AntoniaT

IntChk: "Too Many Humans"

IntChk: "Too Many Humans"

When an advanced alien race arrives in orbit above Earth, they make their opinions about the precious planet's problems very clear: too many Humans.

They set about dramatically reducing Earth's population and that population's use of resources and production of waste.

How you ask...? A number of ways, about which you and I will write.

Desired Writers:

• Looking for 2-5 writers for 1-3 characters each.
• Characters can be anything from an Average Joe (or Jo) on the street to a nation's President or most senior General.
• This isn't a story about power plays or making the greatest worldwide impact, etc., etc. It's about writing an interesting story from the point of view of your character, be he/she a nobody or a somebody.

Reply length should be as follows:

• Looking for a couple of decent paragraphs if your character isn't interacting directly with another character at that point.
• Looking for enough to move the scene along if your character is interacting directly with another character.
• What I'm trying to say is please don't post one and two liners unless it is all that's necessary to move the scene along.
• I'm not looking for novellas in every post! I'm also not looking for 10 words.

Grammar, spelling, and punctuation checks: mandatory. Enough said on that.

Plots

• The over all story line has a specific direction: the eradication of much of Earth's Human population by the aliens.
• However, how that happens and how Humans react to it are both relatively open...
• ...so long as you do not tromp on the story line of other writers.
• Please present your basic story concept to the Hostess -- that's me -- for my review before you begin it.
• No one wants half a dozen writers to be working on their story lines only to have a single writer to claim that he/she is going to nuke the world or has a telepathically spread virus that will kill all of the aliens. NO power plays.
• I don't subscribe to the idea of It's easier to ask forgiveness than to ask permission.

Finding a writing partner:

• If you have a writing partner for a plot idea, wonderful.
• If not, I will offer myself up to a certain number of characters.
• I don't want to overextend myself, but I also know that if I am writing with you, you won't have to worry about your partner disappearing on you.

On that note, about me:

• I was here for a while some time back, but my chief writing partner got sick and left.
• I'm back again because he's going to return soon, so he says, which is exciting for me.
• I tell you this in case you are wondering why I started, stopped, and started again.
• I'm here to stay this time.

'Til The Last Drop of Blood Spills

For 150 years, my female character's family has dominated a vast neighborhood in the City. Though officially classified as an organized crime syndicate, "The Quince" have long devoted a great deal of time, money, and effort into creating a thriving, peaceful community in the heart of what is quickly becoming a violent, crime-ridden society.

Now, tragedy has struck. An up-and-coming street gang has slaughtered most of the Quince in an effort to take the Family's territory by force.

My character isn't about to let that stand. Trained in martial arts and weapons use -- fire arm and otherwise -- she is determined to annihilate her Family's killers, vowing not to stop... 'til the last drop of blood spills.

Your character will be a cop, a detective, an agent, etc., assigned to case in one fashion or another. Will you sympathize with my character? Or will you simply want to prevent a possible gang war?

How will you handle it?

If you are the romantic type and wish to create a spark between them, we can discuss this. But, this in not a sexual role play. I'm not lookkng to write erotica in PM.

"I Am Legend" (A table top game and role play)

Reply for Mimi Bryce:

As a waitress (or is it FORMER waitress?) for "Henry's", I naturally volunteer for food and drink inventory.

We have LOTS of food, of course. There had been some disruptions in deliveries because of the fear of the Darkseeker virus, but as most of Henry's suppliers were local, we weren't as bothered as were some big businesses that sell nationally and internationally provided goods and foods.

Action: I take one of my concerns to Mark: perishable food.

We have lots of fresh vegetables and fruits, milk, meat (which could be frozen assuming the power stays on), and other products that will go bad before the 10 of us can eat them.

I have a partial solution, though: preservation. Meats and fruits could be dried/dehydrated, milk could be turned into cheese (not that I have the SLIGHTEST idea how that is done), and more.

I suggest that we discuss this with the others during our next get together.

In the mean time, I am ready and prepared to do what ever needs to be done. (OOC: That's my way of saying you can advance the story as you feel necessary without thinking you're moving to fast. Mimi is just going to concentrate on work until some situation arises that affects her.)

(OOC: What about fuel and power? Gasoline or diesel in delivery trucks, if we have any; emergency generators; solar panels?)

"I Am Legend" (A table top game and role play)

Reply by AntoniaT for Mimi Bryce:

(OOC: At the end of this 1st reply, I include my initial Character Profile for all to see.)

*********

I can't believe this is happening.

I mean, I have seen a few bird flu epidemics; ans that Zika virus thing from 2016 was scary, until they found a cure for it.

But THIS thing!

Everyone is dying!

And those who aren't are becoming rabid cannibalistic maniacs who are eating everyone else!

Thank god for Mark. He has put me up in one of the store rooms on the top floor. I had enough time to pack a couple of bags. My father had given and taught me to use a 5 shot Lady Smith .38 Special pistol, so I am armed. I can consistently put 4 out 5 rounds into a human shaped target at 20 feet in 15 seconds, but -- of course -- I've never shot it at anything living before, let alone a person.

Mark has 9 of us closed up inside the tavern. I know all of them by face or name and most of them by both, though I am only very familiar with about half of them.

I go to Mark, thank him for the thousandth time, and ask "What can I do to help?"

*********

Place in the story:

• Waitress, Henry's Tavern and Brewery.
• Student, Portland State University (Environmental Sciences)
• Single. (Bisexual, btw.)
• No local family.

Physical Description:

• 24 years old.
• 5'6", 120#; slim and athletic; 34B-24-34.
• Redhead, hazel eyes.

Possessions:

• Couple of suitcases of clothes and personal possessions.
• .38 Special 5 shot revolver and box of ammo.
• Sleeping bag, sleeping pad.
• More to come.

"I Am Legend" (A table top game and role play)

(Hope you don't mind that I quoted your profile and just added my details. I love your format.)

Mimi Bryce
(picture)

Place in the story:

• Waitress, Henry's Tavern and Brewery.
• Student, Portland State University (Environmental Sciences)
• Single. (Bisexual, btw.)
• No local family.

Physical Description:

• 24 years old.
• 5'6", 120#; slim and athletic; 34B-24-34.
• Redhead, hazel eyes.

Possessions:

• Couple of suitcases of clothes and personal possessions.
• .38 Special 5 shot revolver and box of ammo.
• Sleeping bag, sleeping pad.
• More to come.

"I am NOT a Super Hero"

Greg asked, "Do you see what I'm getting at?"

Lana knew where Greg was heading as soon as he used the phrase super powers.

She cocked her head and said with a disapproving tone, "You want me to battle crime...! Like some sort of--"

Lana couldn't even bring herself to say the words. She drew a deep breath, then released it slowly before finishing, "Some sort of super hero."

She could see in Greg's eyes that she had in fact interpreted his offer correctly. "You can't be serious?"

But it was obvious that he was. Lana stood and turned away from the Special Agent, pacing about the dark room as she continued, "What, and. Are you going to expect me to wear some kind of super hero costume? Maybe something tiny and sexy that emphasizing my tits and ass, like all those fucking super chicks in the comic books? Really?"

She laughed in dismay at the possibility. She listened to what he had to say in response, then took a moment to contemplate the implications. What choices did she have? She could go to jail. She could disappear, literally, escaping Capital City forever. Or she could hide out down here in the Underground.

She turned to face Greg. Or. Or she could become a super hero crime fighter.

Lana donned a devilish smirk as she crossed to stand close to Greg. She asked, "What do I get out of this. I mean, other than you not taking me to jail?"

Male needed for multiple parts in D&D style RP

This is a bump and an addition of details.

As I said, it will be a simplified version of D&D.

One of the things I mean by this is that each of your characters will only have 2 Abilities, not 6 as in D&D.

For example:

• A warrior will have strength and constitution.
• A thief will have dexterity and intelligence.
• A wizard will have intelligence and wisdom.
• A healer ... so on and such forth.

"Not-So-Alien Alien Life"

"Not So Alien Alien Life"

BASIC STORY:

• In the late 22nd century, Earth sent a FTL (faster than light) manned mission to the distant planet of Meero.
• Transit time for its 18 crew members was 550 years.
• A century later, using new FTL technology, a second manned mission left for Meero.
• With a superior speed, it would arrive at Meero long before its predecessor.
• When that crew of the original craft arrived, they would discover than humankind had been on Meero for 20 generations.

PRIMARY CHARACTERS:

• My yet to be named female character.
• Your yet to be named male character.

SECONDARY CHARACTERS: We'll see.

"I am NOT a Super Hero"

"I still find it amazing that you could do that ... carry me all that way, I mean."

Lana listened to Greg's comments about her obvious appearance and unexpected strength. They didn't surprise her. And she didn't take them as chauvinistic, so they didn't offend her in anyway.

What did surprise Lana was the hungry look in Greg's eyes as he looked over her figure. She tried to suppress her pleased smirk but failed miserably. Lana liked being looked at. She knew she looked good. Over her life, Lana's shapely figure had gained her a great many things (tangible and intangible both) that her other abilities hadn't. She'd never hesitated to use her feminine wiles if it was the fastest, easiest way to get what she wanted.

Lana had dressed for her attempted escape from Capital City very much as she dressed on any other casual day with no great plans. A long, loose fitting blouse with a deep "V" neck showed off the cleavage of her C-cups, boosted by a black lacy bra. The tail of the shirt barely hid the firm, muscular buttocks accentuated by her tight fitting, black, Lycra body suit. She'd finished off the outfit with a pair of leather boots that reached almost to her knees. They had comfortable, low, two inch heels and anti-slip, rubber soles. The two, unconnected results were that they highlighted Lana's long, athletic legs while still allowing her to run and maneuver with agility and speed.

Greg asked, "So ... what now?"

He explained her situation and his duty.

She moved Greg's way, slow and unthreateningly. He'd just made it clear that he understood what Lana could do to him if she wanted. "I'm not going to hurt you. But. I'm not going to go to jail either."

Lana reached to the small of her back and pulled out a semiautomatic pistol, lowering it to her side. She hesitated for a moment, likely leaving Greg contemplating her intent. Then, with a little flip, Lana turned the gun around in her grip and offered it out to him. She waited until he took it, seeing in his eyes the familiarity with the weapon. The MIB who had taken the gun from Greg when he took the FBI agent down in the stairwell. Lana had reclaimed it, unsure of whether or not she would need it. She continued, "I have confessed my criminal activity to you. To an FBI agent. You have every right to take me in. You have a responsibility to."

Lana moved to a wooden box directly before Greg and sat. Looking into his eyes, she said with deep feeling, "I am putting my future in your hands. You helped me. You helped me get away from those men. I owe you."

She wasn't forgetting that she'd also helped Greg escape them. But right now, that wasn't relevant to their discussion. She continued, "I will do anything! Just. Just don't send me to jail. Please, Greg."

Lana used his given name, despite the fact that he'd used her surname the last couple of times he's spoken her name. She was trying to make a more personal connection in her plea to him. It was her way. She never passed on using those feminine wiles, after all.

"I am NOT a Super Hero"

Hell was breaking loose elsewhere in the building. Lana was happy that it was happening out of sight. The scariest moment in her life had been earlier in the day when Blondie and Scar had shot real, live bullets at her back in the bank. And what was happening in the floors above and below her sounded much worse.

The agent who had introduced himself James Bond style as Roberts, Greg Roberts led her down the hall to and into the stairwell. They cautiously descended three floors before Lana stopped short in the bend halfway between floors. She called to Greg, "Wait!"

The Agent stopped. Lana tilted her head, listening. Her eyes widened in shock as she hollered, "Get back!"

She was too late. The stairwell door suddenly burst open, slamming into the FBI agent. Greg slammed against the wall, and a moment later the MIB-wannabes had him on his face with his hands secured behind him. One of the attackers stood and swung his weapon up the stairs, then down, wanting to draw a bead on their real target but seeing no one else but the Agent.

Lana had dropped to her haunches in the corner even before the MIBs got through the door. They had no reason to believe that she was there. Yet as the man with his knee to Greg's back was trying to get handcuffs on the Agent, the man standing swept around from behind his back an electronic device hanging from a shoulder strap. He tapped a couple of buttons and began sweeping the device about, parallel to his pistol. The man was staring at the unit's back side. From her perspective, Lana couldn't see the little screen that was showing the results of the infrared detector.

But she knew when he'd discovered her. His expression showed that he saw something interesting. Then his gaze and the aim of his weapon both rose to where Lana was crouched.

She panicked, threw her hands out, and screamed, "STOP!

*********

Two hours later, Lana smiled at disoriented man's stirrings. As he opened his eyes, she told him, "You're safe."

Her lips widened even further at the ironic humor of her comment. After all, FBI Special Agent Greg Roberts was supposed to have been saving Lana Reed, not the other way around. But, he had, of course. If the troops at the other end of his radio call hadn't sprung into action, she would have been trapped in her condo when the men with the infrared detectors arrived.

Greg grimaced. Lana told him, "Take it easy. You probably have a concussion. I had to--"

She stopped short of explaining what she'd done in the stairwell. Lana had never talked about her abilities with any one. She was hesitant to do so. But. Greg had, in fact, kept up his end of their deal. Well, for three of eight floors anyway. So, with a smile, she decided he was owed at least three-eighths of the truth about her.

Lana helped Greg to sit up on the old ratty couch. She handed him a bottle of water, looked about the dark, dingy space, and explained, "It's a needle room. About fifteen blocks from my place. It's where addicts come to fill their bodies with poison. After dark--"

Again, Lana stopped short again. She knew she didn't have to explain such activity to a Federal Agent. Again Lana's lips spread in a smile. She knew what question was going through Greg's head: how they got here. "I carried you here. Through the basement. Underground. Alleys. Even a sewer."

She lifted the end of the water bottle again, encouraging Greg to drink. Lana studied him for a long moment. She had kept her secrets secret for so long. Telling them to him wasn't coming easily to her. But. It was coming. "When I was little, my parents told me I was special. They didn't know why I was the way I was. They only knew I was. They were very loving people, and they took great care to guide me in my special-ness. I was allowed to participate in so very many things. And I was allowed to use my enhanced abilities so long as I didn't draw undue attention."

Lana blushed a bit. Greg and his Bureau investigators had identified her easily enough. She had little doubt that they'd seen her long list of accomplishments. She said with a bit of an embarrassed tone, "I, um. I may have attracted a little undue attention."

She diverted her gaze as the memories of her parents' passing returned to her. She continued with a more solemn tone, "When I lost them, my parents, I lost something else, too. Control. I fell apart. I started partying. Drinking. Drugs."

She glanced up for just a moment before looking away. Greg was a very attractive man, just the kind she would have given herself to during one of her frequent clubbing nights. She knew she shouldn't add this part, but the devil inside her caused Lana to continue with, "Sex."

The siren of a police car zipping past the building interrupted her for a moment. Lana looked back to the Agent and continued, "I lost control over something else, too. My powers. I ran into some money prob--"

She stopped, diverting her eyes again. When she looked back up, she admitted, "No. I didn't do it because I needed money. Money was just an excuse. I, um. I started using my, let's call them powers since I know that's what you're thinking, to steal. It started small. Just to see if I could do it. I stole tips from café tables. I'd sit next to men waiting for the subway, then take anything they took their hands off of. Briefcases. Cell phones. Their coffee. That got old after a while, and it wasn't getting me any real excitement."

Another passing police car interrupted Lana. When she looked back, she said with almost a sense of pride, "So, I started robbing jewelry stores. I would enter and find a seat somewhere out of sight of the security cameras. I knew the sales people couldn't see me, but that the camera's could. I'd wait for the store to close. I'd rob it. I'd camouflage again and wait for the police response. Then, I'd sneak out at some point."

Lana wasn't surprised when Greg suddenly named one of the stores she'd robbed. It didn't surprise her that he knew about the theft.

She pointed a finger out the dirty, cracked window from which the low light of the streets was reaching them. "That was when the men in black got on my trail."

Lana went on to explain that she'd missed a security camera and was seen on the recordings. She'd gotten out, but so had her secret. Soon enough, the mysterious men in the black SUVs were involved. "I don't knorightw who they are, but they want me."

They chatted some more, and at one point Greg asked about what had happened the stairwell. Lana looked away again before explaining, "Camouflage isn't my only power."

Lana stood, smirked devilishly, turned away, and looked about the room. The light spilling in through the windows was illuminating a cloud of dust floating in the musty air. She raised her right hand before her, rolled it into a fist, and aimed it at an old wooden chair leaning against the wall. Suddenly, a column shaped shock wave blasted through the hanging dust. The chair exploded as if someone had hit it with a sledge hammer. Little pieces rained down about the room as the dust swirled about the room.

Lana didn't immediately turn to face Greg. She wasn't sure how he was going to react to what he'd seen. And she wasn't sure how she was going to react to his reaction. "So. That's how I got us out of the stairs."

She turned to face Greg finally. "And. Well, I carried you here over my shoulder here. So. That's how we got here, in case you hadn't figured that one out yet."