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3 yrs ago
Current Auld Lang Syne, everybody. roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
4 yrs ago
Vote in my new quest, Mirage, a RP quest set in the far, far future roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
5 yrs ago
Kink-Shaming. Kink-Shaming Never Changes.
3 likes
5 yrs ago
roleplayerguild.com/posts/5… Vote for Dead in Depression. The mechanics of the quest have now been posted!
5 yrs ago
Voting is open until the end of the week! Please come and vote! - roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
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The Last Aritistonancer





Moses missed the sensation of parkour. It was an exhilarating way to travel the concrete jungle of Satan Celia, the most preferred way of navigation for a street artist such as him. Hours of conditioning and practise came back to him as his thighs ached more with every leap and landing that he did. He tucked into a precision landing, skipping along the rooftop railings like a monkey. His breath quickened as he made for a somersaulting leap off a roof-top, umbrella hoisting him back up to the sky and preserving his momentum as his toes touched upon another apartment block.

As Moses continued to maneuver and sail through the apartments of Downtown Santa Celia, the anomalous nature of the rain only became more apparent as he neared it. The red began to pool onto the tarmac and the concrete, soaking it with rustic, coppery hues. Moses slid downwards on a set of cheap corrugated railing, halting himself by the heels of his shoes as he eyed the hellish weather on the horizon.

“ Well, I’m lucky that I packed an umbrella for today” Moses murmured, tightening his scarf which had become loose throughout his running, “ Looks like you shouldn’t always trust the weather forecast.”

This is no mere rain, Muller. A localised weather event this isolated and anomalous? It could be magic at work here.

Radio report said that it was a chemical spill. Man-made.

Have you ever seen anything man-made like this? It would be foolish of you to dismiss the possibility of supernatural phenomena.

I’ll keep that in mind.

Moses slowly floated down into the comfort of a nearby alleyway, a few blocks away from the radius of the rain, feet lightly touching the damp, fetid floor. The wailing dirge of the sirens were pounding his head. That stupid sound was going to be stuck in his mind for days, maybe even weeks. He took a moment to take a breather, muscles burning with fading fatigue as he leaned against the mossy brick wall. He peeked left to right out of the alley-way, making sure the coast was clear before he was brushed in the shoulder by a frightened woman.

Then, came the stampede. His senses struggled to keep up with the chaos around him as it was a simple panorama of distress and discord. Ambulances and police cars were piling and bordering up around the rain cloud. Moses kept walking towards the edge of the rain-fall, avoiding the bulk of the trampling crowd. He was close now. He could just barely see the smoking fumes, though, the fires of Le Chateau Rouge were not noticable. He’d never been to the City Hall this close before. Most of his jobs took place near Uptown of Santa Celia. The alabaster pillars looked almost bone white with the red rain coursing down in rivulets.

I am recommending you to avoid as much physical contact with the rain, until we know of its true effects. Use that umbrella.

Right. Moses unfurled the umbrella , leaning the shaft over his right shoulder. He was just a few more seconds from entering the storm before someone caught him by the shoulder. He turned around, only to swear internally, as a police officer looked at him suspiciously.

Crap.

“Hey,” The officer spoke towards him “ This area is bordered off. What do you think you’re doing?”

Moses was rapidly trying to think of an excuse if it wasn’t the fact that his dress-up would run counter to every one of those possible excuses. Scarf wrapped around the mouth? A spray-painted hoodie? Umbrella? He looked like an juvenile delinquent rather than a street artist making his way through the city. After a moment of indecision, Moses then pointed over the officer’s shoulder.

“ Hey, um, I think I see someone beating someone else over there!”

“ Wh-” The officer looked around before realising that he’d been played. “ Hey! Get back here! This is Officer Brian. We have a civilian entering the - “

Moses began running into the storm, the drizzling quickly transforming into a deluge of red once more. The red water ran off the umbrella canopy in a spider web of rivers, protecting him from the onslaught of rain. He briefly reached his hand out to touch the rain for a moment’s curiosity before deciding against it. He continued to walk in silence, the odd stranger there and here.

He was nearing the ruins of the La Cheteau de Rouge. Or, at least, signs of nearing it. Moses gulped as he took in the devastation. The entire street that he was on was a veritable blast zone, bits of metal, wood and glass strewn about in varying chunks and sizes. He could see the still burning restaurant in the distance, red smoke boiling upon contact with the dying flames. If Moses ever had to describe his vision of hell, what he was seeing right now in front of him could have been a rendition of it.

You think that this could be the work of a magician?

Yes and no. It is possible but impossible today. Magic within the 21st Century has become nearly endangered. The amount of training and spell-work it would require to create this….grotesque weather would be incalculable. Certainly beyond your strength.In the meantime, we should focus on finding the source of this rain.

A scream rang out in the torrential wind. Them, several more. Moses looked towards a nearby coffee shop where he noticed a man taking refuge inside, leaning against the walls. He ran inside, noticing the large trail of human blood that had been largely washed away by the flow of the rain.

Or saving what’s in front of us first.

A base-ball capped man, black-haired, wearing a bomber jacket, was lying on the ground, white-faced and croaking out in pain.

“...Help me…”

The man’s entire left arm was badly perforated, shards of glass embedded in wounds that oozed out blood. Whatever caused the Rouge to go up in smoke, the poor guy must have been near it when whatever happened happen. As the man continued to nurse his limp arm, Moses unzipped his duffle bag and pulled out one of his many pre-drawn sketches. He plunged his hand once again into one of his many sketches, stomach lurching with butterflies, rush of energy coursing into his hand like a waterfall as he pulled out a roll of thin gauze that was strewn with iconography from a bygone era. He unrolled the gauze and began to wrap it around the man’s arm,

“ What’re you doing? You’re - you’re - Wait.. The pain - it’s going away…...”

The colour in the man’s face began to return as Moses finished his hasty first aid, using up the entire roll in the process. The bandages began to part and fall off like shed snake skin, turning into motes of dust in the stormy wind. In its place, the man’s arm was returned back to normal, albeit with an series of markings labelled on his inner arm. The man stared at his arm, closing and opening his eyes to see if he was still in a dream, before whispering towards Moses.

“ Than-Thank you!”

“ You’re welcome. Now, get out of here! Police car’s just a minute from down here. Stay here and you’ll-uh-” Moses swayed in his spot for a little bit of it, unsure of how to respond “ - get pneumonia.”

The stranger stood still for a moment, perhaps thinking about rewarding him or giving him something back in return, or so Moses tried to amuse himself. He then nodded in assent, before running out of the empty coffee shop, holding his bomber jacket over himself to shield him from the rain. Moses stood still in the same position, his hands still red with blood. He then went to the open sink to wash his hands.

You know I specifically advised you on drawing those bandages for your own personal use?

Well, I can always draw another one.

Hands clean, Moses stared over the burning conflagration of Le Chateau Rogue, obscured by red rain that was hissing off the licks of orange flames emanating off the burnt ruins. No time to waste, Moses unfurled his umbrella once more and entered into the bloody downpour with nary a scared step behind him.
oh...

Do you know what time the sheets are due by?


No clue. Opp needs to confirm that for you.
I am interested in making a prominent war reporter that decides to lay low after an assassination attempt on his life by joining Campbell's campaign as their reporter.


Uh, my man, CS’s are due this Friday. Just letting ya know.
So, Campbell's campaign team currently consists of

- A former adrenaline junkie street racer
- An alcoholic monk bodyguard
- A journalist
- A aloof fixer.

What a great cast of characters/






DEATH IN DEPRESSION

A Tale of Taxes, Undeath and Anomalies

Genre: Post-Apocalyptic Science Fiction

Source Material: Red Markets, Stand Still Stay Silent, S.T.A.L.K.E.R, METRO







DEBT RISING//CASUALTIES MOUNTING//PROFITS SINKING//MARKETS CRASHING//DEPRESSION SINKING


Depression

1 : an act of depressing or a state of being depressed: such as
a)(i) : a state of feeling sad :
DEJECTION
anger, anxiety, and depression
a)(ii) : a mood disorder marked especially by sadness, inactivity, difficulty in thinking and concentration , a significant increase or decrease in appetite and time spent sleeping, feelings of dejection and hopelessness , and sometimes suicidal tendencies
bouts of depression
suffering from clinical depression

(2) biology : a lowering of physical or mental vitality or of functional activity

(3) economics : a period of low general economic activity marked especially by rising levels of unemployment
heading towards a depression


ASSETS RISING//CASUALTIES DYING//PROFITS RISING//MARKETS GROWING//DEPRESSION RECEDING





Prowling Through The Lifelines....


“Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away.”
Phillip K. Dick, I Hope I Shall Arrive Soon




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♦Topic: [AMA] Half-Life here. Veteran Taker. Co-Founder of the Hatchlings.
In: Boards ► Boards ► The Birdhouse ► QnAs

Half-Life239 (Original Poster) (Veteran Taker) (Member of the Hatchling Nest)
Posted on January 1, 2035:

Morning, Lifelines. Name's Half-Life. Leader of the Hatchlings. One of the Hatchling's bet me to do an AMA on Lifelines during a poker game if I lost. Guess what happened.

Never done this before, so, don't know what to expect. I doubt that this will get more than one page, though.

EDIT: Guess I'll have to eat my words again.

(Showing Page 40 of 47)
► Over_Driver110 (Veteran Taker)(High-Rollers)
Replied on January 1, 2035:
So, Half-Life, I'm driving down to Realm in FL for a job. Got any tips for me regarding any dangers or VPs that I might encounter?

► Half_Life239 (Veteran Taker)(Hatchling's Nest)
Replied on January 1, 2035:
Don't let your guard down. No matter how goofy you think they may look, it's all old school there. You'll be laughing your ass off at the guy wearing the Mickey Mouse hat while they monitor your ass through the security camera system and have a dozen snipers trained on your ass from Space Mountain.

► Matri-Scythe (Verified Taker)
Replied on January 1, 2035:
Hey Half-Life! Taker parent here!

I've got a 10 year old son who is dead-set on emulating me and becoming a Taker when he grows up. Last week, the teacher complained about a drawing he drew of me decapitating a Casualty! Do you have any advice to offer from your experience as a Eagle in the Hatchlings?

► Half_Life239 (Veteran Taker)(Hatchling's Nest)
Replied on January 1, 2035:
Firstly, my respects out to you for being both a mother and a Taker. Trust me. It's no easy feat and most would sooner give up and try like you. Secondly. It's a phase. However, it's your duty to provide the right information and educate him on what being a Taker means. You have the experience. You know what it's like. Hell, I just had a quick skim through your resume and you're an accomplished woman.

Trust me when I say it's a phase. And when if he does go that route, then, it's your duty to make sure that he doesn't make the same mistakes as you do.

► Bingo_Bongo (Loss Inhabitant)
Replied on January 2, 2035:
Given that you raise kids in your Taker crew, what's your favourite pre-crash cartoon?

► Half_Life239 (Veteran Taker) (Hatchling's Nest)
Replied on January 2, 2035:
Yo Gabba Gabba, ironically. Only because it shuts up the young ones for long enough to get me a decent nap.

► Allonsy (Newbie)
Replied on January 2, 2035:
Hey, Half-Life, Greenhorn here. Just managed to see your AMA thread and I think I can say for all on the Lifelines that we're glad for the wealth of experience and insights you've offered, especially during your contracts in Phoenix-Ashes. Need to remember to buy chalk next time I accept a contract! ^-^

As an experienced Taker, I just wanna ask. What's your secret to persevering this long in the Loss?

► Half_Life239 (Veteran Taker)(Hatchling's Nest)
Replied on January 2, 2035:
Routine. More than one to keep yourself busy. Whether it’s checking your books, taking a Triple CCC contract everyday online, splurging on your freshly earned Bounty by buying ice-cream for your Hatchlings, running a DnD game for the kids or spending time with family, that routine saves your ass. Trust me. Having a hobby or eating a freshly-made burger does more for your mind than the typical pre-Crash portrayal of huddling in a shack with a bolt-action rifle and enough cans of baked beans to last you through winter. I know that I sound like one of those Recession armchair psycho-analysts right now but it’s a condition of everyone in the Loss. Taker or not.

Keeping a routine is the best way to stave off those thoughts we’ve all faced, Allonsy. Thoughts of managing to fufill our monthly debts everyday. Thoughts of hoping to cash in on retirement early. Thoughts of an oncoming war between the Recession and the Loss. Thoughts of finding a universal cure for the Scourge. Thoughts of trying to rationalize exactly what the Depression is. Thoughts of reclaiming our citizenship once more. Those thoughts, those inner desires of ours can either lead us to completion or ruination, the latter being more often than not the case.

The routine is the most scariest and beautiful thing that I’ve found out about the human condition. Here’s the thing about us homo sapiens, Allonsy. We’re able to adapt to the most strangest or extradonairy of conditions in a seemingly short span of time, whilst slowly moulding it into our vision of normality through simple routine. We compartmentalize, consolidate and console ourselves in an attempt to mould reality to our own perceptions through pure repetition and discipline. How? How can we keeping forging ahead, to forget and let live and move on as if the past was nothing more than an illusion?

Because we can’t afford to break our routine. God forbid that we even try to question how life goes on when we've got bills to be paying, debts to be own, meals to be cooked, campaigns to run, trinkets to sell, business deals to be made and gardens to water. Even in the broken wasteland of sunny post-apocalyptia, the concept of routines still persist within our minds as we try to hold onto our semblance of normality everyday. Everyone’s still stuck within this mire of depression, a swamp of perpetual entente that we desperately try to forge a meagre existence out of.

So, yeah, all in all, a usual day in the Loss. Try not let the true nature of it distract you too much that you get gnawed on by a Casualty from behind, wander into an active Fracture or get into the freaky claws of a symptom.


End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 38, 39, 40, 41, 42 ... 45 , 46, 47




The Life of a Taker


To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.
Fredreich Nietzche




Taker Essentials

Forgery

Blackhawk. Footloose. Gumdrop. These are some of the various pseudonyms or 'forgeries' that Takers have either created themselves or have bequeathed on by others. Out there in the Loss, you rarely go by your real name anymore. Heck, most Takers have forgotten their real names and use their manufactured handles as a form of identity. In truth, a false name has practicality to it in the post-Crash paradigm. A second identity allows a Taker to use their old identity as a tool within the Bounty system to cash in on retirement and procure enough forged documents to traffic themselves into the Depression. Coupled with the fact that H.E.R.C can't legally declare a false identity as homo sacer, a false name is both a shield of mystique and a wrench in the bureacratic dictatorship of the Recession.

However, the true purpose of a Forgery is to allow a Taker to psychologically dissociate themselves.


The Life-Lines






The Depression















The Scourge














History




The American Nightmare

The Cataclyst

The Crash

Staving Off Doomsday




THE WORLD











THE CARRION ECONOMY











INVESTORS















TECHNOLOGY



















Rules and Regulations








Ooh looks rather interesting. I'll see if I can think up a character if you're still taking.


Well, due date's this Friday, so, don't take too long.
To prevent the RP from dragging on any further, I'm going to say that applications will be closing off on Friday. For those of you still getting a sheet together, you have a handful of days. From there, I'll begin to discuss where we will be starting off in the grand scheme of things.




I'll try to get a CS in before closure on Friday!

Just a question though, which one would be more welcomed; the earlier mentioned hitman, or a hacker contracted to wreck all sorts of havoc on opposition campaigns and such? We already have a bodyguard and a middle-aged man with criminal connections (which would have been my angle with the hitman) so I'm learning towards the hacker to keep the cast more varied. He would be a younger man in his twenties. Would a character like that work, or should I try to find a third option?


That would work in my opinion. Hackers are like, one of the core aspects of cyberpunk and it would be good to explore the version of the Net that Opp laid out in their lore.
Amazing, awesome, spectacular
We need someone to be a cyber-doge or cyber-cat, stat. It'll be the mascot of Campbell's campaign. (Or maybe, it'll be some sort of free promotion for Hyperhuman propaganda but who gives a shit, I wanna scratch the belly of ma cyber-doggy.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kHBcVlqpvZ8



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