[spoiler]TALK TALK TALK - A Dialogue Guide
This is my personal guide to internal and external dialogue choices. I want to flesh out how I go about writing thought and speech for my characters, as well as why I do the things I do. A few weeks ago, someone asked my methods and I told them I would get around to making a guide, and while I have time to do so, I figured now was as good a time as any. Hopefully, someone gleans something useful from the dump of information, but keep in mind that this is my personal opinion made based on trial and error, as well as years of writing. RP posts differ greatly from actual novel writing, after all. Adapting your writing style between the two is key to create enjoyable characters, worlds, and interactions in a role-play scenario.
Key points I plan to cover:
- Your character's level of education will greatly affect their manner and use of speech. Your character's age will also affect their manner and use of speech. And as you might have guessed it - your character's race, nationality, religion, political allegiances, and economic status will affect their manner and use of speech.
- No two characters will sound the same way through text because, like people, they are all unique in how they express themselves. Even a character that is part of an organization that is trained to look and act a certain way will retain a sense of individuality by how they speak, what mannerisms they use, and how they emote*.
- Slang, half-thoughts, and other unfinished sentences are normal parts of sentient interaction. We all stutter, stop and say "uh", and otherwise get caught up on a tangent from time to time. Adding these sorts of mechanics to a character's conversations help to provide flavor to "mundane" scenes that otherwise seem like filler.
- Dialogue and speech can reflect a character's emotional, physical and mental states. From choked replies to drunk slurring, it's important to give some kind of indication of an outstanding circumstance in the way your character talks, and in their body language.
- Use body language to fill the gaps. Quiet characters often give more information through their actions than through their dialogue.
- Sometimes, less is more - but not always.
- Finally, internal dialogue is optional. Yes, you heard me correctly. In an RP, there is a difference between reflective narration and internal dialogue. Knowing the difference might change the tone of the post and give your scenes a more organic and natural flow of pace.
*That said, there are examples of hive mind scenarios, but that is an exception to the rule.
---
In his lifespan of centuries- no, more than that- millennia, Rhom Ariven had known sacrifice and loss and for these reasons, he was the only member of the council who did not flinch at the mention of Man.
Vanya Kestrie did as her perfect features rearranged to tell of her unspoken distaste. Morier Thyme also twisted in his seat with unmentioned disgust, his dark arms bare and folded across the thin fabric of his sleeveless tunic.
At present, the curia regis had been cleared of those untrustworthy of a taking part in the council's emergency meeting. The minstrels, the maidens, the nobility and the archons, as well as their advisors and their bastards and their appointed spouses and their political allies and rivals alike, had been dismissed abruptly in the wake of messengers arrival. Even the guards were kept sparse with only a precious few stationed outside the entrances and in the halls of greater Elear. Those who remained were of the council who reigned supreme over Elven kind - and an outsider to their kind.
If his claims were true, he was a child of Man.
"Forgive us for our skepticism," Morrier would say unapologetically, his nostrils flaring, "But you are claiming something heretical within Dôr Vala as well as much of Perspice. A grave sin which I would urge you to think very carefully about repeating in earnest to this council."
"Hm. I am still in consideration of how you were able to bypass this castle's security. Perhaps you bribed your way in? Magic? Indulge me this before I am to imagine you as anything more than an intruder in our midst." Vanya may have purred while issuing these inquiries, but her figure was tense as the nocking point of a well-made bow. She would draw her sights from the stranger and seek Rhom's eyes, asking silently that he press forward with his questions as well.
It was unfortunate that Rhom was the oldest of the three as this status would often earn him the position of loudest voice in the Elear. Even then. Even in the presence of what had been thought extinct.
Rhom was motionless; a statue of polished porcelain flesh in the grandiose expanse of elven court. He was as the divine intended, and more, but he knew not what to ask of this ghost. He loathed considering his message to be a truth. He dreaded being more curious than angered by this violation of Elven law. "Why have you come?" His posture eased as he breathed but he dared not look at the person standing apart from the seated council. "What do you want of Dôr Vala that might bring you to our court?"
"Some might say this is an auspicious occasion. One of great importance." The man would nod in his normality, appearing as nothing so majestic as the Elves he stood before, yet there was purpose in his posture. A confidence his counterparts were lacking. "Some might see the great gift they have been given. Ask the right questions and get the right answers."
With a sigh, Vanya asked, "Have you a wish to be introduced with the dungeons of Dôr Vala? They have no place for the penitent, but you have made yourself into something of a thorn in my side rather quickly, so I will choose to believe you have no need for penance."
"Dungeons?" The man laughed and then sighed, drawing a strange object from his waistband. It looked to be made of silver or another ore of that shade, with notches and dials and foreign design plated around the outward shape. He pointed it at Vanya with a smile. "Made by the hands of my creators, only to be stolen by the likes of you." His thumb cocked back the hammer to his pistol. "A waste."
BANG-
Meanwhile...
Mr. Vargas clapped his tiny hands and shouted as loudly as a being of his stature might shout, "Attention! May I have your attention please?!"
At his side, a massive bear Therian named Brutus bellowed, "ATTENTION!" He needn't repeat himself.
The Zoo was hectic and in great disorder but in the best way possible, and the owner beamed his pride as best a pixie could, his wings aflutter and his aura a blaze of glittering crimson and gold. "Tell them it's almost time to go! Tell them we will be heading out in just a few moments! The expedition! Tell them to be ready!"
And while Brutus was large and loud, he wasn't too bright a fellow. His words roared through the mess hall where everyone had been gathered like the boom of thunder right above their heads.
"PACK UP AND GET MOVING! IT'S EXPEDITION TIME, BOYS AND GIRLS!" To add to his fervor, he slapped the table top with enough force to crush the wood with a sharp buckle.
Mr. Vargas screeched angrily and waved his fists, but to no avail as Brutus flashed a toothy grin toward the expeditionary force. Eventually, he would calm and laugh as always, taking a seat on Brutus' shoulders so the two might easily communicate. The caravans were full, their occupants in good spirits and the bards were strumming their lutes and mandolins as they constructed silly diddlies of the great search for the greatest of foes. One such passenger was packed into the back of a carriage with ten or so other adventurers, though she seemed the least suited to be in the company of would be sellswords and hired muscle.
"I can't understand this," Juniper muttered under her breath, crammed between Therians of various breed. "His vagueness is starting to become irritating."
Of course, she didn't expect a response as mules began braying outside in reply to whips at their hind quarters. She just stared at Ewan where he was seated, equally packed in with other men of his size, give or take.
Meanwhile...
There was blood at his feet. On his feet. The sticky sort, still warm. He could smell it in the air, slitted nostrils widening momentarily at the invasion of coppery undertones. He frowned in the way only he could frown. That was to say, he frowned with his body while his face remained obfuscated by a mask that complimented the darker tones of his bare skin. In this state of pseudo nudity, he wore no shoes, and this blood business was pooling irritatingly at his toes. A mistep might lead to an accident. Bixby had no tolerance for accidents - unintentional or staged "accidents". "There is a mess on the tile," he began matter-of-factly, one large hand sweeping a motion downward at the scene of the crime. "A mess I expect you to take care of." His tone was bordering parental, like he was speaking with a child who needed gentle reprimanding.
"I will," the smaller man replied, but he was smiling in blissful ignorance despite what atrocities had been committed. Zipping his pants with one hand, the other busied itself giving a playful salute to the proprietor of the brokerage.
"Quickly then-" Bixby leaned back from the direction of the blood, his gaze over his shoulder for a time to seek who occupied the greater faculties of the brokerage. Two women for the time being; a Drow and an Avariel. Bixby's mannerisms tensed as he strained to hear the two through the small slit in the doorway he was occupying, but not a word made it's way to his ears.
"They're busy," the other man explained, his wand waving off the idea of being seen or overheard. "so just go wash off your feet and make sure you're there to attend your guests when they require you. I won't be long."
[/spoiler]
This is my personal guide to internal and external dialogue choices. I want to flesh out how I go about writing thought and speech for my characters, as well as why I do the things I do. A few weeks ago, someone asked my methods and I told them I would get around to making a guide, and while I have time to do so, I figured now was as good a time as any. Hopefully, someone gleans something useful from the dump of information, but keep in mind that this is my personal opinion made based on trial and error, as well as years of writing. RP posts differ greatly from actual novel writing, after all. Adapting your writing style between the two is key to create enjoyable characters, worlds, and interactions in a role-play scenario.
Key points I plan to cover:
- Your character's level of education will greatly affect their manner and use of speech. Your character's age will also affect their manner and use of speech. And as you might have guessed it - your character's race, nationality, religion, political allegiances, and economic status will affect their manner and use of speech.
- No two characters will sound the same way through text because, like people, they are all unique in how they express themselves. Even a character that is part of an organization that is trained to look and act a certain way will retain a sense of individuality by how they speak, what mannerisms they use, and how they emote*.
- Slang, half-thoughts, and other unfinished sentences are normal parts of sentient interaction. We all stutter, stop and say "uh", and otherwise get caught up on a tangent from time to time. Adding these sorts of mechanics to a character's conversations help to provide flavor to "mundane" scenes that otherwise seem like filler.
- Dialogue and speech can reflect a character's emotional, physical and mental states. From choked replies to drunk slurring, it's important to give some kind of indication of an outstanding circumstance in the way your character talks, and in their body language.
- Use body language to fill the gaps. Quiet characters often give more information through their actions than through their dialogue.
- Sometimes, less is more - but not always.
- Finally, internal dialogue is optional. Yes, you heard me correctly. In an RP, there is a difference between reflective narration and internal dialogue. Knowing the difference might change the tone of the post and give your scenes a more organic and natural flow of pace.
*That said, there are examples of hive mind scenarios, but that is an exception to the rule.
---
In his lifespan of centuries- no, more than that- millennia, Rhom Ariven had known sacrifice and loss and for these reasons, he was the only member of the council who did not flinch at the mention of Man.
Vanya Kestrie did as her perfect features rearranged to tell of her unspoken distaste. Morier Thyme also twisted in his seat with unmentioned disgust, his dark arms bare and folded across the thin fabric of his sleeveless tunic.
At present, the curia regis had been cleared of those untrustworthy of a taking part in the council's emergency meeting. The minstrels, the maidens, the nobility and the archons, as well as their advisors and their bastards and their appointed spouses and their political allies and rivals alike, had been dismissed abruptly in the wake of messengers arrival. Even the guards were kept sparse with only a precious few stationed outside the entrances and in the halls of greater Elear. Those who remained were of the council who reigned supreme over Elven kind - and an outsider to their kind.
If his claims were true, he was a child of Man.
"Forgive us for our skepticism," Morrier would say unapologetically, his nostrils flaring, "But you are claiming something heretical within Dôr Vala as well as much of Perspice. A grave sin which I would urge you to think very carefully about repeating in earnest to this council."
"Hm. I am still in consideration of how you were able to bypass this castle's security. Perhaps you bribed your way in? Magic? Indulge me this before I am to imagine you as anything more than an intruder in our midst." Vanya may have purred while issuing these inquiries, but her figure was tense as the nocking point of a well-made bow. She would draw her sights from the stranger and seek Rhom's eyes, asking silently that he press forward with his questions as well.
It was unfortunate that Rhom was the oldest of the three as this status would often earn him the position of loudest voice in the Elear. Even then. Even in the presence of what had been thought extinct.
Rhom was motionless; a statue of polished porcelain flesh in the grandiose expanse of elven court. He was as the divine intended, and more, but he knew not what to ask of this ghost. He loathed considering his message to be a truth. He dreaded being more curious than angered by this violation of Elven law. "Why have you come?" His posture eased as he breathed but he dared not look at the person standing apart from the seated council. "What do you want of Dôr Vala that might bring you to our court?"
"Some might say this is an auspicious occasion. One of great importance." The man would nod in his normality, appearing as nothing so majestic as the Elves he stood before, yet there was purpose in his posture. A confidence his counterparts were lacking. "Some might see the great gift they have been given. Ask the right questions and get the right answers."
With a sigh, Vanya asked, "Have you a wish to be introduced with the dungeons of Dôr Vala? They have no place for the penitent, but you have made yourself into something of a thorn in my side rather quickly, so I will choose to believe you have no need for penance."
"Dungeons?" The man laughed and then sighed, drawing a strange object from his waistband. It looked to be made of silver or another ore of that shade, with notches and dials and foreign design plated around the outward shape. He pointed it at Vanya with a smile. "Made by the hands of my creators, only to be stolen by the likes of you." His thumb cocked back the hammer to his pistol. "A waste."
BANG-
Meanwhile...
Mr. Vargas clapped his tiny hands and shouted as loudly as a being of his stature might shout, "Attention! May I have your attention please?!"
At his side, a massive bear Therian named Brutus bellowed, "ATTENTION!" He needn't repeat himself.
The Zoo was hectic and in great disorder but in the best way possible, and the owner beamed his pride as best a pixie could, his wings aflutter and his aura a blaze of glittering crimson and gold. "Tell them it's almost time to go! Tell them we will be heading out in just a few moments! The expedition! Tell them to be ready!"
And while Brutus was large and loud, he wasn't too bright a fellow. His words roared through the mess hall where everyone had been gathered like the boom of thunder right above their heads.
"PACK UP AND GET MOVING! IT'S EXPEDITION TIME, BOYS AND GIRLS!" To add to his fervor, he slapped the table top with enough force to crush the wood with a sharp buckle.
Mr. Vargas screeched angrily and waved his fists, but to no avail as Brutus flashed a toothy grin toward the expeditionary force. Eventually, he would calm and laugh as always, taking a seat on Brutus' shoulders so the two might easily communicate. The caravans were full, their occupants in good spirits and the bards were strumming their lutes and mandolins as they constructed silly diddlies of the great search for the greatest of foes. One such passenger was packed into the back of a carriage with ten or so other adventurers, though she seemed the least suited to be in the company of would be sellswords and hired muscle.
"I can't understand this," Juniper muttered under her breath, crammed between Therians of various breed. "His vagueness is starting to become irritating."
Of course, she didn't expect a response as mules began braying outside in reply to whips at their hind quarters. She just stared at Ewan where he was seated, equally packed in with other men of his size, give or take.
Meanwhile...
There was blood at his feet. On his feet. The sticky sort, still warm. He could smell it in the air, slitted nostrils widening momentarily at the invasion of coppery undertones. He frowned in the way only he could frown. That was to say, he frowned with his body while his face remained obfuscated by a mask that complimented the darker tones of his bare skin. In this state of pseudo nudity, he wore no shoes, and this blood business was pooling irritatingly at his toes. A mistep might lead to an accident. Bixby had no tolerance for accidents - unintentional or staged "accidents". "There is a mess on the tile," he began matter-of-factly, one large hand sweeping a motion downward at the scene of the crime. "A mess I expect you to take care of." His tone was bordering parental, like he was speaking with a child who needed gentle reprimanding.
"I will," the smaller man replied, but he was smiling in blissful ignorance despite what atrocities had been committed. Zipping his pants with one hand, the other busied itself giving a playful salute to the proprietor of the brokerage.
"Quickly then-" Bixby leaned back from the direction of the blood, his gaze over his shoulder for a time to seek who occupied the greater faculties of the brokerage. Two women for the time being; a Drow and an Avariel. Bixby's mannerisms tensed as he strained to hear the two through the small slit in the doorway he was occupying, but not a word made it's way to his ears.
"They're busy," the other man explained, his wand waving off the idea of being seen or overheard. "so just go wash off your feet and make sure you're there to attend your guests when they require you. I won't be long."
[/spoiler]
BDRP Admin. Writer. Villain. Personal Blog.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.