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What are you all working on right now? I presume you're piecing together your characters, and I'd love to hear who they are going to be, even just as broad concepts yet.

Maybe @Bartimaeus and @Ashgan would like to discuss how we're going to start off the story for your finished characters?

Sure we can. So I don't know too much about how you envisioned starting things off, Jack, but I reckon it might make sense for Adelicia to have made the journey to the new Paleblood Hunters in order to impart her blessing upon the "newborn" hunters. But I'm open to other, more interesting and/or perilous premises also, depending on what avails itself.

Fyi, if too few people express interest in false Paleblood Hunters, I could conceivably make one also and play it on the side, just to play along. You clearly have ideas for them. :)
Gascoigne is pretty awesome, yeah. It wasn't supposed to be him, but it would be in the spirit of the game to leave it up to the reader to speculate. Personally, though, I think Gascoigne wasn't that close to the Healing Church (he was foreign, after all) and so would likely not have been tasked with such delicate things. Moreover, having daughters of his own, I doubt he'd have felt positive about the assignment.
Real men play Bloodborne under some kind of challenge mode. I suppose I signed up for one with this character.

Well, Jack, you know I'm down ;P
As far as preliminary character ideas goes, I think I'll go with one of the "super not recommended" ones... I'll work on playing a church Blood Saint. Indoctrinated by the church, she'd live under delusions of divinity, basing her self worth off of her ability to bless the people with the gift of the godhead from her veins.

This also means that, should anyone be interested, there is a possible spot for a church hunter to play the guardian and warden for her. Incense only does so much to ward off the diseased, and the scent of her blood drives most beasts mad with desire once they catch a whiff of it.
Yo Nate. I’ve a few points I want to address regarding your CS. While nothing strictly breaks the rules or setting, there are elements I would like to see you expand on:

-A little bit of extra info on NRC would not be amiss. The character sheet is a little Spartan in terms of information in general and, since the character is a robot, it would perhaps make sense to focus less on the unit and more on the manufacturer. Perhaps explaining the acronym would be a fine start ;)

-Age and sex on a robot? Age I can at least understand if we count its years of service, although I would vehemently argue that a 24 year old robot is certainly not cutting edge anymore today. Even if he’s been upgraded over that time, I feel like serious concerns could be had over the viability of a company’s robots if they have kept the same basic chassis for almost a quarter of a century. I’m not saying that’s not possible, but they would certainly raise some eyebrows and have to prove themselves against the myriad criticisms and questions from both their customers and rival competitors.

-This one’s more of a personal and vague one, and might just be down to the sparseness of information in the sheet, but I wonder in what ways the character would be fun to write. You seem to describe an apathetic drone whose purpose is limited to protecting designated targets. That would make a fine NPC, but you’re choosing this as your main. Am I missing a detail here? And I want to stress I don’t say this in a mean-spirited way; I’m wondering for your sake. I want everyone to have fun in this.
Also bear in mind that we do live in a setting where AI is regarded as dangerous and is heavily regulated by the government. That doesn’t mean that companies aren’t necessarily trying to develop that kind of illegal tech anyway and perhaps disguise their efforts to the public, but it’s something to be aware of when deciding how intelligent your android should be. For reference, MRS (Parzivol’s corp) is very much walking that legal tightrope, and probably has a number of secrets in their basement they don’t want Origin to see while A10, his robot character, is smarter than it makes people think it is.

-You are free to ignore my last point, but I wanted to briefly address it nonetheless as it is my personal bias: I’ll be honest and say that I feel we may want more human characters than robots right now. But I also felt a bit apprehensive when Parzivol submitted his robots, and he has absolutely sold me on his concept since. Thusly I don’t want to stop anyone from doing the same thing again if it is their wont.

Posting this in the thread for ease of reference but if there's any point you want to further discuss, feel free to hit me up on Disco if you want.
Yo there, @Nate1008. It's absolutely not dead, we just handle OOC communication via Discord. Feel free to hop in and chat us up!
Struggling for control of her emotions, Sophia’s porcelain face was marred by the slightest hint of a frown as she coldly looked at the three robots. The first thing her feelings reminded her of was the frustration she felt in her first year at the New Constantinople University. Being treated as expendable – as someone who, in all likelihood, would drop out by the end of the first semester – and being constantly faced with her own ignorance, had been one of the worst experiences of her life. The number of times both her teachers and her parents had berated her for misremembering obscure details or failing to meet impossible deadlines was too great to consider; and the things she had considered doing – and sometimes had done – to get some reprieve from it all… better not to dwell on it. Besides, it had made her a better person in the end.

“My full name,” white-hairs sharply added after Mavriq designated her role and offered her a brief pause in speech to interject in, “is Sophia Arietta Hagiotheodorites. I won’t insist, lieutenant d’Agenais, but you could try.”

After punishing Mavriq with a brief, wintry stare to make sure he understood her displeasure, she returned her attention to the trio of androids who appeared to acknowledge her input. At least they would not mispronounce her name, she hoped, although not even of that she could be sure of these days. Personality imprints had become as pervasive and irritating as a new disease with no known cure. Everywhere she turned, machines were pretending to be human, wearing friendly faces like grisly masks to hide their uncaring algorithms. She was not a Luddite or paranoid like some; indeed, she liked machines. But she much preferred them to avoid falling into the depths of the uncanny valley. The pursuit of imprinting human personas on artificial constructs was not only a waste of resources but also a pointless endeavor that produced only the stuff of nightmares.


A little while later, as the group reemerged into the public section of the MOS, Vin, the augmented tech specialist of the team, turned to the others and, surprisingly, offered to have a drink together. Sophia hadn’t taken him for that kind of socialite and felt strangely humbled by her misinterpretation of his character. Even so, the idea of going to a pub thoroughly disgusted her in more ways than she could logically enumerate in her head before feeling pressured for an answer. What little hesitation she had, however, was enough for Cass – that crude, underprivileged and thoroughly dangerous woman – to take the initiative and once again prove just how vulgar her sensibilities were.

“Fuck yeah,” she exclaimed with a maddened grin, offering her fist to Vin – presumably expecting some tribal, gesture-based response to underline their mutual approval. Sophia rolled her eyes.

“I’m afraid I have other business that needs attending,” Sophia cut in, somewhat raising her voice in order to be heard over both Cass’s excitement, and the din of the street. “But I am sure we will have ample opportunities to socialize in the future. So – until next time, ladies and gents.”

Barely waiting for any sort of answer, Sophia awkwardly shuffled off and disappeared in the crowd, headed off to who knows where. Probably to a personal luxury shuttle, if Cass were to take a guess. Not that she cared at that moment.

“Whatever,” she shrugged, “I’m down for drinking all night if you want. I haven’t felt this awesome in like, forever. What about you, boss?”

She turned from Vin to shoot a questioning glance at Mavriq, who appeared momentarily surprised by the current turn of events himself.
Sophia’s shoulders sagged, and she barely caught herself from producing a sigh of relief when the room emptied. It occurred to her just how stuffy the chamber had been, and how fresh the air felt now that the overbearing stench of humankind had lessened. Yes, she was a doctor and it was her calling, nominally, to help people. And help them she wanted to – but that did not mean she had to like people. Especially not the kind of freaks the MOS seemed to produce on a regular.

Hopefully she would not have to endure much more of their kind, now that she was accepted into the away team, a factoid that did not surprise or elate her in the slightest. Of course she was accepted; there had never been any alternative to this. Rejection was but an inconceivable impossibility, something that had never crossed her mind for even a second.

When approached by the able-bodied and terse Fuertes, the comparatively frail-looking woman flinched just a bit before reason caught up with her. Flashing a fake but well-trained smile and a courteous nod, she accepted the files handed to her and began their perusal. Within moments of studying the document, she was already beginning to notice dozens of things she once considered indispensable to be missing from her provisions. Clearly, work on the MOS was going to be a very different matter from working in a high-tech lab on Earth.

“Any questions?” she heard coming from the front where Mavriq, the de facto leader of the team, roused himself from his desk.

“Actually, yes,” Sophia chirped up, her voice high-pitched and prickly like a bird’s. “There’s a significant number of absolutely critic-“

“Holy shit!” someone exclaimed behind her, too close for comfort. She cringed and glared over her shoulder to see Cass staring wide-eyed at her own folio. “Is this real? For that kind of money I’d do absolutely anything you want me to.”

She might even try to be nice, she thought. While she was not able to do the math on how long it would take her to pay off her debt on the quick, the raw number of the paycheck absolutely dwarfed what Mercury was paying her for their jobs. Though excited, the nagging knowledge of how badly her employer was exploiting her, made manifest in numbers, was beginning to really piss her off too. Either that, or it was the lack of any nicotine in the past hour.

“Would you mind?” Sophia snapped, exasperated. “I’m trying to-“

With fate itself seemingly aligned against the pristine-haired woman, she was cut off again, this time by the sharp sound of the mechanical door opening up. Sophia, with eyes that could murder, glared at the three androids bumbling into the room, unaccompanied apparently, as if they had every reason to be there.

As the robots introduced themselves, their purpose and their need for input, the room fell awkwardly silent. Sophia was seemingly not the only one caught off guard by the sudden visit. Not far from her, Cass visibly tensed up and found herself absentmindedly reaching for her hip, grasping at an empty place. In the lack of a familiar steel grip, she suddenly felt rather naked. Then she chided herself, gently easing up on her posture again. They weren’t on Derelict, and these weren’t alien machines. Just some friendly neighborhood droids from some company or another. No reason to be antsy, after all.
“About time,” Cass scoffed under her breath, face twisted into an impatient frown. She sat, cross-legged, somewhere in the middle of a colorful crowd of would-be Derelict delvers both experienced and green. Some had appeared in their most formal suits, all groomed up and prepared to present themselves as their best. There were those who came in their military uniforms, borrowed or real, to show that they meant business. And then there were those who looked like they threw on the first thing they found this morning – or, perhaps, it was the only thing they had. But appearance alone did not make the candidate, Cass judged; those who talked about how excited they were, those who played on their phones, those who looked nervous… they were all standing in line for their turn to walk into a hell they were not prepared for. Derelict wasn’t a museum or a theme park. It was a war zone. It ate men alive and spat out broken bodies and corpses. Normal people, the unbroken and those who had something to lose, had no place in Derelict. They would soon understand this, but by then it might be too late.

Tough luck. Cass unfolded her legs and set her right foot down with a light clank, then straightened herself and sat upright. Taking her eyes off the unfortunates around her, she focused her attention on the officers that had just entered the room. Rigid. Formal. Just like the organization they worked for. She watched introductions go by, but had already guessed the respective roles of the two before they opened their mouths. The scientist, a certain d’Agenais, was easy to tell apart in this case. It wasn’t the unimpressive body stature or the glasses, both confirmed stereotypes in this case, but something in the way he looked at the people before him. Looked at her. A natural air of aloofness, if not necessarily superiority. A distance that that created a gulf between people who lived with their feet on solid ground and those who soared high above in the realm of theory and ideas. It was easy to recognize people like this for Cass; she was allergic to them.

After having introduced themselves and their mission, the pair of officers took their respective seats by a rudimentarily equipped desk and began calling candidates to the fore as they were marked on their checklist. Each given five minutes to present who they are, what they wish to do, and why they would be fit for the job. A simple sales pitch. A standardized, easy to process routine, almost mechanical in nature. Human society and their many social constructs were themselves like a machine, Cass found; chewing through human material as easily as Derelict, if not more so. But in this machine, she was the wrench in the gears.

“Name’s Cass,” she began, finally facing the officers herself after being summoned, “Just Cass. Last names aren’t a luxury we were given on Herakles.”

Meanwhile, in a front-row seat, a young woman wearing a formal blouse and skirt, looked appalled and shook her head. Snow-white locks fell forward as she dipped her head to look at the sizeable stack of papers and notes heaped upon her lap, where she scribbled still. Notes taken during the introduction, notes taken during the presentations. Cass, she wrote. Wound on left shoulder. Gunshot? Abnormal walk, coil whine. Augments?

“I’ve been here since the start,” the black-haired refugee at the front continued, “Came with Mercury and have been doing security for them since the first shuttles arrived. I’ve seen the orbit in flames long before I saw any Origin ships in the system. Earlier this week I ran my fifty-sixth expedition into Derelict.” She pointed at the bandage on her shoulder, all but confirming the note-taker’s suspicions about the nature of the wound.

“I guarantee that nobody else in this room has even half my experience. Some, I feel, have never been to Derelict at all.” She turned around briefly to look over the crowd, some of whom glared at her and some of whom were in awe. “I’ll be honest with you; I’m not the nicest person in this room. But, as a guide, I can get you out of Derelict alive in situations anyone else in here will definitely get you killed in. Your call, sirs.”

With this, she dropped her data slate on the desk where Fuertes snatched it up. White-hairs looked up at Cass as she walked by, the two briefly making eye contact. It was like the moment a tired old hound faces a hot-blooded young pup. No way in hell they’re accepting that hoodlum into their team, she thought as she tore her eyes from the confrontation and let her pass by. Was this the sort of people that came to Derelict? Filthy refugees from Herakles and other good-for-nothing lowlifes? She was close to regretting ever having come here. Was this the life she had sacrificed a bright career for? To dig in the mud alongside the dreck of society?

No. Composure, she told herself. This was exactly what she had given up her career for. To see the universe for what it truly was. To be at the forefront of discovery. To understand the world she lived in fully and definitely not to shut herself away in an ivory tower. That thought alone, the life her parents wanted her to have and the prospects she were given, sickened her enough to make the present seem far more palatable all of a sudden. But people, she found, were a rather acquired taste regardless.

White-hairs straightened her back and flipped the page over, pen in hand, eager to see who was next on the list. Cass, meanwhile, quietly returned to her seat, face dour as ever. She hated every second of standing over there; she’d felt like everybody was looking down on her. They were all attacking her for who she was and, unlike on Herakles, it was not the kind of problem a pair of bloody knuckles could solve. All she could do was swallow her anger. She’d done so before, and it never ended well. She closed her eyes, tilted back her head and let out a deep breath through her nose. It was over. All she had to do was to wait and hope.

And to look forward to visiting Alyx tonight; to report on the job application, of course.

Electrifying pain jolted through her bandaged-up shoulder but she did not wince or give an inch; the coil-gun held firm and steady on target. Only her lips pressed together in an angrily contorted grimace, signaling that the woman felt any injury at all. Brows furrowed, she focused her winter-grey eyes on the prize and tightened her grip on the trigger one more time.


The dud shattered harmlessly against the human-shaped practice target, indicating a hit where the left-side ribs should be. That was her last shot; nine rounds, seven hits, one head shot. She’d done much better in the past, but in the end it was all meaningless statistics. Real combat was nothing like firing at a target. Nothing in the world could emulate the physical and emotional chaos of two human beings trying to kill each other.

Cass closed her eyes and slowly exhaled, releasing the tension in her arm muscles and gently lowered her gun onto the counter. Rhythmically pulsing pain flared in her right shoulder and it felt hot under the bandage. Instinctively touching it, she immediately came to regret the decision and quickly retracted her fingers. She still asked herself if she had made the right call, or if it was merely carelessness that had let the situation get out of hand. The shooter was little more than a kid, trigger happy and nervous. She could have talked him down. That’s what she thought. But then something happened. Maybe she moved a little too suddenly, maybe the kid tripped. Maybe there had been an unexpected tremor in the ground. Something set him off and made him pull the trigger – but he was a poor shot. Hit her in the shoulder; she got him in the gut. The contracted medic zipped him up in a body bag and stabilized her wound with a skin spray and then they were off. Business as usual.

To get shot at for someone else’s gain. To kill clueless idiots so that other idiots can live. Business as usual, she thought and shook her head with a look of disgust while she removed the empty mag from her weapon and tossed it in a designated bin by her stall. Glancing at her watch, she turned to leave, signaling to an attendee outside that she was finished. She still had a few hours.


“Good shit, right?”

Cass watched as a sizeable puff of dark green smoke escaped her lungs out of her mouth, obscuring the viewport into space, wherein were clearly visible the dead surface of Derelict and, behind it, the hellish red glow of Maasym.

“Tastes fishy, I don’t know,” she mumbled, turning her attention to the girl with obviously-dyed blue hair who sat next to her. Of course, Cass knew about her profession but she was always freshly surprised by how brazenly the girl was wearing those perilously revealing outfits of hers on a daily basis – even when not on duty. No one passed her by without having their eyes stuck on her for a moment or two. Sometimes more than that.

“Algae from Europa. Come on Cass, do you know how much it costs to get that shit here?” She held out her hand and, when Cass handed her the inhaler, took in a deep breath of the synthetic substance herself.

“It’s all right. I just like to stick to the classics, you know me.” And also, this mix made her feel dizzy somehow. Perhaps it was spiked with something other than what Alyx was saying. Cass leaned back against the bench, arms and legs wide.

“No, I think you’re nervous,” Alyx suggested out of the cloud of green smoke surrounding her pretty head.

“Bullshit. What about?” Cass retorted, crossing her legs.

“You tell me. You know I’m good at telling these sorts of things. Comes with the job.” She shrugged.

“Maybe it’s my shoulder. You ever had a bullet go straight through yours?”

They swapped the inhaler again, Cass took another puff, this one with less enthusiasm than before. “I had a number of things in me but that’s not one of them.” She grinned, innocent as a girl.

“I’m gonna do a side gig. If they take me.” Cass eventually admitted after an awkward period of silence between the two, wordlessly passing the inhaler back and forth.

“Let me guess: More macho stuff?” blue-hairs teased, leaning closer and putting her slender hand on Cass’s cold iron thigh.

Cass gave her a look of disapproval. “Not much else I’m good for, is there?”

“You’re always so self-depreciating. Lighten up a bit, sunshine,” Alyx encouraged her and wrapped her arm around Cass’s shoulders, careful not to touch the bad one. “So what’s this one about?”

The taller, black-haired woman returned the gesture. “Origin, believe it or not. They’re setting up a new ground team for some scientist schmuck. They need someone to guide and protect them. Pay’s much better than what Mercury is giving me.”

“You’re doing that in your off time?” Alyx asked with concern. Cass nodded: “Whenever else would I?”

“So when are you actually going to take a break?”

The mercenary had no answer for her friend. If she ever wanted to be free from the shackles of corporate enslavement, if she ever wanted to be treated fairly and with respect again, then sacrifices like this were necessary. There was no other way she could ever collect the money necessary to pay off her mounting debt.

“Well… if you do ever need a break, then, you know. I’ve stopped charging you a while ago,” Alyx offered, almost sheepishly.

“Maybe I’ll drop by later,” Cass suggested absentmindedly. “To, to tell you how it went, I mean.“

The two of them sat for a while, each contemplating their lives so far as their gaze was absorbed by the crimson abyss of Maasym’s star.
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