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Username history
- TRF 9 yrs ago
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Bio
Roleplay Interests
- Military
- Post-Apocalyptic
- Medieval Fantasy
- Sci-Fi/Space Settings
- Action and Adventure
- Historical Fiction
- Wild West
- New World Exploration
- Zombies? Zombies!
Roleplay Credentials
Skill 1 - 10: 6 (A little above average)
Preferred Post Length: 2 - 6 paragraphs
Preferred RP Player Count: 3 - 6
Max Rps At Once:: 2
GM Experience: Hosted 7
Behavioural Dislikes
- Drive by critics.
- Know it alls.
- The easily offended.
- The so-serious types.
- Childish antagonisms.
- Spoilt MY WAY OR HIGHWAY brats.
Most Recent Posts
June, 27th. 1987.
Corporal Ryon Yong Sik, ROK 3rd Infantry Batallion.
Head of column.
An RPG round screamed across the lush green of a rice field, smacking into the side of an enraged American M2 Bradley with a dull metallic thud. The potentially fatal projectile, made impotent by some obvious defect, bounced away and splashed into the soggy soil just off the road.
Corporal Ryon Yong Sik peered away from the sights of his M16A1 to admire the minature metal American football of death, as it stuck proudly from the mud a few inches from his face. If he hadn't of gone without sleep for the past three days, he may have flinched. Instead he shrugged, and peered back down the iron sights of his weapon.
The tree line a thousand yards ahead was alive with the muzzle flashes of what Ryon supposed was a whole platoon of his northern countrymen. The American Bradley behind him thundered its main gun in their direction, obviously angered by what could have been a killing blow from an anti-tank team. Streams of thick orange tracer fire tore into the tree line, felling trees and uprooting shrubbery.
"We've gotta move out before they fuck us from every which way," an American lieutenant yelled from nearby, temporarily stealing Ryon's attention. "First Platoon, on me, lets chase those fuckers into the ground!"
Ryon understood English well enough, but his exhausted brain and shattered nerves delayed him from realising that as of half an hour ago, he was very much apart of this American lieutenant's First Platoon. Things had gotten so bad in the last twenty-four hours that neither his comrades or the Americans had enough men, skills and munitions to float their own fully combat effective units. Ryon remembered a few other platoons in the same situation as his, although they were all led by Americans.
"You, you and you," the lieutenant bellowed, pointing an angry finger at Ryon and two of his Korean comrades who were lying low alongside him. "This is your country, and it's about fucking time you fought for it!"
Ryon looked up at the man, even as the deafening roar of the Bradley's continued barrage on the tree line numbed his senses and shifted the mud beneath his belly. The American was young with a stocky build - a stark contrast to Ryon's lanky and gaunt form. Like most of the Americans Ryon had encountered, the lieutenant came across as a Clint Eastwood type; all bravado and red faced heroism.
"Yes sir," Ryon managed to say. His two comrades echoed him, albeit with a lesser grasp of proper English pronunciations.
"You got a watch?" The lieutenant asked, kneeling down besides Ryon.
"No sir."
"Shit son, no watch?" The lieutenant said mockingly but without the malice. "Forget it, I assume you fellahs can count to sixty?"
"Yes sir."
"Well now aint that a luxury?" The lieutenant chuckled, almost maniacally. Ryon sensed the man was perhaps breaking under the strain. "Okay, you zippos listen up. I want you to count to sixty, and then I want all three of you to run at that tree line. Understood?"
"Yes sir."
The lieutenant snorted, "you little guys don't say much huh?"
"No sir."
This time, the young stocky lieutenant just shook his head and stood to full height, even as rifle rounds whizzed by him. "We're all gonna run over 'em like a steam roller," he shouted, waving a hand towards a gathering of kneeling U.S soldiers by the roadside. "You guys stick with us, and don't fucking think of staying behind."
The lieutenant moved off swiftly, oblivious to the incoming small arms fire that the Bradley had failed to silence. Ryon saw him hop on top of the bulky American fighting vehicle, and knock on the turret's hatch. Another American soldier poked his head out.
"You got comms?" Ryon heard the lieutenant yell over the growing din of battle. The soldier half submerged in the Bradley's turret nodded fiercely. "Get those mortar carriers to smoke that tree line, we're going in!"
Ryon started counting the seconds.
Corporal Ryon Yong Sik, ROK 3rd Infantry Batallion.
Head of column.
An RPG round screamed across the lush green of a rice field, smacking into the side of an enraged American M2 Bradley with a dull metallic thud. The potentially fatal projectile, made impotent by some obvious defect, bounced away and splashed into the soggy soil just off the road.
Corporal Ryon Yong Sik peered away from the sights of his M16A1 to admire the minature metal American football of death, as it stuck proudly from the mud a few inches from his face. If he hadn't of gone without sleep for the past three days, he may have flinched. Instead he shrugged, and peered back down the iron sights of his weapon.
The tree line a thousand yards ahead was alive with the muzzle flashes of what Ryon supposed was a whole platoon of his northern countrymen. The American Bradley behind him thundered its main gun in their direction, obviously angered by what could have been a killing blow from an anti-tank team. Streams of thick orange tracer fire tore into the tree line, felling trees and uprooting shrubbery.
"We've gotta move out before they fuck us from every which way," an American lieutenant yelled from nearby, temporarily stealing Ryon's attention. "First Platoon, on me, lets chase those fuckers into the ground!"
Ryon understood English well enough, but his exhausted brain and shattered nerves delayed him from realising that as of half an hour ago, he was very much apart of this American lieutenant's First Platoon. Things had gotten so bad in the last twenty-four hours that neither his comrades or the Americans had enough men, skills and munitions to float their own fully combat effective units. Ryon remembered a few other platoons in the same situation as his, although they were all led by Americans.
"You, you and you," the lieutenant bellowed, pointing an angry finger at Ryon and two of his Korean comrades who were lying low alongside him. "This is your country, and it's about fucking time you fought for it!"
Ryon looked up at the man, even as the deafening roar of the Bradley's continued barrage on the tree line numbed his senses and shifted the mud beneath his belly. The American was young with a stocky build - a stark contrast to Ryon's lanky and gaunt form. Like most of the Americans Ryon had encountered, the lieutenant came across as a Clint Eastwood type; all bravado and red faced heroism.
"Yes sir," Ryon managed to say. His two comrades echoed him, albeit with a lesser grasp of proper English pronunciations.
"You got a watch?" The lieutenant asked, kneeling down besides Ryon.
"No sir."
"Shit son, no watch?" The lieutenant said mockingly but without the malice. "Forget it, I assume you fellahs can count to sixty?"
"Yes sir."
"Well now aint that a luxury?" The lieutenant chuckled, almost maniacally. Ryon sensed the man was perhaps breaking under the strain. "Okay, you zippos listen up. I want you to count to sixty, and then I want all three of you to run at that tree line. Understood?"
"Yes sir."
The lieutenant snorted, "you little guys don't say much huh?"
"No sir."
This time, the young stocky lieutenant just shook his head and stood to full height, even as rifle rounds whizzed by him. "We're all gonna run over 'em like a steam roller," he shouted, waving a hand towards a gathering of kneeling U.S soldiers by the roadside. "You guys stick with us, and don't fucking think of staying behind."
The lieutenant moved off swiftly, oblivious to the incoming small arms fire that the Bradley had failed to silence. Ryon saw him hop on top of the bulky American fighting vehicle, and knock on the turret's hatch. Another American soldier poked his head out.
"You got comms?" Ryon heard the lieutenant yell over the growing din of battle. The soldier half submerged in the Bradley's turret nodded fiercely. "Get those mortar carriers to smoke that tree line, we're going in!"
Ryon started counting the seconds.
Character Sheet
Not Required/Optional
Name:
Age:
Gender: Women allowed.
Ethnicity/Nationality: North Korean, South Korean, American - and all of their ethnic minorities inclusive.
Physical Description:
Rank:
History:
Psychological Profile:
Equipment:
June 10th, 1987. South Korean dictator Chun Doo-hwan, having reached the end of his official presidential mandate and willing to step down, announces his choice for a successor.
This appointment which oversteps any electoral process triggers the wrath of the students and the liberals, who were hoping for democratic reforms.
June 10th to the 18th, 1987. In a matter of days, over a million protesters take to the streets all over the country. US forces in Korea are ordered to remain in lock-down in their barracks.
North Korea does not fail to notice the situation in the south. Agents infiltrate designated circles in order to increase the level of chaos, while military forces are put on alert…
June 19th, 1987. While police and security forces are about to be overwhelmed, President Chun mobilises the Army in the streets.
Hard pressed and panicked by a hostile crowd, an officer orders his troops to fire. In a matter of minutes, the shooting spreads all over the streets of Seoul.
June 19th to the 21st, 1987. The crackdown is brutal, resulting in over a thousand casualties and many more arrests.
June 21st, 1987. With US troops still confined to their barracks and the ROK Army deployed in the streets, North Korean Leader Kim Il-Sung decides time has come for Korea’s reunification.
June 22nd, 1987. When the North Korean artillery barrage rolls over the DMZ at dawn, US and ROK units, disorganised by civil unrest, are taken by complete surprise.
June 22nd to the 27th, 1987. Within a few hours, the first lines of defence are overwhelmed. Within a few days, the battered US and ROK units are pushed back to a last perimeter around the vital harbour of Busan.
As the North Korean forces launch their final assault against the Busan pocket, a hash-tag element of the ROK’s 3rd Infantry Batallion and the US 9th Infantry Regiment fight through the chaos to reach friendly lines. Located a few miles south of the recently fallen Ulsan, but blocked by vanguard forces of the North Korean 12th Tank Regiment, they face utter annihilation.
To make matters worse, the North Koreans are taking no prisoners – especially if they happen to be American.
Will the survivors of the onslaught escape to the questionable safety of Busan? Or will they succumb to the deteriorating situation around them?
Only time will tell.
This appointment which oversteps any electoral process triggers the wrath of the students and the liberals, who were hoping for democratic reforms.
June 10th to the 18th, 1987. In a matter of days, over a million protesters take to the streets all over the country. US forces in Korea are ordered to remain in lock-down in their barracks.
North Korea does not fail to notice the situation in the south. Agents infiltrate designated circles in order to increase the level of chaos, while military forces are put on alert…
June 19th, 1987. While police and security forces are about to be overwhelmed, President Chun mobilises the Army in the streets.
Hard pressed and panicked by a hostile crowd, an officer orders his troops to fire. In a matter of minutes, the shooting spreads all over the streets of Seoul.
June 19th to the 21st, 1987. The crackdown is brutal, resulting in over a thousand casualties and many more arrests.
June 21st, 1987. With US troops still confined to their barracks and the ROK Army deployed in the streets, North Korean Leader Kim Il-Sung decides time has come for Korea’s reunification.
June 22nd, 1987. When the North Korean artillery barrage rolls over the DMZ at dawn, US and ROK units, disorganised by civil unrest, are taken by complete surprise.
June 22nd to the 27th, 1987. Within a few hours, the first lines of defence are overwhelmed. Within a few days, the battered US and ROK units are pushed back to a last perimeter around the vital harbour of Busan.
As the North Korean forces launch their final assault against the Busan pocket, a hash-tag element of the ROK’s 3rd Infantry Batallion and the US 9th Infantry Regiment fight through the chaos to reach friendly lines. Located a few miles south of the recently fallen Ulsan, but blocked by vanguard forces of the North Korean 12th Tank Regiment, they face utter annihilation.
To make matters worse, the North Koreans are taking no prisoners – especially if they happen to be American.
Will the survivors of the onslaught escape to the questionable safety of Busan? Or will they succumb to the deteriorating situation around them?
Only time will tell.
The General Plot
The retreating ROK/US troops have just crossed a bridge, throwing caution to the wind in a desperate effort to escape the massacres taking place a few clicks north of their position. The bulk of the North Korean forces are not far behind them, however the vanguard of these forces are already way ahead.
Crossing the bridge, the ROK/US column comes under immediate small arms fire from nearby tree lines, forcing them to defend themselves. However, they can't simply sit back and wait to pick off the enemy, because in a matter of hours the main advancing forces of the North Korean 12th Tank Batallion will be rolling up their rear.
This means one thing, onwards!
Elements of the ROK 3rd Mechanised Infantry Regiment have made contact, and are fighting a tenacious defence of a nearby farm. Their commanding officer has been ordered to keep the evacuation route open, but they can only hold on for so long.
The following tactical reconnaissance photographs progress from left to right, geographically speaking. Suspected NK positions and known NK positions have been high lighted.
If the battered ROK/US column can reach the farm, there is hope for them to join in the defence of Busan. If they don't? Well, I'm sure the North Koreans will present them with cosy hospitality.
Character Sheet
Players can take on the roll of any rank. The column has some Bradleys and Korean LVTs, which players are welcome to pilot should they wish. I'll even allow a tank or two. Air support is a no-go currently, but will become available as/when the RP progresses towards Busan.
Alternatively, players can choose to create North korean characters who will become the sentient apparatus of the 12th Tank Battalion's vanguard.
As war is Hell, and chaotic, I do not require character sheets. Instead, I expect players to grab a weapon and charge into the fray.
However as GM I reserve the right to block or banish problematic players.
For those of you who are creatures or habit, you'll find a character sheet in the character tab section.
Alternatively, players can choose to create North korean characters who will become the sentient apparatus of the 12th Tank Battalion's vanguard.
As war is Hell, and chaotic, I do not require character sheets. Instead, I expect players to grab a weapon and charge into the fray.
However as GM I reserve the right to block or banish problematic players.
For those of you who are creatures or habit, you'll find a character sheet in the character tab section.
June 10th, 1987. South Korean dictator Chun Doo-hwan, having reached the end of his official presidential mandate and willing to step down, announces his choice for a successor.
This appointment which oversteps any electoral process triggers the wrath of the students and the liberals, who were hoping for democratic reforms.
June 10th to the 18th, 1987. In a matter of days, over a million protesters take to the streets all over the country. US forces in Korea are ordered to remain in lock-down in their barracks.
North Korea does not fail to notice the situation in the south. Agents infiltrate designated circles in order to increase the level of chaos, while military forces are put on alert…
June 19th, 1987. While police and security forces are about to be overwhelmed, President Chun mobilises the Army in the streets.
Hard pressed and panicked by a hostile crowd, an officer orders his troops to fire. In a matter of minutes, the shooting spreads all over the streets of Seoul.
June 19th to the 21st, 1987. The crackdown is brutal, resulting in over a thousand casualties and many more arrests.
June 21st, 1987. With US troops still confined to their barracks and the ROK Army deployed in the streets, North Korean Leader Kim Il-Sung decides time has come for Korea’s reunification.
June 22nd, 1987. When the North Korean artillery barrage rolls over the DMZ at dawn, US and ROK units, disorganised by civil unrest, are taken by complete surprise.
June 22nd to the 27th, 1987. Within a few hours, the first lines of defence are overwhelmed. Within a few days, the battered US and ROK units are pushed back to a last perimeter around the vital harbour of Busan.
As the North Korean forces launch their final assault against the Busan pocket, a hash-tag element of the ROK’s 3rd Infantry Batallion and the US 9th Infantry Regiment fight through the chaos to reach friendly lines. Located a few miles south of the recently fallen Ulsan, but blocked by vanguard forces of the North Korean 12th Tank Regiment, they face utter annihilation.
To make matters worse, the North Koreans are taking no prisoners – especially if they happen to be American.
Will the survivors of the onslaught escape to the questionable safety of Busan? Or will they succumb to the deteriorating situation around them?
Only time will tell.
This appointment which oversteps any electoral process triggers the wrath of the students and the liberals, who were hoping for democratic reforms.
June 10th to the 18th, 1987. In a matter of days, over a million protesters take to the streets all over the country. US forces in Korea are ordered to remain in lock-down in their barracks.
North Korea does not fail to notice the situation in the south. Agents infiltrate designated circles in order to increase the level of chaos, while military forces are put on alert…
June 19th, 1987. While police and security forces are about to be overwhelmed, President Chun mobilises the Army in the streets.
Hard pressed and panicked by a hostile crowd, an officer orders his troops to fire. In a matter of minutes, the shooting spreads all over the streets of Seoul.
June 19th to the 21st, 1987. The crackdown is brutal, resulting in over a thousand casualties and many more arrests.
June 21st, 1987. With US troops still confined to their barracks and the ROK Army deployed in the streets, North Korean Leader Kim Il-Sung decides time has come for Korea’s reunification.
June 22nd, 1987. When the North Korean artillery barrage rolls over the DMZ at dawn, US and ROK units, disorganised by civil unrest, are taken by complete surprise.
June 22nd to the 27th, 1987. Within a few hours, the first lines of defence are overwhelmed. Within a few days, the battered US and ROK units are pushed back to a last perimeter around the vital harbour of Busan.
As the North Korean forces launch their final assault against the Busan pocket, a hash-tag element of the ROK’s 3rd Infantry Batallion and the US 9th Infantry Regiment fight through the chaos to reach friendly lines. Located a few miles south of the recently fallen Ulsan, but blocked by vanguard forces of the North Korean 12th Tank Regiment, they face utter annihilation.
To make matters worse, the North Koreans are taking no prisoners – especially if they happen to be American.
Will the survivors of the onslaught escape to the questionable safety of Busan? Or will they succumb to the deteriorating situation around them?
Only time will tell.
The General Plot
The retreating ROK/US troops have just crossed a bridge, throwing caution to the wind in a desperate effort to escape the massacres taking place a few clicks north of their position. The bulk of the North Korean forces are not far behind them, however the vanguard of these forces are already way ahead.
Crossing the bridge, the ROK/US column comes under immediate small arms fire from nearby tree lines, forcing them to defend themselves. However, they can't simply sit back and wait to pick off the enemy, because in a matter of hours the main advancing forces of the North Korean 12th Tank Batallion will be rolling up their rear.
This means one thing, onwards!
Elements of the ROK 3rd Mechanised Infantry Regiment have made contact, and are fighting a tenacious defence of a nearby farm. Their commanding officer has been ordered to keep the evacuation route open, but they can only hold on for so long.
The following tactical reconnaissance photographs progress from left to right, geographically speaking. Suspected NK positions and known NK positions have been high lighted.
If the battered ROK/US column can reach the farm, there is hope for them to join in the defence of Busan. If they don't? Well, I'm sure the North Koreans will present them with cosy hospitality.
Character Sheet
Players can take on the roll of any rank. The column has some Bradleys and Korean LVTs, which players are welcome to pilot should they wish. I'll even allow a tank or two. Air support is a no-go currently, but will become available as/when the RP progresses towards Busan.
Alternatively, players can choose to create North korean characters who will become the sentient apparatus of the 12th Tank Battalion's vanguard.
As war is Hell, and chaotic, I think i'll opt for a no-character sheet style approach, and simply allow players to join at will.
However as GM I reserve the right to block or banish problematic players.
Alternatively, players can choose to create North korean characters who will become the sentient apparatus of the 12th Tank Battalion's vanguard.
As war is Hell, and chaotic, I think i'll opt for a no-character sheet style approach, and simply allow players to join at will.
However as GM I reserve the right to block or banish problematic players.
Really? No one wants to wage a war against zombie mutants?
But... but there was gonna be loads of explosions and gore :( also, maybe blackjack and hookers.
EDIT: Well, the people have spoken.
But... but there was gonna be loads of explosions and gore :( also, maybe blackjack and hookers.
EDIT: Well, the people have spoken.
Actually, scratch everything I just said.
As a European, the Confederate Flag's prevalence does seem odd to me, but I see it in the same way as I see flags that are used for a nation's various counties/provinces.
A bit like the UK, with Scotland, Wales and England all technically having their own flag.
So yeah, to me the Confederate Flag is just what Southern States use to signify their individualism, culture and history.
Which to me, is a problem, considering exactly what that culture and history concerned.
So now we have a whole bunch of idiots defiantly flying that flag, knowing full well the controversy surrounding it, and a bunch of idiots allowing themselves to be actively trolled by it. It's a typical circle jerk.
Looking at your country, and how backwards it is from a social standpoint, I don't think removing the flag or banning it from public spaces will do anything. In my humble opinion, your racism problems transcend human logic, and will not be resolved for at least a couple more centuries.
And there's my huge, under-informed sweeping opinion on matters. I hope you enjoyed it, now excuse me whilst I go back to Europe and rant about how much I hate Arabs surging through the EU's floodgates.
^ Joke, of course.
Now having said all that, England did terrible things under the banner of St. George, especially to the Welsh and the Irish, but you don't see those guys getting uppity about it do you? Your country is bizarre, so bizarre that I'm going to have to go and read up on what the fuck happened to you guys since Abe Lincoln tried to do some good in the world... because things aren't NOT supposed to progress this way, not in a country like yours, not with so much wealth and education.
So yeah, thanks for ruining my evening.
I'll report back once I have an actual grasp of the situation.
This post is just one giant nonsensical ramble, but I'ma post it anyway BECAUSE FUCK THE POLICE.
xxxxx
A bit like the UK, with Scotland, Wales and England all technically having their own flag.
So yeah, to me the Confederate Flag is just what Southern States use to signify their individualism, culture and history.
Which to me, is a problem, considering exactly what that culture and history concerned.
So now we have a whole bunch of idiots defiantly flying that flag, knowing full well the controversy surrounding it, and a bunch of idiots allowing themselves to be actively trolled by it. It's a typical circle jerk.
Looking at your country, and how backwards it is from a social standpoint, I don't think removing the flag or banning it from public spaces will do anything. In my humble opinion, your racism problems transcend human logic, and will not be resolved for at least a couple more centuries.
And there's my huge, under-informed sweeping opinion on matters. I hope you enjoyed it, now excuse me whilst I go back to Europe and rant about how much I hate Arabs surging through the EU's floodgates.
^ Joke, of course.
Now having said all that, England did terrible things under the banner of St. George, especially to the Welsh and the Irish, but you don't see those guys getting uppity about it do you? Your country is bizarre, so bizarre that I'm going to have to go and read up on what the fuck happened to you guys since Abe Lincoln tried to do some good in the world... because things aren't NOT supposed to progress this way, not in a country like yours, not with so much wealth and education.
So yeah, thanks for ruining my evening.
I'll report back once I have an actual grasp of the situation.
This post is just one giant nonsensical ramble, but I'ma post it anyway BECAUSE FUCK THE POLICE.
xxxxx
The year is 1989, and the day is Thursday, June the 1st.
The world as we know it, is no more. Now, there is only war of the most horrifying kind.
Humanity stands on the verge of extinction, diminished and butchered by an alien fungus.
How the fungus arrived, we do not know. When it arrived, we do not know.
We know only that when it reared its ugly head, it spread rapidly.
The victims of the airborne fungus were mutated into shambling beasts of rotting flesh.
These mutants feel no fear, they feel only hatred. Hatred for us.
And in a year of horror, of absolute terror, they humbled us.
Half the known world has already fallen, and the other half is set to follow it.
If we are to stand a chance at surviving this foreign parasite, then we must locate the source.
Early reports pinned the fungus to North Korea; it is here we hope to find answers.
Elements of the Warsaw Pact have fought their way across China, and are now are on the borders of North Korea.
A lone town, Kung-Gol stands in their way.
Exhausted, they dispatch Task Force Roman, an elite team of Polish soldiers, to sterilise the town and clear the way.
This is their story.
The world as we know it, is no more. Now, there is only war of the most horrifying kind.
Humanity stands on the verge of extinction, diminished and butchered by an alien fungus.
How the fungus arrived, we do not know. When it arrived, we do not know.
We know only that when it reared its ugly head, it spread rapidly.
The victims of the airborne fungus were mutated into shambling beasts of rotting flesh.
These mutants feel no fear, they feel only hatred. Hatred for us.
And in a year of horror, of absolute terror, they humbled us.
Half the known world has already fallen, and the other half is set to follow it.
If we are to stand a chance at surviving this foreign parasite, then we must locate the source.
Early reports pinned the fungus to North Korea; it is here we hope to find answers.
Elements of the Warsaw Pact have fought their way across China, and are now are on the borders of North Korea.
A lone town, Kung-Gol stands in their way.
Exhausted, they dispatch Task Force Roman, an elite team of Polish soldiers, to sterilise the town and clear the way.
This is their story.
Intel suggests that over 600 souls dwelt here, before the fungus struck
Our recon informs us that the infected are indeed still in the area.
Narrow streets offer them an advantage; enclosed structures will become a killing ground.
They know we are coming, and the cost shall be great, but we have little choice. We need the road that passes through the town, for finding another route will cause too much of a delay. Millions of these mutants are on our heels, and stopping for even a day will spell the end for all mankind. We are the last hope of an entire species.
The infected have grown increasingly intelligent over the last twelve months, and now seem to operate on a hive-like intelligence. Where the theoretical queen is, we do not know, but we believe that something is controlling them. North Korea is our best bet.
Our armies are exhausted, and Task Force Roman is the only combat effective unit we can spare from the rearguard action taking place a few miles to our northern flank. It falls to them to clear way for us.
Though maybe Korea will not hold the answers we seek; perhaps we are simply wasting the last of our military might on a fruitless endeavour... perhaps... this war is already lost.
Though maybe Korea will not hold the answers we seek; perhaps we are simply wasting the last of our military might on a fruitless endeavour... perhaps... this war is already lost.
But if humanity is to fall, then it will not be with a whimper, but with an almighty bang. We will sooner scorch this world with nuclear fire, than cede it to an enemy that holds no mercy.
We're bombarding the town before Task Force Roman attacks. Our hopes are to flatten the mutants into the ground, but history has taught us that such hopes are ultimately futile. In the end, it will come down to the brave men and women of Task Force Roman to get us through the Gates of Hell.
A few dozen men, a single T-72, and a couple of SKOT-2A APCs are the dying gasp of the famed Red Army. Into Hell, these brave few shall descend, but God willing, they will become our saviours over the next hours of brutal combat.
Welcome!
This is a combat-focused PVE based RP, where players take on the roll of cold-war Era Polish soldiers, fighting a brutal urban battle with infected mutants.
I hope you enjoyed the artsy dramatic intro, and I hope it's bought your interest.
Do we have any takers for this horror-military RP? If so, I'll work on creating the character sheet, and the rules, and we should be off to a fairly speedy start.
*** U N D E R C O N S T R U C T I O N ***
This RP is still in very early stages. However, I've placed it here so that people may show interest, offer criticisms and suggest ideas as it evolves. Please note that I have not set a deadline on this project, and at the moment it is merely a hobby.
Life In the Belt
The S-Type asteroids Espolla, Theater and Coyama were colonised by Earth in the 24th century.
RP Summary
- Characters are workers based on the three asteroids.
- The game world is a small scale sandbox, with full freedom of movement.
- From the start of the RP, and intermittently after, the GM will create disasters that the characters must face. - Not so sure about this anymore. Let me finish building the world, then I'll get back to it.
RP Story
By 2121, Earth was on the verge of a wide-reaching civil war. With an unsustainable population, and steadily depleting resources, military clashes were erupting across the borders of a dozen nations. The United States vied with China, Russia with Europe, and India with everyone. Every oil well, every patch of arable land and every ore vein became a scene of potentially catastrophic flash points. Nuclear arms were poised to strike at the drop of the pin, and each day ushered in more fears of mutually assured destruction.
Mankind had unwittingly walked into the very fate he had sworn to avoid. Unwilling to switch from fossil fuels at a rate that would accommodate their depletion, developed nations had been taken almost by complete surprise by the shortage of resources - despite decades of warning from leading scientists and think tanks. Their infrastructures were unable to withstand a sudden switch to renewable energy, and so naturally, national leaders projected their countrymen's aggression away from themselves, and towards their neighbours.
Thankfully, some men and women with sense, and of positions of power, pooled their resources. It was immediately understood that humanity had committed a grave and stupid error. The only remedy to the situation, would be to obtain resources from elsewhere to buy time for the switch to renewable sources. Immediately probes were dispatched to the Asteroid Belt to look for precious metals and other valuable resources.
Gaining support from governments world wide, these forward looking individuals established the United Nations Space Command - a globalised body dedicated to exploring and colonising space, with the aim of securing much needed materials for Earth. The Moon was colonised in short order, and by 2125 had three functioning titanium ore mines.
The influx of precious metals, though expensive, eased world tensions slightly. The prospect that harvesting more materials from space was a viable idea, eased them even more.
The Asteroid Belt provided a great opportunity of resource exploitation. Many of the belt's asteroids were rich in precious metals, and although these would do little to dent the hurt caused by the lack of fossil fuels on Earth, they at least provided a life line to the faltering economies of many nations.
Ceres, Vesta, and Pallas, and Hygiea, the largest asteroids of the belt were colonised in 2200. By now, global tensions had thawed and the threat of a future Resource War looked unlikely. Industries had finally adapted to renewable energy, despite the decades of collapse caused by fossil fuel depletion. However, Earth's population was still increasing; materials were becoming harder to obtain, despite the UNSC's expanding mining programmes. Therefore, more money was poured into the organisation, and more asteroids were colonised. Aspiring minds started to look to Mars.
This pattern of systematic resource accumulation continued into the 24th century. By then, the UNSC had become marginalised by the divided powers of Earth. Heated political debates about asteroid ownership were held daily, and once again, weapons of mass destruction were being waved around like bananas in a cage full of gorillas. It seemed the Resource War had only been averted, and that ultimately, it was inevitable.
Then, in 2321, the Deep Seam Mining Installation on Ceres was struck by a terrorist attack. More specifically, its anti-impact missile defence systems were disabled as they targeted a meteorite on course for the Dwarf planet. The damage caused by the impact was complete, and led to a 100% fatality rate across Ceres. At the time, Ceres was heavily funded by the U.S government, and Chinese saboteurs were blamed, despite the nation's denial.
This led to a retaliation, and the Chinese bases on Pallas and Vesta suffered catastrophic disasters... and so began a shadow war of industrial sabotage.
It wasn't long until a full scale war broke out on Earth, and in space.
World War Three lasted just seven hours, and caused two billion casualties. The powers, destroyed as they were, and riddled with radioactive wastelands, signed a peace treaty after realising the folly of such a war. For the next 80 years, the UNSC would resume impartial control of all off-world installations, and a slow-disarmament programme on Earth was initiated.
It is now the year 2421. There hasn't been a war in a century. Earth is healing from the scars caused from World War Three's nuclear fire, and relations between states has never been better. Yet, little known to the world, another catastrophe is about to fall upon Man.
For from the darkness of space, do menacing eyes observe.
The Asteroids
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