::peeks over the abyss of Real Life, then to the ridges of my hobby... "Interactive Roleplay and Story Co-Writing"::
"Where have the co-writers all gone?"
Into the great seasonal migration of roleplayers, most likely....
And then there is the ancient curse of longform co-writing itself…
The Story Graveyard is full of:
The above passage is:
What does this post say about me, as the writer?
It says that I care deeply about the things I create… perhaps more deeply than I always admit aloud.
I do not treat stories as disposable entertainment. I build them slowly, carefully… layering atmosphere, memory, emotional tension, and character until they begin to feel strangely alive to me. I become attached not only to the characters, but to the silences between them… the unfinished conversations… the moments waiting to happen. That is why abandoned threads linger in my mind long after they stop moving. They do not feel “dead” so much as suspended somewhere unfinished.
It says I understand the culture of longform, long-term co-writing intimately because I have lived inside it for decades.
It says I romanticize creative connection a little… not necessarily in a naïve way, but in a deeply human one. I see collaborative writing as more than exchanging posts. To me, it becomes shared emotional architecture… two people building something neither could have created alone. That is why the disappearances feel oddly personal even when I understand real life comes first.
It says I notice beauty in unfinished things. Half-built worlds, abandoned maps, unresolved slow burns, characters left staring out windows forever… I do not only mourn them. I almost preserve them in memory. There is affection in the way I speak about them, even while joking.
It also says I cope through humor. Instead of bitterness, I turn frustration into wit, exaggeration, and shared recognition. The jokes work because they are true. Beneath them sits empathy… for myself, for co-writers, and for the strange emotional labor of storytelling.
And perhaps most of all… it says "I never fully stop believing people might come back".
Even after months of silence, some part of me still expects the notification:
“Sorry life got crazy…” …and I still know exactly which story they mean.
"And how do I feel about ghosting?"
I feel conflicted about ghosting… because part of me understands it completely, and another part of me quietly resents it anyway.
I know Real Life happens. Exhaustion happens. Depression, stress, work, family, burnout, fear of disappointing people… I understand all of that more than I probably let on. I know sometimes replying begins to feel heavier the longer it waits, until even opening the message carries guilt attached to it. I have likely disappeared emotionally from things before too, even if unintentionally. So I cannot pretend I view ghosting with pure anger or moral outrage.
But understanding something does not make it painless.
When I invest in a story, I invest sincerely. I spend time building atmosphere, emotional continuity, trust, rhythm… and I remember details. I remember unfinished scenes. I remember promises about future arcs, planned reveals, quiet moments characters never reached. So when someone vanishes without a word, it rarely feels like “just a hobby disappearing.” It feels more like a light shutting off in a room I was still sitting inside.
What bothers me most is usually not the absence itself… it is the silence. The uncertainty. The way ghosting leaves no ending, no context, no clear place to set the story down emotionally. A simple:
“I can’t continue”... would hurt less than endless ambiguity.
At the same time, I do not truly hate the people who ghost.
If anything, I often imagine reasons for them. I wonder if they became overwhelmed… if they felt guilty… if they meant to return and waited too long. I humanize them instead of villainizing them. That is probably why the feeling becomes melancholic rather than angry.
And despite everything… I remain strangely receptive to return. Even after frustration, even after disappointment, some part of me still lights up when an old co-writer reappears. Because to me, collaborative writing is built on rare chemistry… and rare chemistry is difficult to throw away entirely.
So my feelings toward ghosting are not simple bitterness. It is more like mourning unfinished conversations while still leaving the door unlocked.
"so what is it really I am trying to convey?"
What I am really trying to convey is that stories matter to me because people matter to me.
I may hide it beneath humor, sarcasm, or exaggerated observations about roleplay culture, but underneath all of that is the simple truth that I become emotionally attached to the things I build with others. I do not experience collaborative writing as disposable content. I experience it as shared emotional space… something alive for however long two people continue breathing life into it together. (Thank you Sussie, Zny, Durai, and Bekah... you know who you are !!!!)
When I joke about abandoned threads, unfinished slow burns, or characters eternally staring out rain-covered windows, I am not only making fun of roleplay culture. I am grieving it a little too. Not dramatically… not bitterly… but honestly. I am acknowledging how strange it is that people can create something deeply intimate together through words alone, then disappear from each other’s lives without ceremony.
I am trying to convey that ghosting hurts less because of lost plots and more because of lost connection. The story itself is rarely the true loss. The real loss is the rhythm between two writers… the trust, anticipation, creativity, and understanding that slowly forms over time. A good co-writer begins to feel less like someone exchanging posts and more like someone sitting across from me in a quiet room… building something together piece by piece.
--- I am also trying to convey that I understand why people disappear.
--- I know life is exhausting. I know people become overwhelmed, anxious, insecure, emotionally drained, or afraid they have waited too long to come back.
--- I know silence is often rooted in guilt rather than cruelty.
That is why my tone carries melancholy instead of rage. I empathize even while feeling abandoned by the silence itself.
But beneath all of that… I think I am really trying to say that I remember.
And despite disappointment, despite ghosting, despite unfinished stories accumulating like abandoned houses in memory… some part of me still hopes people return. Because I still believe creative chemistry between two people is rare. Rare enough that even unfinished things continue lingering in me long after they stop moving.
So what I am truly conveying is not anger.
And it is the stubborn refusal to stop caring about stories… or the people behind them… even when they vanish into the abyss of real life.
"Where have the co-writers all gone?"
Into the great seasonal migration of roleplayers, most likely....
-- A few vanished into work schedules they swore were “temporary.”
-- A few found one hyper-fixation and disappeared into it like Victorian widows walking into the sea.
-- Some are sitting on half-written replies, rereading them every three days, adding one sentence, then closing the tab again because they want it to be perfect.
-- One probably started a new RP server instead of answering anything in the old one.
-- Another absolutely saw the notification, whispered “I need to reply to this properly,” and has now carried that guilt for six months.
-- A few found one hyper-fixation and disappeared into it like Victorian widows walking into the sea.
-- Some are sitting on half-written replies, rereading them every three days, adding one sentence, then closing the tab again because they want it to be perfect.
-- One probably started a new RP server instead of answering anything in the old one.
-- Another absolutely saw the notification, whispered “I need to reply to this properly,” and has now carried that guilt for six months.
And then there is the ancient curse of longform co-writing itself…
You spend weeks building devastating emotional tension, political intrigue, forbidden yearning, carefully restrained eye contact across candlelit rooms…
…and suddenly both writers are too emotionally exhausted to answer the scene where someone finally says “stay.”
…and suddenly both writers are too emotionally exhausted to answer the scene where someone finally says “stay.”
The Story Graveyard is full of:
-- beautifully plotted slow burns
-- unfinished train robberies
-- half-drafted confession letters
-- maps nobody will ever use
-- characters staring wistfully out rain-covered windows forever
Yet somehow, inexplicably, roleplayers always return. Usually at 2:13 AM with: “OMG I’M SO SORRY LIFE GOT CRAZY[… anyway here’s 4,000 words.”-- unfinished train robberies
-- half-drafted confession letters
-- maps nobody will ever use
-- characters staring wistfully out rain-covered windows forever
The above passage is:
-- partly comedy
-- partly affectionate satire
-- partly commentary on creative communities
-- and partly a small elegy for unfinished collaborative stories and the people who made them.
-- partly affectionate satire
-- partly commentary on creative communities
-- and partly a small elegy for unfinished collaborative stories and the people who made them.
What does this post say about me, as the writer?
It says that I care deeply about the things I create… perhaps more deeply than I always admit aloud.
I do not treat stories as disposable entertainment. I build them slowly, carefully… layering atmosphere, memory, emotional tension, and character until they begin to feel strangely alive to me. I become attached not only to the characters, but to the silences between them… the unfinished conversations… the moments waiting to happen. That is why abandoned threads linger in my mind long after they stop moving. They do not feel “dead” so much as suspended somewhere unfinished.
It says I understand the culture of longform, long-term co-writing intimately because I have lived inside it for decades.
-- I recognize the guilt of unanswered replies,
-- the exhaustion that follows emotional scenes,
-- the perfectionism that turns a simple response into something impossible to finish.
-- I know what it feels like to open a draft, stare at it for twenty minutes, write three lines, delete two, and promise myself I will “answer properly tomorrow.”
-- the exhaustion that follows emotional scenes,
-- the perfectionism that turns a simple response into something impossible to finish.
-- I know what it feels like to open a draft, stare at it for twenty minutes, write three lines, delete two, and promise myself I will “answer properly tomorrow.”
It says I romanticize creative connection a little… not necessarily in a naïve way, but in a deeply human one. I see collaborative writing as more than exchanging posts. To me, it becomes shared emotional architecture… two people building something neither could have created alone. That is why the disappearances feel oddly personal even when I understand real life comes first.
It says I notice beauty in unfinished things. Half-built worlds, abandoned maps, unresolved slow burns, characters left staring out windows forever… I do not only mourn them. I almost preserve them in memory. There is affection in the way I speak about them, even while joking.
It also says I cope through humor. Instead of bitterness, I turn frustration into wit, exaggeration, and shared recognition. The jokes work because they are true. Beneath them sits empathy… for myself, for co-writers, and for the strange emotional labor of storytelling.
And perhaps most of all… it says "I never fully stop believing people might come back".
Even after months of silence, some part of me still expects the notification:
“Sorry life got crazy…” …and I still know exactly which story they mean.
"And how do I feel about ghosting?"
I feel conflicted about ghosting… because part of me understands it completely, and another part of me quietly resents it anyway.
I know Real Life happens. Exhaustion happens. Depression, stress, work, family, burnout, fear of disappointing people… I understand all of that more than I probably let on. I know sometimes replying begins to feel heavier the longer it waits, until even opening the message carries guilt attached to it. I have likely disappeared emotionally from things before too, even if unintentionally. So I cannot pretend I view ghosting with pure anger or moral outrage.
But understanding something does not make it painless.
When I invest in a story, I invest sincerely. I spend time building atmosphere, emotional continuity, trust, rhythm… and I remember details. I remember unfinished scenes. I remember promises about future arcs, planned reveals, quiet moments characters never reached. So when someone vanishes without a word, it rarely feels like “just a hobby disappearing.” It feels more like a light shutting off in a room I was still sitting inside.
What bothers me most is usually not the absence itself… it is the silence. The uncertainty. The way ghosting leaves no ending, no context, no clear place to set the story down emotionally. A simple:
“I can’t continue”... would hurt less than endless ambiguity.
At the same time, I do not truly hate the people who ghost.
If anything, I often imagine reasons for them. I wonder if they became overwhelmed… if they felt guilty… if they meant to return and waited too long. I humanize them instead of villainizing them. That is probably why the feeling becomes melancholic rather than angry.
And despite everything… I remain strangely receptive to return. Even after frustration, even after disappointment, some part of me still lights up when an old co-writer reappears. Because to me, collaborative writing is built on rare chemistry… and rare chemistry is difficult to throw away entirely.
So my feelings toward ghosting are not simple bitterness. It is more like mourning unfinished conversations while still leaving the door unlocked.
"so what is it really I am trying to convey?"
What I am really trying to convey is that stories matter to me because people matter to me.
I may hide it beneath humor, sarcasm, or exaggerated observations about roleplay culture, but underneath all of that is the simple truth that I become emotionally attached to the things I build with others. I do not experience collaborative writing as disposable content. I experience it as shared emotional space… something alive for however long two people continue breathing life into it together. (Thank you Sussie, Zny, Durai, and Bekah... you know who you are !!!!)
When I joke about abandoned threads, unfinished slow burns, or characters eternally staring out rain-covered windows, I am not only making fun of roleplay culture. I am grieving it a little too. Not dramatically… not bitterly… but honestly. I am acknowledging how strange it is that people can create something deeply intimate together through words alone, then disappear from each other’s lives without ceremony.
I am trying to convey that ghosting hurts less because of lost plots and more because of lost connection. The story itself is rarely the true loss. The real loss is the rhythm between two writers… the trust, anticipation, creativity, and understanding that slowly forms over time. A good co-writer begins to feel less like someone exchanging posts and more like someone sitting across from me in a quiet room… building something together piece by piece.
--- I am also trying to convey that I understand why people disappear.
--- I know life is exhausting. I know people become overwhelmed, anxious, insecure, emotionally drained, or afraid they have waited too long to come back.
--- I know silence is often rooted in guilt rather than cruelty.
That is why my tone carries melancholy instead of rage. I empathize even while feeling abandoned by the silence itself.
But beneath all of that… I think I am really trying to say that I remember.
--- I remember the worlds.
--- I remember the conversations about future scenes.
--- I remember the emotional beats we planned but never reached.
--- I remember the atmosphere, the tension, the tiny details someone else may have forgotten entirely.
--- I remember the conversations about future scenes.
--- I remember the emotional beats we planned but never reached.
--- I remember the atmosphere, the tension, the tiny details someone else may have forgotten entirely.
And despite disappointment, despite ghosting, despite unfinished stories accumulating like abandoned houses in memory… some part of me still hopes people return. Because I still believe creative chemistry between two people is rare. Rare enough that even unfinished things continue lingering in me long after they stop moving.
So what I am truly conveying is not anger.
--- It is attachment.
--- It is longing.
--- It is quiet disappointment softened by understanding.
--- It is longing.
--- It is quiet disappointment softened by understanding.
And it is the stubborn refusal to stop caring about stories… or the people behind them… even when they vanish into the abyss of real life.
This really speaks to me, because all of my roleplays that are unfinished (most because of ghosting) go into a folder called "The Abyss."
I can't pretend I have never ghosted anyone before, either unintentionally or because I lost my muse/interest/lost track of time and felt too guilty for a while before I worked up the courage to come back. But I rarely don't respond at all to someone, sooner or later. At the same time, I get it. Real life really sucks sometimes, it's heavy, and it's kept me from roleplay many times.
For years I have engaged in this hobby, since I was a child, and I'm 40 now. Being ghosted angers me sometimes, but then I remember that anger is a secondary emotion. Anger often stems from sadness, from being upset. For a long time after the story falls off, I think about what it might have become. Some of those unfinished stories, I add to the history of my character to the best of my ability. Others, I have allowed to fade.
I have folders in my inbox for finished roleplays, and there are no more than ten finished roleplays in there even though I've been on this site for maybe ten years now? I am a lurker for sure, and I've been on and off. Sometimes, I look through my unfinished roleplays with regret or irritation, but usually it's also just disappointment softened with understanding. If most of them suddenly came back to life, I'd happily pick them back up again.
However, I still find myself coming back to roleplay, to trying to make stories and write with other people. Within my 'The Abyss' folder there are so many potential alliances, intense relationships, unfinished assassinations, characters that will never achieve their goals, adventures frozen in place, plots that will never unfold. But I'm still gonna keep roleplaying, because it's something I've done since I was 14 and because I love to write.
I can't pretend I have never ghosted anyone before, either unintentionally or because I lost my muse/interest/lost track of time and felt too guilty for a while before I worked up the courage to come back. But I rarely don't respond at all to someone, sooner or later. At the same time, I get it. Real life really sucks sometimes, it's heavy, and it's kept me from roleplay many times.
For years I have engaged in this hobby, since I was a child, and I'm 40 now. Being ghosted angers me sometimes, but then I remember that anger is a secondary emotion. Anger often stems from sadness, from being upset. For a long time after the story falls off, I think about what it might have become. Some of those unfinished stories, I add to the history of my character to the best of my ability. Others, I have allowed to fade.
I have folders in my inbox for finished roleplays, and there are no more than ten finished roleplays in there even though I've been on this site for maybe ten years now? I am a lurker for sure, and I've been on and off. Sometimes, I look through my unfinished roleplays with regret or irritation, but usually it's also just disappointment softened with understanding. If most of them suddenly came back to life, I'd happily pick them back up again.
However, I still find myself coming back to roleplay, to trying to make stories and write with other people. Within my 'The Abyss' folder there are so many potential alliances, intense relationships, unfinished assassinations, characters that will never achieve their goals, adventures frozen in place, plots that will never unfold. But I'm still gonna keep roleplaying, because it's something I've done since I was 14 and because I love to write.
Playerfiles wrote:
Another absolutely saw the notification, whispered “I need to reply to this properly,” and has now carried that guilt for six months
Where's that "I'm in this picture and I don't like it" meme when you need it? '^v^
I'm about to actually FINALLY write the reply I've been sitting on most, though, I'm so excited.
Also, hi, JustaBitEvil, this is about our RP and your reply here is what made me see this thread and feel extremely called out.
For "JustaBitEvil"
What strikes me most about this is how little bitterness there actually is in your words despite the disappointment. You’re honest about the frustration, but you still speak about these unfinished stories with a kind of quiet affection… almost like abandoned places you still remember the layout of years later.
I do too... I have "just about" every story in Word (old or new format)... and I reflect back to those forgotten tomes., and I see just hoiw far I have developed as a writer... and Yes I say... "Oh crap, I wrote that sh*t?"
I think that’s what people outside of longform roleplay often don’t understand. The loss usually isn’t just “a hobby project ending.” It’s the loss of momentum, chemistry, shared imagination, and all the unwritten moments that existed between two people for a while. Even unfinished stories become part of us writers somehow.
Your line about adding some unfinished plots into your character’s history really stayed with me too. There’s something strangely beautiful about that… like refusing to let those stories vanish completely just because they never reached an ending. Some things still shape us even unfinished.
Sorry, memories took over.... Back to your post... And honestly… the fact that you still come back to roleplay after all these years says everything. It means the joy of creating still outweighs the disappointment.
That is probably the real reason most of us keep returning to this hobby despite “The Abyss” folders full of frozen worlds and unresolved stories.
I think every longform writer eventually develops a kind of melancholy acceptance about it all… disappointment softened by understanding, exactly as you said.
For Avitrathephoenix
Apologies if you felt "called out" but if the result is a continued RP story between 2 writers... , then consider yourself "called out"....
What strikes me most about this is how little bitterness there actually is in your words despite the disappointment. You’re honest about the frustration, but you still speak about these unfinished stories with a kind of quiet affection… almost like abandoned places you still remember the layout of years later.
I do too... I have "just about" every story in Word (old or new format)... and I reflect back to those forgotten tomes., and I see just hoiw far I have developed as a writer... and Yes I say... "Oh crap, I wrote that sh*t?"
I think that’s what people outside of longform roleplay often don’t understand. The loss usually isn’t just “a hobby project ending.” It’s the loss of momentum, chemistry, shared imagination, and all the unwritten moments that existed between two people for a while. Even unfinished stories become part of us writers somehow.
Your line about adding some unfinished plots into your character’s history really stayed with me too. There’s something strangely beautiful about that… like refusing to let those stories vanish completely just because they never reached an ending. Some things still shape us even unfinished.
LOL. I wasn't laughing at what you said, but what I have done... to this day, I still have several characters with a "+1" Want Ad because their story were so imbedded in me with a writing partner, that when she left the RP forum, I did not wish to give up on that pair... needless to say, no one wanted to take those "Want Ads".
Sorry, memories took over.... Back to your post... And honestly… the fact that you still come back to roleplay after all these years says everything. It means the joy of creating still outweighs the disappointment.
That is probably the real reason most of us keep returning to this hobby despite “The Abyss” folders full of frozen worlds and unresolved stories.
I think every longform writer eventually develops a kind of melancholy acceptance about it all… disappointment softened by understanding, exactly as you said.
For Avitrathephoenix
Quote:
"Also, hi, JustaBitEvil, this is about our RP and your reply here is what made me see this thread and feel extremely called out.
Apologies if you felt "called out" but if the result is a continued RP story between 2 writers... , then consider yourself "called out"....
I think you captured just about everything in your post Playerfiles. I 'get' most of what you presented. I have been on both sides of the wall.
Ceasing to get replies is sometimes tough, especially when it is a deep story, but I've dropped the ball here too a few times. Losing the ability to 'be' inside a particular character's head to write a reply has always troubled me. It just happens. To memories of the stories who's ending has slipped off the edge and into the void.
Ceasing to get replies is sometimes tough, especially when it is a deep story, but I've dropped the ball here too a few times. Losing the ability to 'be' inside a particular character's head to write a reply has always troubled me. It just happens. To memories of the stories who's ending has slipped off the edge and into the void.
Honestly, part of this is the whole reason I don’t want a real-time slow burn!
I've definitely put off roleplays, including mine and Avi's before, specifically because I knew I'd need to be in a certain headspace to answer it. I'd need to be in the 'mood' of the character, the scene and I'd also need some time to myself to sit down and focus on it. Sometimes it's like the planets just need to align if my mental health is in a nadir of sorts.
Playerfiles, there was a time when I would feel some anger or annoyance over being ghosted, maybe it's because I've grown to expect it, but I've learned to move on and try to look back fondly on what myself and my roleplay partner created. A lot of roleplays that helped me to shape my characters have gone unfinished, and I was unwilling to set aside the development that my character had gone through. And it's also because I do feel a fondness for those stories, I want them to persevere.
Playerfiles, there was a time when I would feel some anger or annoyance over being ghosted, maybe it's because I've grown to expect it, but I've learned to move on and try to look back fondly on what myself and my roleplay partner created. A lot of roleplays that helped me to shape my characters have gone unfinished, and I was unwilling to set aside the development that my character had gone through. And it's also because I do feel a fondness for those stories, I want them to persevere.
Playerfiles wrote:
For Avitrathephoenix
Apologies if you felt "called out" but if the result is a continued RP story between 2 writers... , then consider yourself "called out"....
I happened to be dealing with it anyway, but having a li'l bit of a fire set under me didn't hurt. ~v^
I have been reluctant to answer this thread, as it affects me. I can tell you, I shed a tear reading Playerfiles manifesto.
That all sounding so appealing, especially me with my little doe. That plague Lizbeth has now been around here for something over a year, with ups and downs. I have that same 'Abyss' folder stipulating "Ghost", I believe to know what it means to everyone, when it says "Ghost (1)" in your inbox, I don't have to explain.
I'm honest saying that I only 'ghost' myself one person, but I don't want to stop that connection. It's something weird, I admit, but yet it's something sincere. If ever I should have ghosted anyone else, be sure that it was not meant and not intentional.
As said, all this affected me for real, my writing does something with me, my doe makes me shiver and tremble, I can't say else. And when co-writers disappear without warning, without message or reason, well, yes, it makes me sad. Weren't I good enough, did I say/write something wrong, is my doe coming with false expectations...
I rather accept someone saying, 'I'm not into furries', clear direct and a reason. I'm not angry if it is so, I can say not to be angry when I get ghosted, still it affects me. Is it frustration? Maybe... Is it loss of esteem? Can be, even self-esteem... Is it sad? For sure...
See all this goes into me so deep, I blubber undefinable incomprehensible things into some pile-up of words that loose all sense.
Sorry
That all sounding so appealing, especially me with my little doe. That plague Lizbeth has now been around here for something over a year, with ups and downs. I have that same 'Abyss' folder stipulating "Ghost", I believe to know what it means to everyone, when it says "Ghost (1)" in your inbox, I don't have to explain.
I'm honest saying that I only 'ghost' myself one person, but I don't want to stop that connection. It's something weird, I admit, but yet it's something sincere. If ever I should have ghosted anyone else, be sure that it was not meant and not intentional.
As said, all this affected me for real, my writing does something with me, my doe makes me shiver and tremble, I can't say else. And when co-writers disappear without warning, without message or reason, well, yes, it makes me sad. Weren't I good enough, did I say/write something wrong, is my doe coming with false expectations...
I rather accept someone saying, 'I'm not into furries', clear direct and a reason. I'm not angry if it is so, I can say not to be angry when I get ghosted, still it affects me. Is it frustration? Maybe... Is it loss of esteem? Can be, even self-esteem... Is it sad? For sure...
See all this goes into me so deep, I blubber undefinable incomprehensible things into some pile-up of words that loose all sense.
Sorry
So I keep typing and then deleting what I want to say, because nothing can come out the right way.
I get frustrated and angry because you brought out so much unresolved emotions. Anger, resentment, frustration, ect. All because you decided to spill your own feelings into something that majority of us have gone through, are going through, and will go through.
So all I can really say is this is so beautifully written and how freaking dare you yank at our heartstrings!
I get frustrated and angry because you brought out so much unresolved emotions. Anger, resentment, frustration, ect. All because you decided to spill your own feelings into something that majority of us have gone through, are going through, and will go through.
So all I can really say is this is so beautifully written and how freaking dare you yank at our heartstrings!
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