at times, and if my mind freezes, well, so does my body. But I’ve tried to learn from that. The more roles I get, the more I try not to think about it. I suppose that not pondering over it merits greater warmth. In other words, I try to live in the moment, enjoy the moment. And when I do, I swear it’s so silly, but I feel real, even if it’s only for a moment. Like I’m really… there.”
“I think I understand.” Stapen took another sip of his drink. “I tend to only think about it when I’m not working. But I guess I thought about it today, you know? I’ve had some real close calls in my roles, but I just sort of don’t think about it. Maybe I should go back to not thinking about it.”
Ikrisia laughed slightly. “Well, at least we have the same agent, right? Meaning that when we do fade, we’ll likely fade together, in a way.”
“Along with the rest of those mugs who have our same agent.”
“Right.” Ikrisia cleared her throat and gripped the wooden rails of the chair as she propelled herself out of her seat. Only a minor adjustment of her hair was necessary, but the camera was blinking red, and when that happened, well, it usually meant the next scene was ready. She held out a hand as Stapen slowly lifted from his own seat, then handed him his shades as the two moved back towards the scene at hand.
“We’re in the car this time!” the vulpine female exclaimed. “Suppose we’ll drive with the windows down?”
Stapen shrugged. “Why not? We have a little bit of freedom in that. Anything to drown out the vaporwave.”
“Aw, come on!” She rolled her eyes as she put her aviators back on. “Live in the moment, right? This time… this time I’m actually going to smile if they call for it. And, if I go diving in that later scene and someone cuts my airhose, well, I’m really going to panic, not work it out, but really do it this time. Then, if we catch the crooks, I mean when we do, I’m really going to mash their face against the hood of the car!”
Stapen made a face as someone dabbed a brush on his cheek. “Feels good to work again, doesn’t it?”
Ikrisia chucked. “Maybe just a little bit, yeah. But isn’t this scene beautiful? The palm trees, the waves, the hues and shades of color working together in unison. Pretty neat, right?”
The older vulpine cleared his throat as he opened the driver’s side door. He turned to face Ikrisia. “You know, now that you mention it, the sunset… does seem a little brighter.”