4 Creator
The rhythmic rumble of the bus lulled Arell into a doze. He dreamt of soaring melodies and pulsating beats, a stark contrast to the cramped bus seat and the snores emanating from his fellow passengers. He awoke to the harsh glare of the overhead light and the announcement, "Next stop, Atlanta! Please gather your belongings."
A jolt ran through Arell. He nudged his friends awake, their tired faces morphing into ones mirroring their excitement. Kenny the tallest of the group, standing at six foot two stretched his lanky limbs, he happened to be only three inches taller than Arell, who stood at five eleven, or six foot as he claimed, was the first to get out of his seat.
"Looks like we made it, fellas. Welcome to ATL." Malik, the resident hype man, stirred in his seat. "I'm dying to see what Arell's old Uncle's place is looking like."
Arell flashed a confident smile. "Well, let's head over there," he said, tapping the screen hovering by his side. Invisible to everyone else, the holographic display pulsed with a soft blue light. Internally, though, his mind raced with the possibilities the system offered. 'With the money and the studio access, I'm all set to begin as soon as I reach the apartment,' he thought. 'Speaking of the system, I need to activate the Architect as soon as possible.'
The thought triggered a new message on the display:
[The Architect]
"Alright, guys," he announced, his voice cutting through the background chatter. "Let's grab our stuff and head out. But before we get to the apartment, I need a few minutes alone to…" he paused, searching for the right words, "to speak with my Uncle's lawyer."
His friends exchanged confused glances, but Devon, ever perceptive, simply nodded. "You got it, Arell."
With a grateful nod, Arell shouldered his backpack and exited the bus with his friends following close behind. The Atlanta heat slapped him in the face, a thick, humid blanket that clung to his skin. The cacophony of the city washed over him – honking horns, street vendors hawking their wares, and the rhythmic thrumming of bass from a nearby club. It was a far cry from the sterile silence of their prison cells.
He found a quiet corner amidst the bustle, away from the prying eyes of his friends. Mentally focusing on the screen, a message materialized:
[Hello, Host, are you ready to begin creating the Architect?]
A wave of nervous excitement washed over Arell as he stared at the screen. Taking a deep breath, he focused back on the screen and willed the message forward. A series of prompts materialized, each one designed to personalize the Architect.
Appearance:
Gender: … (Choose One)
Age: … (Choose One)
Style: …. (Choose One)
Name:…..(Choose One)
Arell hesitated. The system offered a range of choices, but none quite fit the image he had in mind. He closed his eyes, picturing the ideal person. A figure emerged – someone with a commanding presence, yet not intimidating. Someone who could navigate the high-powered world of music while remaining grounded.
A memory flickered – his father. A man with a booming laugh and a larger-than-life personality. The image, however, was quickly replaced by a surge of anger. His father, the one who had walked out when Arell was just a kid, leaving a gaping hole in his life that others struggled to fill.
The anger subsided, replaced by a wave of sadness. The Architect couldn't be a reminder of that painful past. He needed someone who would be there for him, someone reliable.
Suddenly, an image popped into his head – Geoffrey, the sophisticated butler from the old sitcom "Fresh Prince of Bel-Air." A wry smile touched Arell's lips. He remembered sitting down at his old, rundown aunt's home, patiently waiting at the box-shaped TV for the next episode of Fresh Prince to air. Geoffrey, with his impeccable manners and dry wit, had always been a source of amusement and, in a strange way, a source of stability in that chaotic show.
"That's it, i suppose I'll name him Geoffrey as well...Geoffrey…..Rose, I'll say we also happen to be related," he murmured, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. He tapped the selections, a clear vision forming in his mind. While Geoffrey remained his inspiration for the character, he was unfortunately…less than intimidating in terms of appearance. Instead, he went for something different. His ideal character being a light-toned, bald-headed British man, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, with a pair of sharp eyes that truly captured Arell's attention – sharp and intelligent, with a glint of amusement that hinted at a dry wit. This wasn't just someone who could navigate boardrooms; he could disarm opponents with a well-timed quip and a raised eyebrow.
With a confident smile, he tapped his selections, solidifying his choices:
Gender: Male (Chosen)
Age: Mature (Chosen)
Style: Professional.. (Chosen)
Name: Geoffrey Rose (Chosen)
The next prompt appeared:
[Would you like to see a reference image for further customization? (Yes/No)]
Arell felt good about his vision, but a sliver of doubt crept in. Was it too generic? He tapped 'Yes,' curious to see if anything materialized that matched his mental image.
The screen flickered and a holographic image shimmered into existence. A man materialized, looking every bit the part Arell envisioned. He was bald, with a slightly longer face structure than Arell initially imagined, and a hint of a strong jawline. While his eyes held that same glint of amusement.
Arell stared, a flicker of recognition sparking in his mind. The face was… familiar. He leaned closer, scrutinizing the image. Then it hit him the figure bore an uncanny resemblance to a famous actor – Jason Statham, only without the hair and with a slightly different facial structure.
A chuckle escaped his lips. Here he was, trying to create someone unique, and the system had spat out a someone who could pass for a Hollywood star's long lost brother, it was almost comical.
"Interesting," he murmured, a playful glint in his eyes. While the resemblance was undeniable, there were enough subtle differences that it wasn't a perfect copy. He liked the base the system had provided, but he wanted to add a touch more personality.
"Make the eyes a touch warmer," he instructed the system. "And maybe a thin scar along his left eyebrow. Something subtle, but that hints at a story."
The holographic image flickered again, and the man's eyes softened slightly, losing a bit of the steely glint. The addition of the faint scar gave him a touch of lived experience, a hint of a past that wasn't all polished suits and boardrooms.
"Perfect," Arell said with satisfaction as he admired his creation, a warm feeling stirring in his stomach as he felt a sense of accomplishment for making the next step in his progression.
A list of skills scrolled across the screen, each accompanied by a brief description:
Music Production (Essential!)
Legal Knowledge (Would be a huge help avoiding hiring a lawyer…)
Negotiation (Key for getting the best deals)
Strategic Planning (They needed a roadmap to success)
Street Smarts & Combat Training (Don't doubt the Baldy)
Management (Keeping everything organized would be crucial)
[Architect Initialization in Progress…]
(Scene Break)
"Yo, Arell, what were you doing back there?" Devon asked, his brow furrowed. Kenny and Malik exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued.
Arell, however, simply shrugged. "Just setting up a few things. You guys wouldn't understand," he winked, a mischievous glint in his eye. He wasn't about to reveal his secret weapon just yet.
Flagging down a passing cab, they piled in, the city unfolding before them in a kaleidoscope of neon lights and bustling streets. The city whizzed by in a blur of graffiti-laden buildings and towering skyscrapers. Every corner pulsed with a vibrant energy, a stark contrast to the monotony of their past lives. Devon, peering out the window, caught Arell's almost childlike wonder.
"Man, this place is crazy," he said, a hint of awe in his voice. "It's like everything's turned up to eleven."
Malik leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "Perfect place to make it big, right Arell?" Arell chuckled. "That's the plan, my friend. That's the plan."
The cab lurched to a stop, the driver's voice announcing their arrival. Arell paid the fare, a lightness in his step that hadn't been there in years. He led his friends out of the cab, welcoming them to a quiet street lined with trees. A few blocks down stood their new place - a red brick apartment building with a freshly painted entrance and a well-lit open parking area. As they walked up the stairs, friendly hellos from a couple of neighbors filled the air.
"No way, this is it?" Malik gasped, disbelief etched on his face. Kenny, ever practical, reached for the door and pushed it open with a creak. Inside, sunlight streamed through large windows, illuminating a clean and well-maintained space. Worn but comfortable furniture filled the open living area. It was a spacious three-bedroom affair, radiating a sense of lived-in comfort.
The open living area was the heart of the space. Two plush, overstuffed couches, the color of faded denim, flanked a vintage coffee table sporting a worn chessboard. A large bookshelf crammed with worn paperbacks and a few framed photographs stood sentinel against one wall. A record player sat in a corner, a stack of vinyl LPs hinting at Arell's 'Uncle's' taste in music, likely an accessory added by the System due to its nature.
The kitchen, visible through a half-wall opening, was a compact but functional space. A hallway branched off from the living area, leading to the bedrooms and two compact bathrooms.
"This is way nicer than I pictured," Arell admitted, a wide grin spreading across his face. Yet the main course had yet to be unveiled, tucked away in a far corner – a small recording studio sat awaiting Arell.
A professional mixing console, with chunky knobs and bright lights, sat proudly in the center. High-quality microphones gleamed on their stands, promising to capture every detail of their music. Headphones hung invitingly nearby, but the instruments were the real gems. A compact electronic drum pad offered a vast array of pre-loaded sounds and the ability to create their own. A sampler stood ready to provide endless rhythmic possibilities. A tangle of color-coded cables hinted at the creative connections they could forge. Finally, computer tower hummed confidently, powering a music creation software displayed on a large monitor. A sturdy keyboard controller with realistic-feeling keys completed the setup.
This wasn't a state-of-the-art studio, but it was a packed with quality equipment and could pass as a professional studio. A wave of gratitude washed over Arell, this wasn't just an apartment it was a launchpad for their musical dreams.
—————————————————————————————————————
While Arell was exploring the rest of the apartment, suddenly, a soft chime echoed in the air.
[Ding!]
[Architect Initialization Complete]
[Would like the Architect to spawn outside the apartment?]
'Oh, it ready' Arell's finger hovered over the "Yes" option for a dramatic beat before tapping it decisively. A beat of silence followed, then a knock resonated through the apartment door.
"Uh, that must be him." Arell mumbled, feigning surprise at how fast he had spawned.
heading towards the door, he braced himself for the possible confusion caused by the Architect's unexpected arrival. He opened the door a crack, revealing a tall man whom he had created less than an hour ago.
"Mr. Arell?" the man inquired, his voice a smooth British baritone.
"Yes, that's me," Arell replied, "excellent," the man continued, extending a hand, a slight smile twitching at the corner of his lips. "Excellent. I am Geoffrey Rose," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he leaned in conspiratorially. "Legal counsel appointed by your Uncle to assist with your swift acclimation to the house, of course. But you and I both know my true purpose." He winked, a glint in his sharp eyes.
"Uh, yeah, yeah, h-ow about you come on in." He stood aside ushering Geoffrey inside, the man's gaze sweeping over the room before settling on Arell's friends, who were now occupying the living room, they looked on with a mix of curiosity and confusion.
"And who might these talented individuals be?" Geoffrey inquired, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice.
"Oh, these are my friends," Arell said quickly, understanding Geoffrey's intentions. "Devon, Malik, Kenny. Guys, this is Mr. Geoffrey, a lawyer sent by my Uncle to help us out with the legal stuff."
A chorus of greetings filled the air, "Lawyer, huh? You sure you're Uncle needed a whole lawyer to come in person for this, Arell? Seems a bit… much,"
Arell felt sweat prickle at his hairline. He needed to deflect their suspicion. Luckily, Geoffrey seemed to understand his predicament.
"Indeed, Mr. Malik," Geoffrey said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Perhaps 'legal counsel' is a more accurate term. Your uncle is simply a very forward-thinking man, eager to ensure his nephew's success which is why when Arell told me he had taken up an interest in music, I simply had to come and lend him my expertise, you see I also happen to be a bit of a musician myself. Besides," he added, his gaze locking with Arell's for a fleeting moment, "wouldn't you agree that a strong foundation is essential when building something truly magnificent and who better than an Architect to help?" Relieved and emboldened, Arell returned Geoffrey's gaze with a silent nod of thanks.
"Exactly," he said, directing his words back to Malik. "Geoffrey is looking out for us. Now, how about we get you guys settle yourselves in and then maybe we could hit the studio."
His friends exchanged glances, their skepticism mollified. Arell looked to Geoffrey the two exchanging glances, with Geoffrey by his side, Arell was confident they could navigate this new chapter, his secret weapon made manifest as a human now a sure crucial partner in his musical.
If you spot any errors, inconsistencies, etc. let me know, also feel free to share ideas, leave a review and comment please, it keeps me motivated knowing others are interested.
What do you think about the individuals with nefarious personalities being future or already know rappers
Also I've been running some new ideas, would you be interested in reading a real world based fiction delving into politics, or a football based fiction...you can also share other concepts.
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Name: Arell Rose
Alias: N/A
Stats
Strength: 42/100
Agility: 60/100
Stamina: 43/100
Durability: 54/100
Intelligence: 72/100
Charisma: 65/100 (+15 Boost due to mild handsomeness)
Rapper Stats [ Locked]
Flow: 54/100
Voice: 58
Lyrics: 25
Production: 53
Performance: 5
Freestyle: 38
Songwriting: 32
Hidden Stats [Locked]
Business Acumen: 39/100
Marketing: 20
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Hidden Status' [Locked]
Expansive Vocabulary (Rare)
Ear for Music (Extremely Rare)
Foresight Gambit (Rare)
Street Hustler (Uncommon)
Chicago Streets: Lyrical Inspiration (Uncommon)
Roulette [Locked]
