[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/210925/c6e8cb8c69e21392adb93568c15f91b8.png[/img][/center] [hr] // Title: Living After Midnight - A Post-Dieselpunk Nation RP [color=BEBEBE] [I]The Age of Petrol and its consequences have had disastrous consequences for the human race. In 1935, what does not seem so long ago, the fragile status quo which presided over the World in the wake of the Great War would find itself in peacetime - and found itself lacking. Founded upon fragmented ideals baked behind half-witted land grabs and cynical imperialism, the simple compromises forced unto it could simply not stand the test of time. Even the [b]Assembly of Nations[/b] - for all the good it was founded upon - could only do so much to curb the forces it had so desperately attempted to curtail just years prior. A peace designed to last a thousand years scarcely lasted three decades, for little more than a generation after, the industrial world and tide of change would plummet the world into war once more. The dissatisfaction and discontent aroused by both the Great War and the influence of the Socialist International quickly gave rise to the most notorious and In their wake of this conflict - which had reduced women to but war-machines and gentlemen to gears - the unleashed might of the power of petrol and diesel unfurled itself with wrath so terrible as for all to know. Their victory would be accepted as nothing short of total - a task that all the powers of the world have apocalyptically agreed to. Naught ever dissuaded them before the gargantuan battle, and so it was that the teeth-clenched teamwork of the pact tore through the SocIntern - even as they forded the great oceans, shattered every cliff-bunker, marched through every village, and steadily grinded away any so foolish nor valiant to resist their advance. From this uncompromising slaughter, the heart of the SocIntern gradually collapsed, and, for that moment of hard-pressed victory, there was unity in the world. If only for a time. In the wake of the SocIntern's rotting corpse came the vultures and the worms to their carrion, each awaiting their turn at the feasting table as to how this great falling shall slake their appetites. Yet, like all old rivals, the goals of both these groups have done little aside from squabble aside. Between an iron curtain would the corpse of the country be divided amongst its victors, each spanning across a . But even with such catastrophe laid bare for all the world to see, not even the millions among the dead could hail prelude for what was to come next. [/i][/color]