Hm, could do that. Perhaps trip over Rinna on the way to the cafeteria. She's really short, so she'd definitely catch Brunhilde and Emi's eyes, I suspect. I was just going to mention seeing her on the way to the cafeteria rather than forcing interaction, but now that you mention it... Yo, @Karo, what2do?
Edit: Actually, yeah, let's not retcon what was already set in stone by going to the cafeteria. I'll do just a passing mention.
The world is shrouded in darkness. A massive Dyson Sphere covers the Sun, channeling all energy via extremely high power relay satellites back to the Earth, Mars, and the various moons of Jupiter and Saturn. As a result, there is no natural light in the solar system save for that of stars, which is faint at best.
Massive cities dot the landscape of Earth, towering into the sky, daring the gods to challenge them. The oldest and richest cities at New New York, Kyoto, Moscow, Dubai, and London even reached into space - marvels of modern engineering. Lights shone out in all directions from these cities, but it couldn't compare to the light of the sun that graced the land even at night before the Sphere came up. The areas between cities had crumbled, withered - all natural plantlife on the planet that demanded light had succumbed to starvation, and water almost never appeared inland due to a lack of rain. Even the winds had died.
Outside the Cities, the land was nearly pitch dark and completely hostile. The scraps of the city dwellers, thrown into enormous landfills, had given rise to a new pecking order. Hideous mutant beasts roamed the darkness, feeding on scraps and on one another. Cannibalistic wildlife was rampant. While there was non-animal life Outside, it predominantly consisted of various strange and disgusting fungi and extremophilic microbes. Bioluminescent life was rare, but not unheard of - and usually signified death to those who called the Outside home. A few very rare fungal 'trees' could be found, growing out of the filth of the junkyards' organic wastes and giving off a soft bluish-green glow, and communities of Outsiders would frequently spring up around them, though they wouldn't last long. There simply wasn't enough material to drive off the wild beasts for long.
Inside the Cities, however, life was strong, vibrant, chaotic. In most places, social classes were organized by height, with the homeless often surviving off of fallen scraps and living in ancient shells of buildings on the surface, and the rich living in decadent palaces atop the towering constructs. There was grass - flowers even - and many, many trees, growing from the planters that had been haphazardly placed along every reinforced walkway, every road. Moss, ferns, vines - everything - hung down from the towers. The Cities felt more like rainforests with metal trees than anything, and the citizens took great pride in their supposed dedication to life, never giving a thought to what things were like Outside.
City dwellers were often clamoring over one another to express their individuality, trying to prove who was the 'toughest' or the 'nicest' or the 'prettiest', and blended into one uniformly grotesque mass of cosmetic body modifications and cheap cybernetics, most of which didn't even operate as well as the original parts. Each district of each city had its own smell, its own flavors, and most of them weren't particularly good. To drive the value of money and power up, most of the manufacturing companies intentionally sold subpar products to those who couldn't afford to eat well. Cheap flour was cut with sawdust, 'cheese products' were a single covalent bond away from being inedible plastics... Even the meat wasn't quite real on the lower levels. But it was more genuine there, with less political maneuvering, less corruption.
In the upper levels, formalities took precedence over genuine behaviors, and visual modifications to the body were seen as disgusting. The food was formulated to perfectly satisfy each person's individual tastebuds, and fine cloths woven out of engineered synthetic fibers made up a fashion style that hearkened back to the turn of the 20th century and the outbreak of the first World War. They lived in a completely different world from those below, never having to care for anything beyond which petty insults had been thrown about that day. While some altruistic sorts did exist, who sought to help those below them, the majority felt they were above the rest of society (if you'll pardon the expression).
Vehicles by-and-large consisted of trains, trams, monorails, and elevators. Privately owned vehicles were only present in the top few miles of the cities, where excessive roads winding between the city plates and towering structures were deemed unsightly and done away with. Construction vehicles existed, of course, but those were operated exclusively by government contracting agencies, and losing track of one of such vehicles was a capital offense, as the last time one had gone missing, it turned up in the hands of a revolutionary group that proceeded to send the six mile tall Bank of Moscow headquarters toppling over the outer walls and into the Outside, killing two million people.
Earth Human: Your average, every-day, run-of-the-mill human. I certainly hope you're acquainted with them already.
Goblin: The need for maintenance workers who were light and agile enough, yet strong enough, to do work within the City's ventilation, sewage, and hydration systems prompted research into genetic modifications. First-generation Goblins were effectively just normal humans with intentionally induced Dwarfism, but subsequent generations gradually grew to have sharper night vision, larger ears, longer and stronger fingers and toes, and tougher hides. So far, there have been six generations of Goblin gene pools, and many of the members of the first generations were still alive and well, leading to some intraracial squabbling over originality and perfection.
Average height: 4'0". Average weight: 70 lbs.
Ogre: Manual laborers, designed to be simple-minded, asexual, and extremely strong. The Ogre has been present for hundreds of years, and is responsible for much of the early construction of the great towering cities. Biological ethics boards decried the development of such a creature, declaring it immoral and cruel to try to remove so many important aspects of humanity. But profit took precedence, and the project took off rather quickly. It turns out it's easier to just breed more creatures than to program AI to understand complex instructions without going rampant. All Ogres come from a similar genetic stock, though they are artificially bred with some variation to prevent identity issues from damaging their productivity. Typically, they lack any sort of hair whatsoever, and are roughly as muscular as a bear would be.
Average height: 6'7". Average weight: 450 lbs.
Marsian: Standard humans exposed to several generations of lower gravity. They have a thin, stretched out appearance, and stand roughly eight inches taller than Earthlings. While they can handle Earth gravity reasonably well, they generally grow rather exhausted very quickly. The average Marsian lifespan is 10% longer than that of Earthling humans, and they are now just barely biologically distinct enough to qualify as a separate species, even though interbreeding is still possible.
Average height: 6'10". Average weight: 170 lbs.
Moonite: Those who inhabit the surface of any satellite. Their appearances are typically a more extreme version of what one would see in the Marsians. Lightly blue-tinted skin and thicker blubber than average ensure that the Moonites are well-suited to the freezing environments of the fringe settlements. If the Marsians qualify as a distinct species, then the Moonites almost certainly do.
Average height: 6'11". Average weight: 200 lbs.
Spacer: Not a biologically distinct species, as breeding in microgravity has proven to often be extremely dangerous for long term colonization. Regardless of this, they have the most 'alien' appearance of all of the unmodified human species, and tend to creep people out. One is only a Spacer if they were born and raised in microgravity, and has suffered all of the problems associated with it. Spacers tend to die fairly quickly without medical intervention, on account of cardiovascular, pulmonary, and digestive problems.
Average height: 7'2". Average weight: 150 lbs.
Outsider: Those Earthlings who have grown up on Earth, technically, but are from outside the cities. Life in the darkness has made them sensitive to light and given them extremely pale skin. The oldest Outsider bloodlines have, like the Moonites, developed thick layers of blubber rather than ordinary fat, and have slightly larger eyes than an ordinary human. Aside from the skin quality and the size of their eyes, though, they are totally indistinguishable from ordinary humans. Generally, Outsiders live in a sort of vaguely tribal, scavenger style society, with extremely little access to modern technology. Expect one who enters the cities for the first time to be mystified.
Synthetic Human: Indistinguishable in all ways from other forms of human, except for two: The nervous system is entirely made up of artificial neurons, and their features are sometimes perfected down to scientific accuracy, depending on the wishes of the user. Extremely rare.
Cybernetic Hardware: Exactly what it says on the label. This category covers all large artificial prosthetic devices, and is extremely common in the middle and lower levels.
Cybernetic Nanotechnology: Improvements made to the body on a microscopic level are the result of a massive quantity of nanites flooding the bloodstream. Individual modifications are possible via downloads of nanite programs, and the nanites function effectively as a hive mind to complete instructions. Very expensive and uncommon, as nanotech cybernetics are difficult to police. With such devices, a person may use their entire body as a hidden weapon.
Mind-Uploading: Still in experimental phases. A few volunteers have undergone radical neurological modifications - specifically, replacing every single neuron with an artificial variant. After the modification of the nervous system reaches total completion, even all the way down to the toes, the cells begin transferring their functionality one-by-one via wireless signal to an externally hosted processor, maintaining a singular stream of consciousness throughout the entire process. The person's mind, once uploaded, is different from what it had been while housed in an organic body, and lacks influences such as hormone production and selective memory. Mind-uploaded individuals still retain their desires and biological urges, though, and utilize synthetic bodies - or avatars - to continue their existence in society. Generally, a person who is considered 'unnaturally attractive' is, indeed, unnatural, as they possess a Designer Avatar. Those who have undergone this process are extraordinarily rare. A Mind-Upload's personality is determined by the specifications of their chosen Avatar, and as such, they can swap personalities by swapping bodies. Unfortunately, it's not a wireless connection, so the Avatar being killed kills the Mind-Uploadee.
Long-range communications & energy transfer: Exactly what it says on the label. Humanity has perfected nearly instantaneous communications via lightweight wormhole technologies, and that includes the transference of energy that can be converted to usable electricity on the receiving end. The waystations for this FTL technology, however, are extraordinarily large, generally being several dozens of miles in diameter. As such, they only exist in the form of artificial satellites and megaconstructs on planetary and satellite/moon surfaces.
Spacecraft: As nice as it would be, wormhole technology does not yet permit for the transportation of matter. Top scientists theorize that it would take a further five thousand years to achieve that level of technological development at the current growth rate, by which time it wouldn't even be necessary on account of humanity merely being a single massive hivemind computer. Because of this, rocketry is still a flourishing field. Antigravity doesn't yet exist, but thrust can now be maintained in a manner that roughly imitates it, and ships often leave orbit by brute forcing their way through the atmosphere rather than taking the much more efficient orbital arc pattern that dominated space travel until the year 2300.
The RP itself
A group of terrorists, the Icarus Initiative, has been widely publicized by the media in recent days. They claim to want to change the world, to want to destroy the Solar Collective that owns the Sun and all power production in the system. Small-scale bombings have been happening at power waystations near cities, causing small-scale brownouts, and the Icarus Initiative has started making threats to bomb the Transfer Stations #4 and #7, which provide solar energy to the entire tower-city of New New York. Rumors are flying around society of the Icarus Initiative having obtained nuclear weapons, and the bottom levels of New New York have become a propaganda battlefield.
Those with their heads screwed on straight recognize that cutting power to the city would do nothing but rapidly cause the death of over four billion of its citizens, with the other several hundred million scattering to the Outside. Prospects for long-term survival only cover 0.1% of those in the city, and a panic is rising. As bad as things are for people, nobody particularly wants to die over it, and rewards are being offered by the thinly stretched police force for information regarding the heads of the Icarus Initiative - or, even better, the heads of the heads of the Icarus Initiative.
There are no real restrictions on who can join the hunt, so long as the hunt is completed before catastrophe strikes. Any age group, any race, any species, any social class. It doesn't matter - and the reward for success is both fame and enough money to sent a bum from the trash-covered bottom level to the upper palaces of the nobility, if they feel the inclination to do so. The recruitment is, as of yet, small in scale, and old-fashioned paper flyers have been posted on bulletin boards throughout the city where anyone can see them and take a copy. The first business meeting for the would-be Hunters would be in a hipster-operated coffee shop on Level 3A, which was only six hundred feet above the ground, at the cross of Cunningham St., Biker's Lane, and The First Ascent. Apparently Starbucks had managed to grow into a police-sponsored meeting place.
All events in this RP are set to occur in and around New New York. The number of possible locations within the city is pretty intense, so if you can think of a place, it probably exists there.
Name:
Age: (16-200)
Species: (From provided list)
Current Appearance: (Pictures okay, text descriptions preferred)
Gatherin' interest. Lemme know if this sounds cool, eh? And dump a character sheet if you're feeling up to it, too. I'd like to get a feel for what kind of adventuring party I'd be looking at. I don't care if half of the party is made up of mind-uploads running around in 17-year-old avatars wielding vibro-katanas and nanotech 'magic', so long as it's interesting and fits the theme.
Post length doesn't bother me too much as long as there's enough content for everyone else to work with - so, basically, I'd prefer anywhere between a paragraph and a half a novel.
Avarius watched in anticipation as the giant ball floated through the air towards Emi. She was not positioned correctly to wear its full shadow. More so he was looking forward to see how well Brunhilde could 'read the air' when it was thrown back. These games while simple and fun would build the fundamentals and foundations of many greater and more advanced skills to come later on. He couldn't be happier with the way things had fallen into place, these two would make for an excellent partnership.
Emi stood ready and threw the ball at the small girl, when she did she looked after it for a moment and closed her eyes just before Brundhilde catched it. She waited a while and clearly looked liked she didn't have any idea it had been throw yet. She was foccusing on the sound of the ball being thrown but clealy hadn't heard it. Just before it passed above her she felt that feeling again. A shadow close by. It looked like an empty bright white room with a faded black round shadow quickly comming closer towards her. She almost instantly threw her arms into the air to catch the ball from her relaxed position. She was close but it had bounched from her arm again.
"Uwaa waaa!"
She stretched out forward trying to catch the ball again still with her eyes closed. She was balancing on one leg and bounced it up a few times with her random swinging arms as she tried focusing again. Just when she was about to tip over she caught the ball and clutched it to her chest as she fell over and landed on her back as her eyes shot open.
"Oof!"
She wrote the answer on the ball and continued the exercise. It was a simple multiplying so she could handle it.
Brunhilde stifled a giggle at Emi's unscheduled collision with the ground, knowing full-well that she'd likely have to pay for it in the future. She closed her eyes as the instructions she wrote in her journal had instructed and waited for her partner to continue. The two passed the ball back and forth for some time, writing answers and oftentimes totally missing the ball. It was pretty low mass, so rather than shoving the air out of the way, it more walked on top of the air, which really threw Brunhilde off. About a quarter of the way through the exercise, Brunhilde felt something that wasn't the ball.
Brunhilde was momentarily distracted after feeling some faint tremors in the air, coming from the direction of one of the further buildings. She'd been feeling for the ball's presence and the unexpected vibrations distracted her a bit. It felt like a few bombs had just gone off, but it wasn't quite violent or loud enough to be an actual weapon. Maybe some of the other students had some something stupid. It was a violent feeling, though, and it worried her a bit. The tremors stopped shortly, though, and she decided to pay it no mind - though she did make a note in the journal reminding herself to constantly use her air sense in case something bad happened, spending a few extra seconds while she answered an easy question.
The bell signaling the lunch period rang out across the campus. Loudly. Brunhilde was focusing intensely on catching the beach ball when it happened, and yelped in surprise at both the sound of the bell and the beach ball bouncing off of her face. She scrambled to try to find the ball, wondering what the bell signified. The ball found her feet first, though, and she stumbled over it, just barely managing to save some tiny part of her dignity by grabbing it off the ground before falling over.
"The others have started lunch, I hope you are nearly complete." True enough they nearly were and Avarius was fully aware as he had been counting every throw. As the girls finished the last of the questions Avarius explained the location of the dormitories and the cafeteria.
"38" Avarius calls out as the last questioned is answered. "Class will resume in 38 minutes, with or without you" "Enjoy your lunch. You deserve it", he finished, waving the girls off to their first meal of the school year.
...
They were late for lunch by a few minutes. Brunhilde didn't particularly care, though, seeing as how she didn't realize it. As far as she knew, there hadn't even been a bell, and nothing about it was written in the journal. Avarius's mention of the dormitories was first and foremost on her mind, as she wasn't terribly hungry. A screwy sleep schedule, brain damage, and a weird eating schedule at home would throw anyone's appetite off until a solid schedule was built up.
"Oh, that's right. Completely forgot this was a boarding school. Hope I don't get saddled with a bad roommate..."
Preferably someone who's had experience with family or friends with severe memory loss, she thought. There were too many things resting on the requirement of either being alone or being with someone who could at the very least be taught how to deal with her in the case of something happening. The journal entry from four days prior mentioned that her family had faxed over the pertinent medical records, contact information, etc., so she didn't think that she had too much to worry about. If push came to shove, she could probably somehow force herself to deal with someone who at the very least never, ever interacted with her. But that sort of problem was at least twenty-five minutes off from being possible to deal with, and she made a note to check it all out. She turned towards Emi and offered her free hand.
"So, to the cafeteria then?"
Regardless of whether Emi accepted her hand, she wandered off towards the building Avarius had indicated.
Sam Duval went mostly unnoticed as he made his way to The Mountain tavern. Periodically he would pass a traveler, but none paid him any heed - perhaps he looked too much like a beggar in his current hooded robe. He was still in Ruritania, so he felt that he would be wise to keep his identity hidden until he reached his destination. It was still extremely dark out - perhaps around 3:00 AM. The moon was going down again, and the starlight was only barely enough for him to see the road.
He could smell the swamp from where he was, and it was still a bit over an hour's walk to reach The Mountain tavern. A massive mosquito landed on his shoulder, then mostly fell off, onto the ground. Its legs were still attached to Sam's cloak, and he flipped a Two of Clubs around between his fingers a couple times before shuffling it back into his deck.
Further walking eventually revealed the figure of the tavern in the shadows, gleaming with lantern light. Sam hurried his pace and saw that the place was an absolute wreck. Probably tended by a fat ogre or something. This place is a total dump, he thought to himself. The stench wasn't getting any better, either.
He walked around the tavern once, looking through all of the windows as he went, looking for anybody who seemed vaguely knightly in their beds. He wanted to make certain that it was the right place - and he wanted to make certain that they were competent. The poster he had read hadn't made any mention of the tavern looking like it'd been hit by a bomb, but for all he knew, that could have happened after the posting was made.
He found his mark at 4:40 AM - too late to bother renting a room. He waited outside the tavern on the Undead side - out of the jurisdiction of Ruritanian authorities - and stripped himself of his robe, which didn't even belong to him in the first place. The lantern light mixed with the moonlight and starlight, and eventually the dawn, illuminating his painted face in a most ghostly fashion and highlighting the card suits that adorned it.
John nodded and walked toward Drago to offer a handshake. "I'm John. John MacLeod. We're doing combat training, right?"
He wasn't looking forward to it. Fighting was not his favorite thing to do, to say the least. Aggression felt like a total waste to him, even if it was for a good, educational purpose. Still, the class schedule was pretty much set in stone, and he'd need to get used to fighting to protect his dragon after it hatched. Or, at least, he felt that he should know how to fight in case it came up - he wasn't really sure how violent the world of dragon riders even was.
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