The Adventures of Blues Noteworthy
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this song is the best to browse tumblr to.

oh my god it is

I was literally laughing at EVERY POST

how to make angry ranting posts even more hilarious


mitch!! do something with this!!! 



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<The question post thing is kind of inconvenient, so please submit your commands for Blue in the ask box!>

> Take a walk near the Everfree to relax.

Blues walked the short distance back to the edge of town and look out at the landscape.  A tranquil meadow sprawled before him, its gently rolling hills dotted sparingly with evergreen trees.  Rabbits and squirells darted around the grass while butterflies and dragonflies flitted through the air.  Beautiful, pure blue ponds occasionally caught they eye, nestled in the lower spaces, the lilies and frogs undisturbed by the gentle breeze that rustled the verdant grass.  The meadows of Ponyville were a veritable paradise, popular for picnics, outings, sporting events, and the occasional death combat.  Behind their farms, the ponies of the town treasured their meadows above all else.

Blues’ eyes hovered just above the horizon of this serene landscape.  Looming on the edge of this particular meadow, closer here than any part of Ponyville proper, was the border of the Everfree forest.  The dark trees, behemoths to the placid evergreens of the meadow, hung forward as if slowly lunging upon the light, overtaking its prey in the slow, deliberate warfare that trees engage in.  The Everfree has always been dangerous, epitomizing the unruly chaos that nature falls to when left to its own devices.  And it had only gotten worse in recent years.  These days you couldn’t go in without a ranger or a forest guide.  If you wanted to come back out, that is.  The royal guard couldn’t spare the horsepower to go out looking for missing ponies.

At first it seemed like the creatures of the Everfree were simply growing more agitated without reason.  Then the monster attacks became more frequent.  Ponies went into the Everfree and never came back.  More and more creatures were leaving the forest, and defending the border became the rangers’ full time jobs.  Their reports were baffling.

For whatever reason, the Everfree was being wracked by earthquakes.

Blues stood at the edge of the meadow, staring past it at the forest he had once taken the occasional stroll through.

He decided not to go to the Everfree.

>Go through the shops and admire all the things you can’t buy because you’re so poor.

Without even realizing where his hooves were taking him, Blues soon found himself outside the glass doors of Golden Notes, Ponyville’s best music store.  A small bell, tuned perfectly to middle C, signaled his entrance as he swung the doors open to reveal the multiple shelves that stretched out before him.  The finest strings, woodwinds and brass were openly on display, just ready to be played and purchased.  The finest percussion was safely stored in the back closet under three padlocks and a few magical wards.

Blues didn’t have much time to marvel before his view was interrupted by a small yellow mare, her rough orange mane falling around her face as she slid in front of her potential customer.

"Welcome!" she cheerily chimed, "My name is Doria Mode, how can I help you?"

Blues chuckled a little at Doria’s cheer.  “Just here for the usual,” he said, looking over the short mare towards the back of the building.

Doria’s smile fell as she realized who she was standing in front of.  “Oh, Blues.  She’s in the back, same place as always.  Try not to smudge the glass,” she sighed as she slowly trotted back over to her counter.

Blues wasted no time in finding the glass case in the back of the store.  Underneath that glass lay the finest saxophone he had ever laid eyes on.  His hooves idly tapped the glass as he stared at it.  Every curve, every key, every line and embellishment was the work of a great master.  Tales were told that the wondrous instrument had been formed with alicorn magic and the scales of ancient dragons.  Blues had no doubt in his mind that it was worth every penny of the four million bits the instrument sold for.

"Lydia!" Doria called from the front of the store, "Blues is smudging the glass again!"

Lydia was a much larger figure than her sister.  Her dark purple eyes fell angrily on Blues as she sprayed him off with a water bottle.

"Shoo, you’ve looked enough today," she huffed, firmly pushing Blues off of the case.  "Buy something or leave."

Blues grabbed at his coinpurse and looked into it, only to find that he was, once again, utterly broke.  He didn’t need to be told to leave twice.  The beautifully tuned bell called its cry again as Blues trudged out of the store.

"One day, it will be mine," he said softly to himself, turning around for one last look at the storefront.  "Oh yes.  It will be mine."

His weekly admiration had only eaten up a small part of his morning.  Blues cast his gaze around the shops and buildings of Ponyville.  What to do, what to do?

>Do some exercise you fatty.

An idle poke at his stomach revealed to Blues an undeniable truth: he had gained some weight, and the stomach to match.  He refused to believe he was, as his spiteful inner monologue called him, “a fatty”, but he had certainly put on pounds during the downtime between harvests.  But why waste time doing pointless exercise when that time could be spent on real work, like eating chocolate and reading newspaper comics?

Blues decided that he didn’t need to exercise.  It was far too silly.  “I get plenty of exercise everyday, and I’ll lose plenty of weight during Applebuck season,” he said as he looked at himself in his smeared mirror.  Why, the colt before him was the picture of health!  And he had a very tasteful manedo.  He needed no exercise today!

"I don’t need any exercise today!" Blues told his reflection excitedly.  Today, he would get something interesting done.  He wasn’t sure exactly what, but it would get done, that much was for certain.  In an unusually good mood for a Monday morning, Blues opened his front door and trotted out to the dirt road.

It was a beautiful day.  A soft wind rustled the trees, shaking loose the first few coloured leaves of the coming autumn.  The sun fell softly on the dusty road that would eventually take Blues into Ponyville.  After taking a deep breath of the morning air, he began his journey into town.

He didn’t live very far out of town.  He was only about half as far as Sweet Apple Acres was, albeit in a different direction.  Some might consider his home lonely, the tired old cottage that it was, since it was all alone.  There were no other homes to break the horizon on the trip into town, and it was a fairly long walk the other way before any more cottages could be found.  Blues considered the walk very peaceful.  The solitude gave him time to reflect (on his solitude, more often than not), and the absence of houses, stores, or other buildings meant the walk back home every night was his alone to share with the night sky. 

Blues was very fond of the nighttime, when the stars twinkled down and the moon cast its soft light upon the sleepy world.  It gave him a comfort that little else could, and he would often stay up to gaze out at the meadows.  Sometimes he would take an instrument out and play his songs, to be carried out by the wind to wherever it may go.  When he eventually had to sleep, he would do so staring out through his window, keeping his mind busy so it couldn’t disturb him with worries or terrors while he drifted off to sleep.

Before he knew it, Blues found himself on the outskirts of Ponyville.  It occurred to him then that he had no definite plan beyond “go to town and do things”.

"Well, here I am," he muttered to himself.  "But now where should I go?"

>Make some breakfast.

Sleep’s jumbled thoughts slowly unraveled themselves from around Blues’ mind as he stood blankly beside his bed.  He was in the process of analyzing his end table when his thoughts finally centered on one central theme: food.  His destiny resolved, Blues trotted briskly out of his bedroom, stepping deftly over and around the myriad instrument cases and papers that made up his floor.  He emerged into his small living room, which was conveniently separated from his kitchen by only a small counter.  After stubbing his hoof only two times on the corner of said counter, Blues at last found himself before his cabinets, which were promptly thrown open.

Leaning expertly on his back hooves as only the Earth Ponies have bothered learning to do, Blues rifled through the contents of his cupboard, which consisted primarily of brightly coloured cereals and toaster pastries.  After a few moments of critical consideration, he settled on the bright yellow box of “Celesti-Os”.

Deftly grabbing a bowl and maneuvering it to the nearby counter, Blues settled down to his morning meal.  The marshmallow suns were quite pleasing to the eye, just as the processed grain loops were pleasing to the palette.  Truly, a breakfast of champions.  All that it needed was a little milk.

Summoning forth the dexterity that so baffled the pegasi and unicorns who weren’t so pressed to master it, Blues grabbed a carton of milk and poured it out into his bowl, while his other hoof grabbed a spoon with which to consume the liquid form of his morning nutrients.  Now fully prepared, he wasted no time in eating his masterfully prepared meal.

His meal consumed and his body energized, Blues felt like a new colt.  Or at least, like an old colt that just ate a sugary breakfast cereal.  He was buzzing with energy, and an undying need to burn it.

Blues cast his gaze around his small home.  The day outside looked wonderful, and the things inside looked appealing.  Such was the curse of excess energy.  He tapped his hoof in anticipation, even though he hadn’t decided what he was anticipating.  His mind once again racing, he murmured to himself, “What in Equestria should I do?”

The Adventures of Blues Noteworthy: Chapter 1

Life, they say, is an adventure unto itself.  Each and every day is another chance to leap into the unknown, to learn new things and make startling new discoveries, to create and to laugh and to love.

The life of Blues Noteworthy was many things, but it was certainly not an adventure.  The only uncertainty he ever faced was whether or not he would be paid at the end of a gig.  He couldn’t afford to tour, so his music never left Ponyville, nor did he.  During the Summer, he worked at his music, playing for whatever bar or coffee shop took pity on him.  During the rest of the year, he was work for hire on the many farms that fed Ponyville and its neighbours.  Sweet Apple Acres paid the best, in food and in coin, and so he worked there as often as he could.  As Fall was approaching, his help was requested more and more often; Applebuck season was fast approaching.

On this calm Monday morning on the edge of Fall, Blues was happily asleep atop his bare mattress.  It was a ragged old thing, just as the rest of the colt’s small house was, but comfortable enough for his purposes.  After all, he didn’t have to worry about sharing it.

Blues would likely have slept away the entirety of a perfectly decent Monday morning, had Celestia not chosen to place her sun just so, as to fall upon his eyes through his window.  With a softly-spoken “Horse feathers!”, he stumbled off of his bed, his blue coat getting lightly marred by the floor’s dust.After giving gravity a few moments to cherish its victory, Blues brought himself to his hooves, brushing himself off once he was upright.”Well,” he thought to himself with a stretch, “time to face another day.”

(How should Blues begin his day?)


I’ve been planning for long enough.

Monday, September 24, I will begin updating The Adventures of Blues Noteworthy, a text-based adventure story which will be based on reader interaction in the form of commands. Each update will consist of a paragraph or several, followed by an open-ended…

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The Reinvigoration of Blues Noteworthy (mod post)

As you may or may not have noticed, this blog is essentially dead.  There is agoodreason behind this: I don’t enjoy drawing and colouring things on the computer, and my sketches are not what you might call “presentable”. 

However, I am loathe to see the legend of Blues left untold, even if I’m no longer willing to update this as an art-based ask blog.

So, here’s the idea: A text-based blog that follows a mix between the choose-your-own adventure style and the Homestuck input style.  Basically, I will provide a few paragraphs of action/description/what have you, and end it with a prompt.  I will then select a response to that prompt and use it for the next few paragraphs.

The question is: is anyone interested in this?  Would you be interested in following a text-based adventure blog centered around Blues Noteworthy?

This is such a peaceful little hill.