Real World TV RPG

[Miss Piggy is sitting on the chair, looking at the camera as if she wants to make love to it. She is wearing a blue dress which looks surprisingly like a blue t-shirt for a human but with the sleeves pinned up on her shoulders and a thick black belt around her waist. Where she got the shirt that hung long enough to cover her knees, or the materials to pin the sleeves up and make the belt are a mystery, but Miss Piggy is a resourceful pig.]

Hello, TV land. [She giggles innocently.] It is moi, Miss Piggy, again coming to tell you how things have been. I have been getting along very well, of course. I have always been known for moi friendly and open person-al-i-ty! There was a bit of a crisis about what they expected moi to wear, but as you can see I have created something tre chic!

[Miss Piggy hops off the chair and turns one way, and then the other, letting the camera get a full look at the best piece of fashion in the house. Her modeling is professional and perfect, and the garment looks wonderful. She looks wonderful.]

There is no problem moi cannot solve!

[There is a loud slam as a figure in a black duster comes partially into frame and then stalks several times past the screen with unintelligible grumbles and curses. His hands begin to move like he's having a conversation with some inner demon and just needed the privacy of the booth to say his piece. A spark of flame erupts as he lights a cigarette. After the cigarette waves in the air for a moment, leaving frenzied smoke signals in its wake, Spike finally peers into the confessional camera from entirely too close, his irritated face taking up most of the screen.]

I'm only in here so I don't punch Angel in his fat, smug face. Carry on.

[He straightens again, so that all the viewers can see is his torso and the occasional puff of smoke as he paces two or three steps, turns and heads back to his starting point. Once the cigarette is merely a smoldering butt, he stamps it out on the ground and exits much the way he entered.]

WHO: Angel and Buffy.
WHAT: A talk about the future.
WHEN: Day 2, after dark.
WHERE: Outside.
STATUS: In progress. Will contain spoilers for all of Buffy and Angel.

( Time to talk. )

WHO: Dean Winchester (Supernatural) and Morgana (Merlin)
WHAT: A chance meeting.
WHEN: Second day in the house.
WHERE: The bar area.
RATING/STATUS: Low-ish?/In progress.

( I must have been out of my freakin' mind. )

[The camera opens on Don Draper, staring into the lens and smoking a cigarette. For a moment it appears as though Don may say something, but instead he blows out a long stream of smoke. About thirty seconds pass before Don takes another drag, gets up, and walks out of the room.]

I guess I'm excited to be here. I get some time off from work and... you know, from Scranton. Some of my friends are here and I get a chance to win some money for my wedding. Those of you who don't know, I'm getting married to my fiance Roy on June 10th and I figured, why not? It can't be worse than answering phones.

And things certainly are different. Though working with Michael is sometimes sort of like working with a cartoon character... or a baby. Or even, a cartoon baby.

[The camera opens on a nervous man around the age of thirty as he slowly looks around the confessional booth. Despite the lovely climate-controlled house, he is wearing a thin running jacket, which is over a thin sweater with an awful pattern and that is over a button down shirt. It is a few more seconds before he actually looks at the camera and when he speaks, it is obvious that he is a native of the country of India, though is accent does seem to be strongly stereotypical.]


There are a lot of pretty women here. Many apologies to my liver in advance.


[He looks scared at this statement and a moment after his confession, he leans downward out of view, returning a few seconds later with a 40 of beer in his hand. Sighing, he fumbles with the cap a few times before popping it off and letting it fall to the floor. He then holds up the bottle to the camera as if to say 'cheers' and starts to chug it as he gets off the chair, exiting the confessional a moment later.]

Who: Miss Piggy
What: Confession boothing
When: A few minutes after arrival


Miss Piggy marched daintily into the confession booth and closed the door behind her. She lifted herself gently into the chair, remembering to keep the seemingly random piece of blue cloth wrapped around her neck like a scarf in its proper place. After a brief adjustment in the chair she looked at the camera and smiled, her eyes bright, her face award winning.

“Hello,” she giggled a little, “I am so please to be here. I look forward to working with all of these interesting people.” Miss Piggy motioned with a gloved hand to the door she just entered through, where people continue to mill around unseen. “I hope this experience will be a pleasant one. I am sure it will. Blue has always been moi favorite color.” She kept her eyes on the camera, hoping the audience is seeing how blue and vibrant they are, and how amazing she was going to look in blue.

She giggled again, coyly. “And I hope everyone out there in TV land will support me. I always do whatever I can to fulfill the needs of moi public.” Another giggle.

Someone knocked on the door she entered, even beginning to open it. In a swift move, Miss Piggy slammed the door back shut with a mighty power. “I’M IN HERE!”

The person on the other side seemed to have gotten the clue and disturbed her no more. Miss Piggy turned back to the camera, smiled again. “Thank you for watching. Let’s have fun.”