(Skip straight to the OOC HERE.)
To better explain the depths to which this particular topic will bring you, as seasoned RPers, I shall have to paraphrase from The Book Of Human Occupied Landfill, at least at first. So, without further ado, I present…
Hōl: A game
This RP will fuck you up. We swear.
It will make you take drugs whose chemical composition is beyond the spelling capacity of the GM. You will begin a prostitution ring made up of fourteen-year-olds and destitute nuns. Eventually, of course, you will most likely leap from the balcony of your local theatre with seven running chainsaws strapped to various parts of your body. There’s a good chance it will be the matinee showing of BAMBI as well.
So, if you feel like ending your days by being the center of attention in a big, hard, humming chair, please read on. And submit a character in the CS section.
Thank you for your time, worship the Antichrist, and have a nice day.
But enough of these pleasantries. The nuts and bolts of this RP are rather simple; you are a prisoner. Can’t be avoided, sorry, them’s the breaks. But we’ll get back to that. It is the far, far future. Humanity has colonized the entirety of the galaxy, and we’re all very proud of ourselves, except that we’ve transformed our ideals of justice, freedom, and decency into a dystopic quagmire of suckdom and mediocrity. The saddest part is that the average Joe the Plumber doesn’t even realize it. But, it could be worse! You could be stuck on Hōl! …wait, you are… Ok, getting back to that later.
Every dystopian future needs completely self-absorbed hedonistic assholes running it. This power is divided between two major offices:
Rupert IX, Emperor of the Confederation of Worlds (C.O.W.), and
His Holiness, Rashneesh “Big Stevie” Zimmerman, Megapope and CEO of Our Lord’s Church, Inc.
You’ll meet them, or at least representatives of their awesomely bulky and oppressive power. They’re everywhere. Not so much on Hōl, but they’re still around.
But what is Hōl, you inquire? How to explain… Image a once lush, green world in the ass end of space, surrounded by NOTHING. Lots and lots and lots of NOTHING. A huge, veritable cosmically exponentially vast grouping of NOTHING in one place, at one time, all surrounding what one day would become Hōl. Now imagine that some asshat (or some two asshats) decided to use this lush, green world to be the dumping ground for the rest of the colonized planets. And hazardous waste disposal site. And spot to cram every tossed disposable diaper. And industrial machinery graveyard. You have an entire planet utterly skullfucked by the powers that be, that for some reason still retains a breathable atmosphere.
So, in a prancing leap of logic, the Powers That Be decide that it’s be a WONDERFUL place to keep all of their worst criminals and social rejects. Then their second-worst criminals. Then people who may rise to positions of authority that don’t agree with them. Then anyone who’s above average and can’t directly help them maintain their horrific status quo. Finally, any excess accountants.
Generally, your characters will not be accountants.
There are creatures who dwell here by choice, but for the most part you really don’t want to meet them. Sharing the #1 spot are the Fleshtenders and the Sodomy Bikers. There are Cannibalistic Accountants, Nortons, Uncle Mickee, Crickets, Necrodoodles, Wastits, and Dump Technicians, as well. Just naming a small handful of painful and/or useful NPCs you likely don’t want to meet unless you really, really have to. Oh yes – for you purists – there are Orcs.
The goal of this RP is not to free the people, nor is it to effect social change. No, your primary goal is to NOT DIE. At least at first. Considering the life span of the average guest of the Hotel Hōl post-arrival is seven to nine seconds, you have your work cut out for you. If you’re one of the lucky few not to be spread thin over the planet’s uncertain surface like so much sticky convict marmalade your first half-hour in, your secondary goal, still, is not to die. Or more specifically, survive in this environment that is the very definition of Hostile.
If you can eek out an existence under these conditions, you then try to escape.
But beware! Hōl has a way of changing people. You’re going to drop in there a fresh, nubile young mass murderer/psychopath/animal porker/mime/accountant/regular guy/DWB, but you’ll leave a very, very different person. Ok, so you probably won’t leave, but there will be a lot of changing before you die in a fusillade of plasma fire or chainsaw colonoscopy. Or both, probably both.
If you already know the game system, GREAT! Otherwise, we’ll have to have a series of PMs to get a workable character together. Doesn’t have to be massive or special, no paragon or hero needed. But do consider this: the bigger you are, the bigger the opposition I will slam in front of you.
So, who’s interested?
To better explain the depths to which this particular topic will bring you, as seasoned RPers, I shall have to paraphrase from The Book Of Human Occupied Landfill, at least at first. So, without further ado, I present…
Hōl: A game
This RP will fuck you up. We swear.
It will make you take drugs whose chemical composition is beyond the spelling capacity of the GM. You will begin a prostitution ring made up of fourteen-year-olds and destitute nuns. Eventually, of course, you will most likely leap from the balcony of your local theatre with seven running chainsaws strapped to various parts of your body. There’s a good chance it will be the matinee showing of BAMBI as well.
So, if you feel like ending your days by being the center of attention in a big, hard, humming chair, please read on. And submit a character in the CS section.
Thank you for your time, worship the Antichrist, and have a nice day.
But enough of these pleasantries. The nuts and bolts of this RP are rather simple; you are a prisoner. Can’t be avoided, sorry, them’s the breaks. But we’ll get back to that. It is the far, far future. Humanity has colonized the entirety of the galaxy, and we’re all very proud of ourselves, except that we’ve transformed our ideals of justice, freedom, and decency into a dystopic quagmire of suckdom and mediocrity. The saddest part is that the average Joe the Plumber doesn’t even realize it. But, it could be worse! You could be stuck on Hōl! …wait, you are… Ok, getting back to that later.
Every dystopian future needs completely self-absorbed hedonistic assholes running it. This power is divided between two major offices:
Rupert IX, Emperor of the Confederation of Worlds (C.O.W.), and
His Holiness, Rashneesh “Big Stevie” Zimmerman, Megapope and CEO of Our Lord’s Church, Inc.
You’ll meet them, or at least representatives of their awesomely bulky and oppressive power. They’re everywhere. Not so much on Hōl, but they’re still around.
But what is Hōl, you inquire? How to explain… Image a once lush, green world in the ass end of space, surrounded by NOTHING. Lots and lots and lots of NOTHING. A huge, veritable cosmically exponentially vast grouping of NOTHING in one place, at one time, all surrounding what one day would become Hōl. Now imagine that some asshat (or some two asshats) decided to use this lush, green world to be the dumping ground for the rest of the colonized planets. And hazardous waste disposal site. And spot to cram every tossed disposable diaper. And industrial machinery graveyard. You have an entire planet utterly skullfucked by the powers that be, that for some reason still retains a breathable atmosphere.
So, in a prancing leap of logic, the Powers That Be decide that it’s be a WONDERFUL place to keep all of their worst criminals and social rejects. Then their second-worst criminals. Then people who may rise to positions of authority that don’t agree with them. Then anyone who’s above average and can’t directly help them maintain their horrific status quo. Finally, any excess accountants.
Generally, your characters will not be accountants.
There are creatures who dwell here by choice, but for the most part you really don’t want to meet them. Sharing the #1 spot are the Fleshtenders and the Sodomy Bikers. There are Cannibalistic Accountants, Nortons, Uncle Mickee, Crickets, Necrodoodles, Wastits, and Dump Technicians, as well. Just naming a small handful of painful and/or useful NPCs you likely don’t want to meet unless you really, really have to. Oh yes – for you purists – there are Orcs.
The goal of this RP is not to free the people, nor is it to effect social change. No, your primary goal is to NOT DIE. At least at first. Considering the life span of the average guest of the Hotel Hōl post-arrival is seven to nine seconds, you have your work cut out for you. If you’re one of the lucky few not to be spread thin over the planet’s uncertain surface like so much sticky convict marmalade your first half-hour in, your secondary goal, still, is not to die. Or more specifically, survive in this environment that is the very definition of Hostile.
If you can eek out an existence under these conditions, you then try to escape.
But beware! Hōl has a way of changing people. You’re going to drop in there a fresh, nubile young mass murderer/psychopath/animal porker/mime/accountant/regular guy/DWB, but you’ll leave a very, very different person. Ok, so you probably won’t leave, but there will be a lot of changing before you die in a fusillade of plasma fire or chainsaw colonoscopy. Or both, probably both.
If you already know the game system, GREAT! Otherwise, we’ll have to have a series of PMs to get a workable character together. Doesn’t have to be massive or special, no paragon or hero needed. But do consider this: the bigger you are, the bigger the opposition I will slam in front of you.
So, who’s interested?
