Random Blog

I created a list of random German slang from a video game to help people in conversation. I’ll make a second list some other time.

VERBS

alles im Griff haben - to have everything under control

am Arsch sein - to be screwed

aus dem Weg schaffen - to get something out of the way (i.e. a problem)

bekannt machen - to introduce [people]

fremd sein - to not be from the area

die Geduld verlieren - to lose patience

herumtreiben - to hang about somewhere

sich raushalten - to stay out of someone’s business

schief gehen - to go wrong [a situation]

umhören - to ask around

verarschen - to take the piss

verrecken - to die [coll.]

NOUNS

die Bullen - the cops

die Jungs - guys

der Kerl (-e) - man [coll.]

der Pechvogel (ö) - unlucky person

der Verrückter (te) - lunatic

der Versager - loser

LITTLE WORDS

als Gegenleistung - in return

gewissen __ - certain __ [person]

in der Tat - as a matter of fact

namens __ - called __

neuerdings - in recent times

so ziemlich __ - pretty much __

umsonst - for nothing

viel los - busy/crowded

PHRASES / SAYINGS

ich bin dabei - i’m in [a deal]

lass das - don’t do that

mach keine Witze über __ - don’t joke about __

man sieht sich - see you around

pass auf dich auf - be careful

rat mal - just guess

reden wir über was anderes - let’s change subject

schon okay - that’s alright

verdammt richtig - damn right

verzieh dich! - get lost!

weißt du was, __ - tell you what, __

wenn es sein muss - if need be

wer weiß das schon? - who knows?

wie wäre es mit __ ? - how about __ ?

winking

clenching

pulsing

fluttering

contracting

twitching

sucking

quivering

pulsating

throbbing

beating

thumping

thudding

pounding

humming

palpitate

vibrate

grinding

crushing

hammering

lashing

knocking

driving

thrusting

pushing

force

injecting

filling

dilate

stretching

lingering

expanding

bouncing

reaming

elongate

enlarge

unfolding

yielding

sternly

firmly

tightly 

harshly

thoroughly

consistently

precision

accuracy

carefully

demanding

strictly

restriction

meticulously

scrupulously

rigorously

rim

edge

lip

circle

band

encircling

enclosing

surrounding

piercing

curl

lock

twist

coil

spiral

whorl

dip

wet

soak

madly

wildly

noisily

rowdily

rambunctiously

decadent

degenerate

immoral

indulgent

accept

take

invite

nook

indentation

niche

depression

indent

depress

delay

tossing

writhing

flailing

squirming

rolling

wriggling

wiggling

thrashing

struggling

grappling

striving

Arouse -  agitate, awaken, electrify, enliven, excite, entice, foment, goad, incite, inflame, instigate, kindle, provoke, rally, rouse, spark, stimulate, stir, thrill, waken, warm, whet, attract, charm, coax, fire up, fuel, heat up, lure, produce, stir up, tantalize, tease, tempt, thrum, torment, wind up, work up

i. capricious - being unstable, unpredictable in changes of mood and/or behavior

ii. luminescent - the giving and presence of light not from a heat source

iii. incandescent - passionate, radiant, brilliant; may also mean light given from a heat source

iv. equestrian - of or relating to horse riding

v. repartee - banter or conversation, usually characterized by wit or snark

vi. altruistic - unselfish, concerned and invested in others

vii. ensconce - to place in a comfortable space

viii. avarice - essentially greed, usually a very strong want

ix. myriad - many, countless

x. predilection - a bias, or simply a preference for one thing over another

xi. ameliorate - to improve uponsomething, to make something originally bad, better

xii. eclectic - wide ranging, diverse, from all around

Have their ideals be right but their methods be wrong

Make it seem like their dastardly methods are really the only way to achieve the goal for the “greater good.”

Have them develop from a flat antagonist to a well-rounded protagonist

How to not write a morally gray character

I have been in a blindingly white room for three hours, patiently waiting for them to clear me so I could get my memories. There is only a singular chair. It is a small room, but it is comfortable for a single person. Tall as well. Three of the walls are made of steel, while the last one has one way glass and a door next to it. It's suspicious, but I haven't given it much thought.

I stumble to the circle of light on the ground, worried and excited all the same. "Now is my moment! All my questions will have answers!" I thought to myself. I stand there for a moment or two before the voice comes back.

"Stand still. In a few seconds, a machine will fall from the ceiling above you. It is your job to attach it securely, however, nothing will happen if you misplace it or put it on too loosely. We'll just try again," the man directed. And as he said, the machine fell. It looked like a brain scanner someone might see in some sci-fi television show. It has wires lining the top, little pads attached to the places where the wires connect, and there was a strap with lights that are currently turned off. I reach into the air and grab it, feeling the cold steel and copper against my warm skin. I pull it onto my head and pull the strap under my chin, tightening it so that it didn't wiggle. I can feel my anxiety in the stomach, rising to my lungs. My heartbeat increases as the seconds pass, and I stand there, unable to make a clear thought. And I wait.

"Good. Now, stand there and wait. You will feel a sudden shock and you will feel light-headed, most likely for a long time. This is normal. You will begin to remember things. You will begin to understand things. You will begin to live as yourself." Once again, I listen intently to the voice. I don't know what's behind the glass or what he looks like, but all I know is that I'm ready for this. I'm ready to know who I am.

A second passes. And another second. And another. I begin to get more anxious. I don't know what to expect. And then it comes. It hurt. It felt as if my head was beginning to fill with air and then empty, just to be filled up once more. I remember random things. Third grade, I pulled Sandy's hair so hard that there was a glob that I pulled out. Seventh grade, I kicked a desk on accident and broke it. Summer after eight grade, I had my first kiss. Winter of eleventh grade, I lost my virginity. I wrecked my car when I was nineteen. I went to Washington University. My pet cat is named Ganymede. I was twenty one when the memory loss happened. I am in another country from my house. Is Ganymede okay? I have a tendency to crack my knuckles one by one. I mostly drink lemonade and eat cheeseburgers. I'm not good with money, as I spend it all on fast food. I lost my job two weeks before the memory loss. My mother's maiden name is Cagle.

I am Troy Earnhardt.

My head hurts and the lights in the room begin to burn my eyes, but I notice they're slowly lowering. I grab my head as more and more memories come back to me, but then all of a sudden, it stops. I stand up straight. I feel different, even now. My weight is predominately on my left foot, nearer to the inside of my foot than my outside, which is odd since after the memory loss, I had always walked with the weight in my right foot. I also notice my breathing is slower and quieter than I remembered.

But one thing came back to me before all of it stopped. The last memory I remembered before the memory loss. My previous boss who worked in the data companies called me and told me to be careful.

"I cannot tell you anything. Just, know that I tried. I tried, okay? But I too will be a victim. Don't forget this," I remembered him sobbing. At the time, I had no idea what he meant. I still do not, but it makes me feel really uncomfortable.

"That's it. Troy, you will go back to your family a new man. I hope this satisfies you," the man calmly says. The com goes silent, and the door slowly swings open on its own. I take off the device and watch it as it gets reeled back into its hiding spot. Once the hidden panels close back once more, I start for the door. I was told I cannot drive once this gets done, so someone will have to drive me. I can see why I'm not allowed to. The whole world is spinning around me, and nothing looks as it should. My legs feel weird, as if they haven't been used in a long time, despite the fact that I had been using them all three years since the memory loss. I feel new and refreshed, but groggy and slow.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It has been three days since I discovered who I am. I'm still getting used to the name again. Troy. Previously, I was just known as Blue Eyes. I still remember how I was given that nickname. The moment we all woke up, we struggled to move and breathe, not even remembering how to do that. We fell to our instincts, but men came down and gave us knowledge of language and culture. Nothing more, nothing less. We didn't even remember our history. But when we were given our language back, a woman across from me was working on her English when she looked at me and yelled "Blue eyes!" We stayed with each other, and I helped her with her sentences, but each time she looked at me, she always yelled blue eyes again. It eventually stuck. She was named Grey Eyes to fit with me. Her and I married, and she continued to call me Blue Eyes. All our friends eventually caught on.

Grey is a fair woman, around my age from the looks of it. She is a few inches shorter than me, putting her around five foot five, and she is always light on her feet. She isn't hyper, but she is always prepared to move. She is understanding and kind, always forgiving me for my mistakes. Her wavy hair is brown, and originally around her shoulders, but she let it grow out, and now it comes down to the middle of her back. She has a large bust and large hips, which originally caught the attention of my primal instincts. Grey pays very close attention to her weight, but not one soul could claim that she's fat.

I had no idea how I would tell Grey about my past and my present and my ideas for my future, but it just all came out the moment I walked in the door. She was happy for me, and she was even happier that I did not have a significant other before the memory loss. That's her main reason for not wanting to get her memory checked. She's afraid she will no longer love me. I still love her, thankfully. When I told her about the call with my previous boss, however, she told me to stop and she got worried.

"I don't know. I want you to continue, but that sounds really fishy. I don't like it," Grey voiced. I don't disagree with her. It's been on my mind ever since she said it. "I shouldn't throw something wild out into the air-"

"No, it's okay! Say what you think; I don't know what to make of it. It would be nice to have a second opinion!" I interrupt with genuine curiosity.

"Okay, well... I think... I think the data companies may have... Well, I don't know. Maybe they're the ones who did this to us?" Gesturing towards her head. It was the same conclusion I don't want to admit I share. I told her to drop it for now, as it didn't make much of a difference to us. But that was three days ago. And this is now. It's been bugging both of us.

"I know it's likely. But why would they?" I started with her.

"Biggest thing we need. Money. It's something we all need. So, why not take everyone's memory and sell it back to them?"

"That would make sense. Plus, they all remembered that they work for the data companies. They remember how to work their machines. They remember everything, but it's all so easy to them. As far as I remember, we had a different president three years ago. That one - Jerico Malisky - I haven't seen him in the public eye. I don't think even he remembers who he is. That goes to show that it wasn't a government experiment. So who caused it? Why are the data companies so privileged? What's up?" I question out loud.

"I have no idea. It all adds up, doesn't it? But if it is up to them, why does no one say it out loud? Why hasn't someone come out and said it already?" Grey deepens.

We are sitting in our living room on our brown couch, surrounded by three chairs and a television in front of us on the wall. There is a door to our left that lead to the main hall of the house, and to the right is the door to the back yard. I hear our dog barking in the distance. The room is bland, painted with whites and light browns. I look around once more, still trying to distinguish the memories of before and after the memory loss.

It occurs to me that the data companies have the freedom to choose whatever memories we receive. That they get to stifle through our memories to check if it's acceptable. And if that's the case, why did they allow the phone call to pass?

After vocalizing my thoughts, Grey suggests they were too tired or too bored, or maybe didn't even think it was important. But no matter what, I still got it, and I still have to act upon it.

And so we planned. For a week we talked about what we would do and how we would get the message out. But on the sixth day, Grey slipped and told one of her friends what we've been doing. Their friend agreed, but something felt bad after that. On the last day of that week, we finally decided to act.

It was a beautiful Saturday that day. It was the first sunny day we have seen in months, and the air was no longer as chilly as it had been. Winter was coming to an end. We wake up, get breakfast, and we stay at home until around five in the afternoon. That's the busiest time of day.

"Are you ready?" I whisper to her as my hand rests on the doorknob. We are going to open the door and immediately begin to shout and throw papers with proof at everyone and everything.

"I'm ready to take down a tyrant. Let's do this. I love you." Grey responds confidently.

"I love you too." I swing the door wide open.

Just to be met by two men in suits and glasses, straight from an FBI movie. Half a second later, I feel a shock under my rib cage, accompanied by a sharp, stabbing pain. I screamed in pain, but then I realized I was making no sound. I look over at Grey, and the same thing happened to her. I looked back again, my eyes watering, pain being shot throughout my body.

"We can't let you do this. You know too much."

Everybody has that character, sometimes they’re good problem solvers, other times they’re omniscient, but everyone has the smart one.

The main two types of intelligence is Knowledge vs Speed. You can figure out which a character is by asking this question: When they have their “smart” moments, would an average person know what the hell they’re talking about? If yes, they’re fast, if not, they’re knowledgeable.

A knowledgeable person will be:

An expert in their field.

Possessing of heavenly/otherworldly knowledge.

Know how to do whatever the plot requires.

The one with seven PHDs

Think:

Up above are fabulous characters, when they’re having a “smart moment” they spout rapid fire space/medical jargon to emphasise just how smart they are. No one can fully understand their thought process, (and everyone who can is getting offended because TV is ridiculously inaccurate).

A quick person will be:

A rapid problem solver.

The fastest learner in the history of learning.

Able to come to conclusions anyone with common sense could come to, just in a millisecond.

The world champion of brain teaser games and riddles.

Think:

Now you may say the characters up above do have specialised knowledge, rightly so. But more often than not they’re basing their smartness on stuff the audience has already seen. This makes the audience feel stupid when they explain their reasoning, while also being more in awe at how fast they’ve figured it out. 

Think of this Sherlock deduction: “The wedding ring, ten years old at least. The rest of her jewellery has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring - state of her marriage, right there.” No sciencey words, no mention of Sphenopalatine ganglioneuralgia, a logically sound deduction that the audience can understand. 

Many people mention their fast characters as knowledgeable, sure, Sherlock is an expert chemist, but the majority of his deductions use common sense. And sure, House is sharp and quick-witted, but the majority of his deductions are based on his extensive medical knowledge.