Bork

The Wal Chronicles (Post Apocalyptic Supermarket Simulator)

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$$$

---

> PLEASE ENTER CUSTOMER RFID SEQUENCE
> *********
> ERROR. 2 ATTEMPTS LEFT.
> *********
> ERROR. WARNING. 1 ATTEMPT LEFT UNTIL CUSTOMER MALFEASANCE PROTOCOL ACTIVATION.
> *********
> SUCCESS.
> WELCOME, TED WILLIAMS. HOW MAY WE HELP YOU TODAY?
> ACCESS AUDIO JOURNAL
> PROCESSING........

_{WAL-INCORPORATED CO PTY LTD}

Always Low Prices

Date: May 25th, 2085
From: Samuel Walton Junior, Supreme Executive President of Wal-International
To: All Registered Empl0yee Citizens
Subject: Our New Expansion Initiative And Other Matters Of Importance

[ERROR]-proud to announce the creation of over 45 new branches including Wal-Power, Wal-Education, Wal-Agriculture and Wal-Fashion along with the acquisition of over 400 new businesses in the last year. We are confident that these mergers will irove - [ERROR]

[ERROR]- better or worse, our model for success has been an inspiration for our competitors worldwide. All registered employee citizens who are found to the IKEA Mega-Centre Zone or Alibaba will be rendered non persona gratas and executed immediately upon sight by Security - [ERROR][ERROR]

- ember to review our su̶̱̻̺͐̐͒͗̇͋́͊̕m̴̫̥̙̹̖͖̠̏͑͆͝ṁ̵͚͎͚̼̰̳̝̯̲̎̌̾͘̕̚͠é̶̟̹͇̯̿̽̔͝ř̶̤̫͑̓̈́͂̓̕̚͝ ̷̢͈̺̜̉̓̀̈c̵̜̔̒͑a̴̢͇̣̝͝ţ̵̦̼̻̺̻͋̈́ḁ̷̠̄̌͐͌ļ̶͔̠͙̜̮̣͕̹̽̀̾̐̈́̂̑͠ó̷̢̻̓̇̑͐͆̄͠g̴̯̝͎̖̘̪̥̿͝ ̴̡̛͈̺̞̭̰͎͙̎̈́̄̀̕f̵̰͕͓̩̀̇͊ͅo̵̧̩̱͇̘͗́̎̾̄̀̔͑ṙ̴̬̝̱̭͓̖̐́́͗̿̚ ̷̡̘͋̈ṱ̸̦̩͊͑͋͊́̌̑̃h̶̨̜͚̭͉̀͛̆ͅe̷̛̠̩̎̃̇͑̓̈́́͠ ̶̠̦͇̪̎͛́b̵̙̐͝e̵̟̲̎͋̎͠s̵̤̦͉̹̳̼͒̓̀̍̄̓̒͠t̸̥̩̋͋̀͌̉ ̵̧̢̨̝̖̬̯̱̩̓̃̽͆̂̕͝͝p̸̙̲͇͋̊̔̈́̿r̴̨̠͓͚̻̩̾̀͋̑̐į̴̫͔̞̯̰̗̗̭̓̒́̋͑́ĉ̶̯̩̟̹̫͛̈́̊̌͗e̴͉̥̗̺͑̆̇́̑͜ͅś̷̹̥͈̳͈̗̮̍̍̈́̕ ̵̺̦̦͇͉̍̕̕ȧ̶͉̖̣̝̦̗͍̀̽̚n̴̼̭̙̖͙̂̒͊͑͐͝d̴͕̟͇̂͝ ̷͉̠̦͕̞͚̹̤̅e̶̡̛̝̭̎̐̆͊́̾̅̚n̵̡̧̞̟̹̤͓̯̎̇̎͠ͅt̸̳̋̓͐͝ě̶̱͖̃̚r̷̬̦̱͙͚̒͗̋́̊́̒͂͠ ̴̬̪̘͈̭͎̮̂̑̈́̍͛̋͝ŏ̷̤̲̺̺͔̠̽̿́͆͑u̷͔͎̯̔͆̀̕ŗ̵̹̜̦̦̯̱̄͐̃̈͒ ̷̝̓e̴̢̟͎̘̼̺̮̼̘͛̄͆͑̐̕͘͠x̴̢̰͍̣͔̮̩̲͈̑́͐̈́͑̄͘͝͝c̷̟͎̱͇̋͌̐͜ͅl̴̛̮͙̻͑͒͋͠ú̴̧̡̜̗͖̙͖̰͓̓̐̎̎͗̀s̴͇̥͆̉͋͊̂̈́̇̒̍i̵̡͍̩̼̺̥̗̥͋̉͗ͅv̵̢̻̮̰͓̗̯̋̊̉͆͘̕ė̶͕͈͉͕̙̣̽̀̆͐̔̾ ̸̪̪̮̲͈͂̊W̶̛̩̩͕͗͑̊̈́̋̚͝͠a̵̛͈͙̣͇̝̪̱̾͌̓̂̄̚ͅl̵̼̗͗̇̌̌̃̊̑̅̉-̸̲͔̱̂̄̊̒̈́P̶͎͎̥̦̘̘̮͍̝̊͑̄͗͋͌͠ȁ̷͎̼͛̌̓͑̇̅̒c̶̢̥̞͎̤̓̒̏̔̉̂͜ĥ̴̬͉͖͆̈́į̴͔̻̟̲̇̎̋̍̚̚n̸̡̩̘͎̩͔͠ķ̸͙̘͔̜̟̜̻͐͂͊̐͊̚ȏ̸̡̨͚̖̽̀̉̕ ̷̻͉̣͇͊̉͂̌͜L̴̦̠̖̜͈̭̞̰͋̏o̴͉͓̞͑̀͆͗͂̈́̕͘͝t̴̨̲̭̰͖̣̔͐̇̑̋̂ͅt̸̡̳̱͎̦̠̭͐̌͋͊͑͊͒̕͝e̷̮͚͑͌͜r̶̼͍̹̦̊̽̂̋̒͛̃̇ÿ̸̯͉́̃͒̃͐ ̶̣͚̙̼͇̥̇̒̆̐̾̾̆̾͝ṭ̷̞̼̗̦͐o̵̼̘͖̰̩̊̌͐͊͌̍ ̷̜̺͇̞̃̏͂̈́̾-̵̡̥̤̣͈̫̤̃
̶̢̤͈͉̘̝͍͋́͒̌̌̊

> DAILY SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT PLUG IN FAILED. REBOOTING......

> ACCESSING JOURNAL

Day 4812. Location. South of Fort Monopoly. Condition. Tired.

Eternity have passed since I walked through these endless aisles, yet, I have not expired. Time has lost its meaning. Truths have become inseparable from lies, as the PA system wails above me in saccharine chants. In my walleted heart, the Great Sam knows only these four words to be true.

The Wal is All.

I’ve seen sights you wouldn’t believe. A sky of fluorescent lights. Valleys of discarded shelves. Hills of refuse. Glaciers of refrigeration units. Conga lines of shopping carts stretching for miles. I’ve known plenty who claimed to have escaped through the Gates of Sliding and into the promised lands of the Parking Lots.

Lies.

There is no exit. There is no entrance. There is no end or beginning.

The Wal is All.

It is now a time of tense stability. I thank the Great Sam that the Smilers are still feuding among another like the barbaric Grocery tribes. Years have passed since the last major Sport, departments such as the Stationary Shogunate and the Clothing Kingdoms licking their wounds. Brand gangs patrol and exercise control over their insignificant turfs whilst aislers such as the Dorfs and Cereai take up the mantle of heroism.

To be mad is to be sane.

The Wal is All.

More and more rogue Wal-Tech stalk the shelves with Management constantly releasing new and horrible products. There have been rumors of Nevergrow and Amblouceti encroaching on nearby settlements in the Eastern Wal. Just this week, I saw a Security Bot carrying away a poor soul for shoplifting in the Alcohol section. He's probably a Greeter by now. The Fall Seasonal comes closer and the Stockers will soon approach in full force.

Despite our progress, we are still ants walking in the footsteps of monsters.

We are the Wal. We live in the Wal. We die in the Wal.

---

$$$

---

//PREMISE

The Wal is All.

Long after a world-shattering nuclear cataclysm known as the Fall, the last remaining survivors have taken refuge inside residential mega-marts owned by the now defunct global conglomerate corporate nation, Wal-Incorporated. Trapped within these colossal superstructures from the horrors of the outside world, these survivors fought amongst one another for control of the resources of the mega-marts and against the malfunctioning robotic Associates that once served mankind, now targeting all of humanity as ‘shoplifters’.

Centuries later, humanity has splintered into bands of settlements, the largest and most organised of these settlements being known as ‘Departments’. War and conflict between neighbouring departments wreak the Wal. Religious cults and lunatic gangs prey upon poor aislers, desperate to make a living. Mutants such as giant pigeons, rat-people and giga-roaches now roam the hallways. All the while, the malevolent Management observes from above, plotting and controlling the endless hordes of bots that patrol the mart.

Players will take the role of Lifters. Lifters are mercenaries, saleswords, bounty hunters, treasure hunters, an aisler willing to do any job for the right price or coupon. You’re no veteran Bargain Binner but you’re sure as hell no dollar store Cheapskate. You also may be slightly mad, or not. Surviving this long in the Wal usually comes with the cost of your sanity.

So, where does your story begin?

It has been a month after the last Black Friday and merely a week after the signing of a landmark treaty between the Stationary Shogunate and the Clothing Dynasties. You could care less about the political ramifications this poses to the other departments and more about the job you've been recently hired for. The Library of the Bookshelves have hired you as an escort for a treasure hunting expedition. The pay is good but your contractor almost maddeningly discloses little information about the treasure you are trying to find.

Is it the fabled 32nd flavor of Baskin Robbins Ice Cream? The legendary 100% off coupon? A Pre-Fall Wal-Tech manuscript?

No one on the expedition knows except for the leader himself, Field Archivist Ken-Dal.

It's night. You and the rest of the expedition are camping out in the middle of abandoned Dorf territory, ruined Forts that have been uninhabited for several decades after the Nevergrow invasion. You take this as an opportunity to rest, the fluorescent lights dimming above you and your feet aching after days of non-stop walking.

Little did you know that your expedition would take the turn for the worse.

---

Oh boy, here I go GMing again!

So, to put this in as few details as possible, I'm looking for a batch of 4-5 players who are willing to join a narrative based RP primarily focused on player interactivity and heavy amounts of action. Keep in mind first and foremost that this is a satirical RP that is a pastiche of modern consumer capitalism.

Please ask any questions if you do. This is merely a thread to gauge interest. I will make the OOC thread after one week if there is enough interest. If there is significant interest, I will strike while the iron is hot.

The Consortium

Barnabum Yerickford

“ One screw. Two screws. And that’s it!”

Barnabum wiggled the spanner out from the bolt, wiping a river of sweat off his brow. The room they’d housed the rune engine in was cramped with mold festering cracks and cobwebs in the rafters. The lack of ventilation had turned the interior of the room into a soupy mist, as hisses of coolant and coughs of smoke punctuated the silence of his work.

Overall, it was tiring, unpleasant and horrible work.

But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tightening the last of the screws and checking the pressure gauge one last time, Barnabum began to walk out of the boiling engine room, carrying his toolbox with his gloved hand. Closing the door behind him, Barnabum climbed up onto the deck of the Sky Maiden, brushing the dust off his pants. The last batches of cargo were still being loaded onto the ship by the band of fae they’d hired.

As he strode through the deck, he gave small faint nods to each crew member that was situated there. He made a mental note to converse with the master gunner later about his ideas for augmenting the large-bore cannons with gravity accelerators.Overall, it was an odd bunch that he’d decided to join up with but you couldn’t count on a rigorous application process when you took up piracy as a career. The funds would be worth it, though. It had to be.

Eventually, Barnabum leaned against the solar-sail mast and took out a small moth-eaten handbook, flipping open to a brand new page. “ Now, that sure as heck won’t work.” Barnabum playfully mused to himself, crossing out the figure and writing a new sketch of his proposed engine, “ Or will it?” . His eyes flickered across each and every hypothetical measurement, equations dancing in his mind to ensure his prototype would tread the line between failure and success. He continued on this tangent for a little while before noticing the captain in the corner of his eye. He snapped his book shut and stumbled over towards her hurriedly. A maniac crescent grin split his face in half as he took out a sheet of parchment with scrawlings on it, presenting it to Dihala as if it was show and tell.

“ Ah, Captain! I’va made some absolutely scienterrific modifications to the ship’s engine. I calculate….hm….let’s see here...lots of ones. Lots of twos…..Lots of zeroes...That’s good. I’ve managed to darn near increase forward thrust in her by a factor of 1.32 and reduce vacuum drag by a good ol’ 1.65 peeerrrcent!” The gnome giggled excitedly, taking a moment to wipe a smear of grease off his beard before trailing off again. “ I do have some ideas about bolstering our forward propulsion engines, though, this require a significant quantity of unstable isotope of mithril for - “

Barnabum paused for a moment, realizing at how cruddy he was at delivering pitches, before rewording his suggestions to convert their sky-ship into a hyper light cruiser instead of a nuclear meltdown.

“Well, shoot, I can see the problem wit’ tha last idea. That’s just fer your consideration.” Barnabum once more began to return to his rant before he frowned, his face curdling like sour milk. He looked over Dihala’s shoulder and shouted “ Oi, gerroff mah shrooms! You’re supposed to be loading the cargo, not sampling the cargo!”

He jabbed his finger towards a pixie of the Joy Division who looked like a murderer caught in the middle of a crime scene, cigar dangling out of his mouth.

“ You damnable flower spawn” Barnabum snarled out loud as he ripped the cigar out from the . Instead of reprimanding the pixie further, he took out a fresh cigar out from the box and shoved it roughly into the pixie’s hands.

“ You’re smoking it the wrong way! Here, let me show you how to properly enjoy one of these cigars.”

Barnabum took out a small pocket knife and cut off the end of the cigar, showing the pixie how to grip it properly and how not to stick it in his mouth. After the short demonstration, Barnabum lighted his and the pixie’s carefully, the ends of their cigars glowing orange bright. The pixie sucked in the fumes and blinked several times, eyes dilating and staring upwards at the sky. Judging by the dazed bloodshot gazes they were both giving Dihala, it was evident that they were high as a kite.

Bork Lazer's Storage Bunker

---

$$$

---

> PLEASE ENTER CUSTOMER RFID SEQUENCE
> *********
> ERROR. 2 ATTEMPTS LEFT.
> *********
> ERROR. WARNING. 1 ATTEMPT LEFT UNTIL CUSTOMER MALFEASANCE PROTOCOL ACTIVATION.
> *********
> SUCCESS.
> WELCOME, TED WILLIAMS. HOW MAY WE HELP YOU TODAY?
> ACCESS AUDIO JOURNAL
> PROCESSING........

_{WAL-INCORPORATED CO PTY LTD}

Always Low Prices

Date: May 25th, 2085
From: Samuel Walton Junior, Supreme Executive President of Wal-International
To: All Registered Empl0yee Citizens
Subject: Our New Expansion Initiative And Other Matters Of Importance

[ERROR]-proud to announce the creation of over 45 new branches including Wal-Power, Wal-Education, Wal-Agriculture and Wal-Fashion along with the acquisition of over 400 new businesses in the last year. We are confident that these mergers will irove - [ERROR]

[ERROR]- better or worse, our model for success has been an inspiration for our competitors worldwide. All registered employee citizens who are found to the IKEA Mega-Centre Zone or Alibaba will be rendered non persona gratas and executed immediately upon sight by Security - [ERROR][ERROR]

- ember to review our su̶̱̻̺͐̐͒͗̇͋́͊̕m̴̫̥̙̹̖͖̠̏͑͆͝ṁ̵͚͎͚̼̰̳̝̯̲̎̌̾͘̕̚͠é̶̟̹͇̯̿̽̔͝ř̶̤̫͑̓̈́͂̓̕̚͝ ̷̢͈̺̜̉̓̀̈c̵̜̔̒͑a̴̢͇̣̝͝ţ̵̦̼̻̺̻͋̈́ḁ̷̠̄̌͐͌ļ̶͔̠͙̜̮̣͕̹̽̀̾̐̈́̂̑͠ó̷̢̻̓̇̑͐͆̄͠g̴̯̝͎̖̘̪̥̿͝ ̴̡̛͈̺̞̭̰͎͙̎̈́̄̀̕f̵̰͕͓̩̀̇͊ͅo̵̧̩̱͇̘͗́̎̾̄̀̔͑ṙ̴̬̝̱̭͓̖̐́́͗̿̚ ̷̡̘͋̈ṱ̸̦̩͊͑͋͊́̌̑̃h̶̨̜͚̭͉̀͛̆ͅe̷̛̠̩̎̃̇͑̓̈́́͠ ̶̠̦͇̪̎͛́b̵̙̐͝e̵̟̲̎͋̎͠s̵̤̦͉̹̳̼͒̓̀̍̄̓̒͠t̸̥̩̋͋̀͌̉ ̵̧̢̨̝̖̬̯̱̩̓̃̽͆̂̕͝͝p̸̙̲͇͋̊̔̈́̿r̴̨̠͓͚̻̩̾̀͋̑̐į̴̫͔̞̯̰̗̗̭̓̒́̋͑́ĉ̶̯̩̟̹̫͛̈́̊̌͗e̴͉̥̗̺͑̆̇́̑͜ͅś̷̹̥͈̳͈̗̮̍̍̈́̕ ̵̺̦̦͇͉̍̕̕ȧ̶͉̖̣̝̦̗͍̀̽̚n̴̼̭̙̖͙̂̒͊͑͐͝d̴͕̟͇̂͝ ̷͉̠̦͕̞͚̹̤̅e̶̡̛̝̭̎̐̆͊́̾̅̚n̵̡̧̞̟̹̤͓̯̎̇̎͠ͅt̸̳̋̓͐͝ě̶̱͖̃̚r̷̬̦̱͙͚̒͗̋́̊́̒͂͠ ̴̬̪̘͈̭͎̮̂̑̈́̍͛̋͝ŏ̷̤̲̺̺͔̠̽̿́͆͑u̷͔͎̯̔͆̀̕ŗ̵̹̜̦̦̯̱̄͐̃̈͒ ̷̝̓e̴̢̟͎̘̼̺̮̼̘͛̄͆͑̐̕͘͠x̴̢̰͍̣͔̮̩̲͈̑́͐̈́͑̄͘͝͝c̷̟͎̱͇̋͌̐͜ͅl̴̛̮͙̻͑͒͋͠ú̴̧̡̜̗͖̙͖̰͓̓̐̎̎͗̀s̴͇̥͆̉͋͊̂̈́̇̒̍i̵̡͍̩̼̺̥̗̥͋̉͗ͅv̵̢̻̮̰͓̗̯̋̊̉͆͘̕ė̶͕͈͉͕̙̣̽̀̆͐̔̾ ̸̪̪̮̲͈͂̊W̶̛̩̩͕͗͑̊̈́̋̚͝͠a̵̛͈͙̣͇̝̪̱̾͌̓̂̄̚ͅl̵̼̗͗̇̌̌̃̊̑̅̉-̸̲͔̱̂̄̊̒̈́P̶͎͎̥̦̘̘̮͍̝̊͑̄͗͋͌͠ȁ̷͎̼͛̌̓͑̇̅̒c̶̢̥̞͎̤̓̒̏̔̉̂͜ĥ̴̬͉͖͆̈́į̴͔̻̟̲̇̎̋̍̚̚n̸̡̩̘͎̩͔͠ķ̸͙̘͔̜̟̜̻͐͂͊̐͊̚ȏ̸̡̨͚̖̽̀̉̕ ̷̻͉̣͇͊̉͂̌͜L̴̦̠̖̜͈̭̞̰͋̏o̴͉͓̞͑̀͆͗͂̈́̕͘͝t̴̨̲̭̰͖̣̔͐̇̑̋̂ͅt̸̡̳̱͎̦̠̭͐̌͋͊͑͊͒̕͝e̷̮͚͑͌͜r̶̼͍̹̦̊̽̂̋̒͛̃̇ÿ̸̯͉́̃͒̃͐ ̶̣͚̙̼͇̥̇̒̆̐̾̾̆̾͝ṭ̷̞̼̗̦͐o̵̼̘͖̰̩̊̌͐͊͌̍ ̷̜̺͇̞̃̏͂̈́̾-̵̡̥̤̣͈̫̤̃
̶̢̤͈͉̘̝͍͋́͒̌̌̊

> DAILY SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT PLUG IN FAILED. REBOOTING......

> ACCESSING JOURNAL

Day 4812. Location. South of Fort Monopoly. Condition. Tired.

Eternity have passed since I walked through these endless aisles, yet, I have not expired. Time has lost its meaning. Truths have become inseparable from lies, as the PA system wails above me in saccharine chants. In my walleted heart, the Great Sam knows only these four words to be true.

The Wal is All.

I’ve seen sights you wouldn’t believe. A sky of fluorescent lights. Valleys of discarded shelves. Hills of refuse. Glaciers of refrigeration units. Conga lines of shopping carts stretching for miles. I’ve known plenty who claimed to have escaped through the Gates of Sliding and into the promised lands of the Parking Lots.

Lies.

There is no exit. There is no entrance. There is no end or beginning.

The Wal is All.

It is now a time of tense stability. I thank the Great Sam that the Smilers are still feuding among another like the barbaric Grocery tribes. Years have passed since the last major Sport, departments such as the Stationary Shogunate and the Clothing Dynasties licking their wounds. Brand gangs patrol and exercise control over their insignificant turfs whilst aislers such as the Dorfs and Cereai take up the mantle of heroism.

To be mad is to be sane.

The Wal is All.

More and more rogue Wal-Tech stalk the shelves with Management constantly releasing new and horrible products. There have been rumors Nevergrow and Amblouceti encroaching on nearby settlements in the Eastern Wal. Just this week, I saw a Security Bot carrying away a poor soul for shoplifting in the Alcohol section. He's probably a Greeter by now. The Fall Seasonal comes closer and the Stockers will soon approach in full force.

Despite our progress, we are still ants walking in the footsteps of monsters.

We are the Wal. We live in the Wal. We die in the Wal.

---

$$$

---

//PREMISE

The Wal is All.

Long after a world-shattering nuclear cataclysm known as the Fall, the last remaining survivors have taken refuge inside residential mega-marts owned by the now defunct global conglomerate corporate nation, Wal-Incorporated. Trapped within these colossal superstructures from the horrors of the outside world, these survivors fought amongst one another for control of the resources of the mega-marts and against the malfunctioning robotic Wal-Automatons that once served mankind, now targeting all of humanity as ‘shoplifters’.

Centuries later, humanity has splintered into bands of settlements, the largest and most organised of these settlements being known as ‘Departments’. War and conflict between neighbouring departments wreak the Wal. Religious cults and lunatic gangs prey upon poor aislers, desperate to make a living. Mutants such as giant pigeons, rat-people and giga-roaches now roam the hallways. All the while, the malevolent Management observes from above, plotting and controlling the endless hordes of bots that patrol the mart.

Players take the role of Lifters. Lifters are mercenaries, saleswords, bounty hunters, treasure hunters, any aisler willing to do any job for the right price or coupon. You’re no Bargain Binner but you’re sure as hell no Cheapskate. You also may be slightly insane but in the Wal, madness is a necessity of life and being sane gets you killed.

It is now the end of the 65th Black Friday, with a landmark treaty having been signed between the Stationary Shogunate and the Clothing Dynasties. You, along with a handful of other Lifters, have been hired as ‘expendable’ assets for a cross-Wal expedition funded by the Curators of the Books section. Your responsibilities are simple: to protect the interests of the expedition, to ensure that no life is lost and to survive until the end so you can get paid.

//SETTING

Departments

The Tronic Temple

"ERROR 101"

Out of all Departments in the Wal, the Tronic Temple of Electronics are the most paranoid and illusive out of all of them. The Electronics Department hoards its knowledge and tech more greedily than the other Departments, only sharing piece-meals or scraps of it during negotiations or trade agreements. However, most Tronic Tech is completely useless in the hands of anyone else other than a trained Tech Wizard. Anyone who is caught with unsanctioned Tronic tech or dealing in Tronic Tech outside their borders will be hunted down by the most skilled of their Keyboard Warriors.

The Tronic Temple in of itself is a quasi-religious technocratic organisation with multiple guilds dedicated towards the worship of electronic brands and CEOs. The Guardians of Gates, the Tesla-Born and the Knights of Zuckerberg are a few of the famous guilds dedicated towards specific areas of technology. In comparison to Pre-Fall engineers and scientists, the Tronic’s Temple scientific method is focused on mostly impractical inventions that have a high chance of hurting the user the more advanced it is.

Study of Wal-Tech is only reserved for the most skilled and eldest Wizards. Due to the hidden workings of these mysterious technologies and the dangerous effects of tampering with their security mechanisms, they are kept under heavy guard. Open source Wal-Tech blueprints are considered to be the holy grail of technology and a dream for any Tech Wizard to discover. Only 3 blueprints have been discovered so far since the inception of the Tronic Temple: the designs for an experimental microwave, a prototypical hoverboard and a Wal-Incorporated interpretation of the shake weight.

The Nobles Houses of the Clothing Dynasties

"One Size Fits All"

One would be foolish and right to believe that Clothing is anything else other than a band of stuck-up nobles, their heads up in the rafters, concerned with otherworldly rights whilst the Wal around them is stuck in perpetual conflict. In truth, the Noble Clothing Brands have managed to maintain their power on an illusory facade of diplomatic ties with departments and domination of the most vital trade routes in the Wal, exerting soft power wherever they see fit. Diplomacy is their strength rather than military might. The lands of Clothing are indeed opulent and majestic compared to the more unsavory regions of the Wal. However, each day within Clothing is full of political conspiring and backstabbing by the nobles, with deals sewn in secret and plots weaved in the dark.

Operating on a caste-system, entire families are separated on the quality of material their clothing are designed from. Silk-born and velvet-born is used to designate the upper echelons of nobility, restricted to dynasties allied with the . Nylon and polyester-born are found within the bowels of the Sports Clothing Section, most commonly drafted into the ranks of soldiers. Cotton-borns are considered to be of lesser nobility due to the commonality of their material, most finding their path as merchants or journeymen.

The Stationary Shogunate

“ Steel bends, paper tears, our honour is forever eternal!”

To say that the Office Supply Department is steeped in tradition is a grave understatement. Considered to be one of the most ancient and powerful Departments in the Wal, every minor Department fears of being conquered by their paper and ink tide. Walled cities of folded paper and mache forts await those who travel within their territory.

The main coveted power that has kept the Stationary Shogunate and their territories strong is the art of Origami. These papersmiths and crafters are so valued that they are considered first class citizens in Stationary settlements. It is said that a true Origami paper blade can cut a Stocker in half. Numerous departments have attempted to replicate the power of Origami, only making inferior versions at best.

However, their refusal to export origami has led to a lack of goods to supply for economic trade within the Stationary Shogunate. Due to this, the Stationary Shogunate are heavily reliant on importation of vital supplies such as medicine, food and water from other Departments such as Gardening and Pets N Animals.

Their reckless overexpansion has led to decreased regulation of law in recently conquered territories and consequently given rise to criminal elements. Glue trafficking is currently the most profitable of these ventures. While the substance is commonly used for construction, it can act as a potent narcotic in small doses.

The Dorfen Kingdom of Toys

"For Da Fort!"

Unlike most other Departments, the Dorfen Kingdoms are not decentralized to one region but rather spread out around the Wal in roving settlements known as Forts. Dorfs are so named because of their dwarfism - a result of a mysterious age regression chemical known only as Age B Gone. No one knows the exact nature of its workings but its usage among the denizens of the Toys Department has slowed down the effects of time on their bodies - leaving them adults stuck in the bodies of children.

However, the same chemical responsible for birthing Dorfen society was responsible for its downfall. Centuries of overconsumption of expired and unclean Age B Gone resulted in widespread psychotic breakdowns and physical mutations among a large proportion of the Dorfen population. By the time they realised the repercussions of Age B Gone, most of the population became helplessly addicted towards consuming more of the cursed chemical. Eventually, this resulted in the rise of the Nevergrow, a teeming mass of mutated monstrous immortal children with no conception of morality. As the Nevergrow grew too powerful, the sane Dorfs were forced to abandon their homeland and scatter amongst the Wal, refusing to ever consume Age B Gone ever again.

Forts typically base their society around the veneration of old toys, boardgames and pen and paper roleplaying games, interpreting rulebooks as sacrosanct and figurines as religious idols. No two forts are the same. The Dorfs of Fort Catan are skilled in merchantry, the Dorfs of Fort Lego are the most skilled architects in all of the Wal - second only to the Origami Artists of Stationary - and the Dorfs of Fort Dungeons and Dragons are the best mercenaries and adventurers you can ask for.

The Grocery Tribes

“ Our Hunger will unstock the shelves!”

Out of all the Departments in the Wal, the Grocery Tribes are barbarians that live nomadic lives within the heavily Stocker-infested Department of Grocery. Due to their monopoly of the all-too valuable Grocery shelves, they are almost hostile to every Department within the Wal that they encounter, not willing to humor diplomatic ties or trade deals. It’s lucky that the Grocery Tribes remain fractured and in war with one another almost as they are with the entire Wal. If united, the Grocery Tribes could have every Department at their mercy.

Only the Cereai of the Cereal section are the only faction which has diplomatic ties to other Departments not within the grocery aisles. A loose knit monastic group of holy warriors, they adorn themselves in thick cardboard boxes, labelled with the iconography of their patron saint. Each Cereai follows a different ‘path’ depending on who they worship.

The Pet Tamers

“ To Have Fear is to be Prey”

The Pet-Tamers of Pets N Animals hold an invaluable monopoly, virtue of being the only Department in the Wal to command and domesticate mutated household abominations. This fearsome reputation is due to their massive stockpile of mutagenic pet food and supplementations that genetically modify benign species of animals such as hamsters and parakeets into death-dealing monstrosities. Breeders help to maintain and rear their stocks of Pets whilst Rangers and Hunters venture out in the Wal to find new Pets and to eliminate monsters that threaten the sanctity of their settlements.

The Cult of the Smiling One

“ Always Low Prices.”

There is no singular one faction that attracts as much dread, hatred or loathing by all other Departments in the Wal other than the Cult of the Smiling One. Worship of Smiley, their central idol, is banned in most Departments. Secret cults, like infestations, do take root and flourish, taking advantage of the lost, the needy and the weak to remould in their image.

It is hard to recognise a follower at first. Unlike in the early days, where most preferred to wear the uniform of the former employees of Wal-Incorporated, they tend to take a more subtle approach. In battle or when enacting one of their crusades, they don yellow facepaint alongside with their uniform.

The central tenet of the Cult is to maintain the status quo of the Wal at all costs possible. Sabotage of peace treaties, incitement of conflicts between Departments, activating defunct Sec-bots, the Cult of the Smiling One believes that these are necessary acts to maintain the vision that the Great Sam had for the Wal. The tenacity and single-minded religious fervor of their followers is . Hearing the sound of a thousand Smilers cry “ ALWAYS LOW PRICES” haunts the memories of those who have survived their crusades.

Through coincidence or through sheer plain luck, the Cult of the Smiling One has suffered many schisms in their organisation, leading to new splinter groups. The Neo-Smilers and the Frowners are considered to be the two most popular denominations out of the dozens that have formed in these wars. The Neo-Smilers adhere to maintaining the status quo, albeit in a more pacifistic manner rather than the militant methods of their original founders. The Frowners are former Smilers who have become ‘heretical’ in the eyes of the original Cult, believing the Cult of the Smiling One to have strayed away from Sam’s original teachings.

Common Setting Terminology

Age B'Gone - A miraculous anti-ageing formula developed by Wal-Incorporated with disturbing side effects. Only stocked in the Toys Department.

Aisler/Shopper - General lingo for any inhabitant or person of the Wal.

Amblouceti - Horrifically obese mutants on highly experimental mobility scooters that stalk the aisles of the Wal, waiting to consume their next victim.

Dorfs - Inhabitants of the Toys Department who managed to retain their sanity and mental acuity during their exposure to Age 'B Gone. Unfortunately, they are physically malformed compared to other shoppers, the most apparent trait being their physiological dwarfism.

Departments - Rather than referring to actual departments, it has become a shorthand term to describe a certain group or culture of people from a specific department.

Lifter - Nickname for hired career mercenaries who have notable experience in the Wal. Named so due to the connotations of danger associated with 'shoplifting'.

Management - A myth perpetuated by fools. There is no management. THEY'RE REAL. DON'T BELIEVE THE LIES.

Nevergrow - Children who has overdosed on Age B'Gone or consumed expired versions of the anti-ageing compound. They developed physiological mutations as well as mental illnesses as a result of this, their adult minds being unable to handle the experience of being trapped in a child's body. Bands of NeverGrow are known to commonly venture out from the Toys Department and attack the settlements of other Departments.

Parking Lots - A common term for the Land Beyond the Wal. It is also used as a euphemism for the afterlife.

Stockers - Robot workers responsible for general maintenance of the Wal, with their primary purpose being to ensure that shelves are restocked. Come in all shapes and sizes depending on the function they are needed for. Elimination of shoplifters is also their secondary priority.

Sec-Bots/Security - Towering automaton juggernauts of death and fury. If you see a Sec-Bot, don't run or escape because you're already dead.

Smilers - Term for any indoctrinated member of or individual religiously associated with the Cult of the Smiling One.

Sporting Goods - Weapon.

Wal-Tech - Highly experimental technology developed by Wal-Incorporated.

//RULES

1) There will be no mandated time in which you are required to post. However, please do not use this as an excuse to hibernate for one month and suddenly, post again. If you are unable to post, please inform the group or Wal-Master beforehand so I can make the necessary adaptations in order to keep the pace of the game flowing forward.

2) Refer to me as Wal-Master in all official communications.

3) Your characters must be characters, in the sense that they are fully fleshed out and engaging. The character must be able to fit within the context of the setting. Making overpowered characters who forcefully metagame, powergame, god-mod or murderhobo is just not okay or fun. This is a post-apocalyptic roleplay set in a giant Walmart. You will naturally know when your character will stick out like a sore thumb.

4) Any character who have such relations or references to IKEA, Costco or Amazon will be forcefully rejected.

5) I'm strictly a quality over quantity guy when it comes to roleplaying. I'm expecting a rough writing standard that is an impasse between casual and advanced. There is also a semi-strict posting requirement of 2-3 paragraphs per post. If you want to write 10 paragraphs, that's okay in my book. All that I ask is that each post you makes move the RP forward.

6) Do not post any content or material that would violate RPGO's rules. This includes harassment of ethnicity, religion, race or sexual orientation. Violence, gore and more violence is welcome in plenty but any sexually risque material, if any poster has the utmost need to include it, should be done in black or kept in PMs. Rule 6 will also extend to any OOC behavior.

7) Do not ask me for a dedicated Discord channel. All OOC communications will be conducted on RPGO forums. If you have any personal questions, PM me.

8) Always asks any questions that you may have so I can make them into not-questions anymore.

9) There is no set posting order but do not multi-post without giving someone else the chance to do so.

10) Embrace the insanity of the Wal.

11)Worldbuilding and developing your own lore and interpretations of this world is encouraged along with discussion of plot elements. Although I'll primarily drive the main lore that embodies the world, there's plenty of room to write your own visions and own beliefs of how this world would be like.

12) Have fun.

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Employee Registration

PERSONAL ACCOUNT

NAME: (Self Explanatory)

GENDER: (Self Explanatory)

DEPARTMENT: (Remember that your department is the single biggest consideration for how it affects your character concept. The traits, personality, skills and equipment your character has will be exemplified by what department they originate from)

AISLE: (The sub-faction or specific group that your character associates with in their respective Department.)

AGE: (Fairly self explanatory, though, be realistic. Anything less than 18 years old is pushing it mildly.)

APPEARANCE: (Again, fairly evident by what it means. Describe your character as much as you want to. Obviously, if you have no image to supplant the text description, then, you're gonna need to put a whole lot more effort into fleshing out the visual image of your character here.)

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RESUME

(Your character's life until the beginning of their first job. How did they become who they were? What were the most important events of their life? Make it as long as you want to be.)

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RECEIPT

PERSONAL GOAL: (What are you trying to achieve in the Wal?)

LIKES: (List a few trivial things that your Shopper likes)

DISLIKES: (List a few trivial things that your Shopper dislikes)

REPUTE: (We've been asking a lot about how your character looks at the world, so, let's reverse it around. How does the world view your character? What status does your character have in the world?)

HEEL:(Heels are basically an over-riding character flaw that exemplifies the type of person your character is. It's what other people know your character for being. Examples of Weak Spots can be: Hubris, Selfishness, Naivety, Easily Angered, Inferiority Complex, Napoleon Complexes, Vengeful, Sadistic, Paranoia. A Heel is different from just another normal character flaw because they are an essential part of your character that makes your character who they are. They can never escape from a Weak Spot.)

CODE: (Codes are a deep sentiment, passion or virtue that a character holds dearly to, in spite of the hostile and unrelenting nature of the Wal. It's a trait that someone would have if they lived in a sane world outside the Wal. Soft Spots can be: Valuing freedom, A Hero Complex, Social Justice, Friendship, Honesty, Being Protective of your Family, Protecting the Weak, A Pact that You Abide By, Veganism, Empathy.)

QUIRKS:(Unique traits that your character is known for doing such as collecting ears off their dead enemies, always ordering their drinks with a single cube of ice, whatever strange things that immedietely makes them distinct from everyone else.)

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PERFORMANCE REVIEW

(What skills does your character have that allowed them to survive this long without dying? One thing that you may be noticing here is that I'm not including any flaws in here. That's right. You wanna know why? Because, I believe having many flaws is just an excuse for an roleplayer to switch between them willy nilly and disregard them. Therefore, there is only one, great singular flaw that will inhibit your character every step of the way. Any of the skills that you have has to be justified by the Department you came from and your character's backstory.)

(SKILL) ► (DESCRIPTION)

GROCERIES

(Your character's equipment. Keep it reasonable, though. You only brought what was necessary for what you thought was going to be a simple escort mission.)

(ITEM NAME) ► (DESCRIPTION)

(ITEM NAME) ► (DESCRIPTION)

(ITEM NAME) ► (DESCRIPTION)

Is forum Roleplaying beginning to slow down?

Short answer?

In my completely subjective opinion, no.

Long answer?

How exactly are we going to quantify or define the line where which forum roleplaying has died out? Forum activity on dedicated roleplaying boards? The post frequency of a roleplaying board? The number of members? The average word count of posts?

Forum roleplaying isn't slowing down. It's changing and is large as it has ever been. To constrict your view entirely to experience on RPGO or on the other sites mentioned in this thread is simply naive. There are hundreds of other role-playing forums, roleplaying subforums and let's not even get into the other mediums that have arisen over the years that have called themselves 'forums'. I've seen play-by-post roleplaying sub-forums that dwarf RPGO in size and are still active as they have ever been.

So, to put it shortly, no. Forum roleplaying has not slowed down. It's just changed just as the world and its mediums of communication have.

UNTOLD STORY: Final Dungeon

Meanwhile, the Penta Posse continued arguing behind the twitching corpse of sentient burger meat, still moaning and crying out for the sweet release of death. They were less concerned about dodging the next volley of explosive arrows and more concerned with winning the blame game.

“ Are you telling me we wasted all of our mana, just on that?”

" Jeremiah, you idiot. We're now sitting ducks because of you."

" Yeah, Jeremiah."

" You stupid idiot."

" You useless waste of a finger."

" Why don't we just light him on fire?"

" Everybody, shut up!" In the midst of their arguing, Fred had taken over, the platypus's fingers crooked in a scowl as he raised his head up and down, panting. He then took the mana potion from Clara's hands, whispering a small thank you, before sipping it slowly as if it was a delicate cup of tea. Actually, it was more awkward giving that his host body gurgled it down unnaturally rather than swallowing.

With magic newly renewed in his veins, Fred began to relinquish control to the Penta Posse. Unfortunately, he was interrupted by the pleading noises of the Hamburglar moaning in agony.

" Please, KILL ME." It cried out. " My existence is unbearable. Kill me and let entropy rot my body away into nothingness."

" Don't worry, Mr Hamburglar! I'll volunteer to kill you!" Fred skipped over towards the rolling head of the Hamburglar and stopped at the middle of his eye. Pressing one of his hands against the head, concentrating energy that could bend the will of the fabrics of the universe, only an incantation was needed to focus it into an conduit.

" I cast Summon Twinkie!"

For a moment, nothing appeared to happen. No twinkie was seen nor was there any magical effect. Well, for five seconds until the Hamburglar began twitching, his arms spastically shaking in violent spasms. The twinkie had materialized within the skull of the Hamburglar and displaced what substitute it had for grey matter into mush. There was a whisper of thank you before the Hamburglar became 20 tonnes of decomposing hamburger meat in a grassy field.

The Penta Posse took over, one of the fingers speaking directly towards Clara. " Tell you what, corpse-slinger. We can reconstitute the meat as well as the bones into something bigger and badder. Just tell us when you're ready."

The Consortium

Barnabum Yerickford

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Barnabum Yerickford

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Character Summary

Name: Barnabum Yerickford the IV
Aliases: Barney, Old Man Barnes, Barmey Yerickford
Age: 89
Species:Gnome
Gender:Male
Occupation/Position:Mechanic
Alignment: Chaotic Good

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Appearance

Height: 4'1.
Build:Stocky, stout and strong with a hefty gut of sky-forged steel with spindly and spry limbs.
Eyes: Barney has one milky cataract with a wicked grooved scar slicing through the lid and one brilliant blue eye that twitches maniacally with
Hair: Stress, experimentation with various banned illegal substances within the United Planet Science Academy and his family's genetic propensity towards albinism have resulted in the most spherical bald head in the galaxy. It's so bald that mindflayer mathematicians have written several proofs and conjectures for its perfection. This is accompanied by a less than remarkable frayed ring of singed white hair and a bushy beard of bone.
Skin Tone: Barney's rough and wrinkled skin is always sooty and stained, looking as if he hasn't showered for the last decade or so.
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: A marked brand of the United Planets Science Academy Official Planar Extra-Galactic Periodic Table of Mundane and Magical Elements version 3.5.
Personal Style: Style? Style is a secondary priority to Barnabum compared to science. Barnabum favors wearing open and loose clothing that helps prevent him from fainting due to heat stroke such as his tacky overalls and oil-splattered work jeans. He can be always found with a pair of round, thick mismatched googles that magnify his eyes to a ridiculous extent.

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Personality:

Genius * Kooky * Scientist * Enthusiastic * Curious * Obsessive

Relationship Status: Married to Science

Questionnaire: This is going to be a little different. Instead of a typical personality summary, you get to pretend your character is answering a questionnaire! Just answer the following in character.

What first impression do you make?

Ah, yes, impressions, impressions, the most important activity of the day, yes, impressions. People give me that strange look whenever I talk 'bout something important, like the 32 uses of pixie wing dust as a lubricant! Would you be intereted in knowing some by any chance? But, I digress. Like, I said, if they think I'm strange, I think they're even stranger, going about like everything's normal. I'm telling you, it's NOT!

What are you like in a high stress situation?

Ha ha, high stress! High STRESS?! Oh boy, stress runs in my blood. Every second of my life is a high stress situation. Can you feel your heart beating in your chest? The wind in your lungs? Your brain burning like a supernova? That's me!

What are your best and worst qualities?

My best quality is that I never give up on a task, no matter what. If I set mah mind to it, I'll get it done in a quick or slow jiffy! Science is a fickle mistress that requires courage and the will to see things through. I'm also open minded! It doesn't matter where ye come from. If you can offer me something, then, it don't matter whether you're a 100 foot tall cosmic dragon, a dark elf, an orc or a Demon from the Infernal Planes, you're adamantite in my books.

My worst qualities? Well, some folks say that I can get a wee bit para- Look out! KILL IT! KILL IT! Hold there, right still, stop trying to duck, it's only a little bit of dragonfla- Wait a second. It's a butterfly. Sorry fer pointing mah cannon at yeh. Heh heh.

Oh, fine, I do also admit that I might be a little hasty when it comes to my inventions. My brother never did forgave me for transmorgifying his head into a minotaur back in college........

What is something about yourself that you would never admit to anyone?

Secrets?! No one told me this was going to be about spilling my beans! Who'd sent you? The Guild of Internal Investigations? Some United Planets stooge? You're out for me, aren't you?

Oh, yah don't mean something illegal. Not about the buried - Zip it, Yerickford. Zip it.

Now, what was I saying? Ah, right. Something that I wouldn't want to admit to anyone in this crew is that, well......

I'm lonely, you see. Sometimes, I try to bury myself under so much inventing, tinkering and gadgeteering so that I don't think of these here thoughts. Keep myself busy instead of thinking philosophically. What happens when I can't invent anymore? Everyone knows me fer meh inventions but I've never actually made any friends.....

Bah, enough of those bad thoughts. You must have sneaked some mind altering substance into this here room to get me talking like that! Got any more questions fer me?

What are your dreams?

The only good dreams I get ar' tah colorful ones I see whenever I smoke my fungus cigars. Oh, you'll never believe the things you can imagine when you take a puff o' one of these.

Oh, sleeping? Please, sleeping is far dah week. A gnome can stay awake for at least ten days before experiencing any fatal heart attacks. I once stayed awake for an entire month during a university project, although, it took over ten clerics to convince my soul to return back to my body.

But, when I do need to sleep, I dream of numbers. Of inventions. Of mechanisms. Like a fragmented map or puzzle with some of the pieces taken out. Makes inventing all the more challenging. That's what I dream of, yes, mathematical dreams.

How do you want to be seen by others?

I don’t wanna be seen as anything by other people! Why'd I care about how other people think of my unique dietary habits or my collection of moonstones? I want mah inventions to be seen. To be used by other people and to help those who would use it. Ya think I just make gizmos and whatchamacallits for the heck of it?!

Well, somewhat but that’s besides the point. I’m not just some crazy old buffoon who was dropped on a stalagmite! I’m also a certified scientist with a degree at that! I didn't study 10 years at a United Planets Institution only to get excommunicated by the rest of the scientific community! Yeesh, what is it going to take to get some recognition out in these quadrants…..

How do you see yourself?

Me? I see myself as the only sane person round these parts! Why aren’t these people more excited about science and tinkering? It’s what my entire life’s been about! I discover, I explore, I prod things to see how they react, I push the envelope, I fight boredom with brains!

Do you tend to make snap judgements, or stop and think about things?

Eh, I sometimes can be a lil’ hasty when it comes ta safety during experimentation. I’ve had ta deal with da consequences, literally. Just look at this eye.

O’er the years, I’ve learned to take things more slowly but of course, the joy of discovery and scienterrific innovation gets to my head sometimes, clouds mah judgement until I can’t see what’s in front of me.

What haunts you?

Are we alone? Good. This topic requires a great deal of sensitivity.

I see it. They called me insane! Out of the corner of my eye, oh they told old Barney that he was a fool, but one day, I saw it. I did, yes, it broke my Tielvalan crucible, you see. They told me, oh no, Barney, your left eye must be seeing ghosts but it was a ghost! The ghost of the Dread Unicorn itself!

I hear its hooves at night. That damn neighing. It's out for me, I know it......

What is your philosophy on life?

Mah philosophy on life is science! Science is mah philosophy. There ain’t nothing that can’t be understood or deciphered that hasn’t. Always question your surroundings and knowledge will be ripe for yer taking! I’m a seeker of truth and all of you fools are still here, head in the sands like armadillos, sunk in the lies of the newspapers and radios.

The truth's out there. Believe me.

(Note: You do not have to fill out every single bullet point, as long as you have at least one filled out on each topic).
Habits:

• Smoking lichen cigars
• Muttering incessantly under his breathe.
• Blabbering out random scientific trivia.

Hobbies:

• Tinkering
• Inventing
• Sampling flora and fauna from alien environments.
• Experimentation

Fears:

• Losing his inventions
• Misuse of his inventions
• Being alone
• The Dread Unicorn

Likes:

• Inventing
• Scientific Discovery
• Reading academic papers
• Innovation
• Fawning over machinery
• Mushrooms
• Explosions
• Pickled onions

Dislikes:

• Malfunctions
• Uncooperative machinery
• Quiet
• Showers and soap
• Oranges

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Information:

General Skills:

• Journeyman Scientist - With over five decades of experience in a large range of academic fields from owlbear yodelling to arithmantic calculus, Barney has an encyclopaediac knowledge of most things in the known galaxy, although some of it may be out of date.
• Tinkerer - Having received a Masters in Dwarven Engineering from the United Planets Institute of Smiths, Barney is a master mechanic and engineer, able to build, repair and modify a wide variety of contraptions. Whether or not these contraptions are up to United Planets code is subject to review.
• Sky Ship Maintainence - Barney knows the ins and outs of the anatomy of sky-ships, from how to repair them, what solar sails are the best in the market to the type of specific hull oil needed to give them the best shine. If you need a Sky Ship repairman, he’s your guy.
• Alchemist - Everyone learns a little bit of alchemy in Artificer College and Barney is no different. Whilst medicinal mushrooms are his forte, he’s got more than enough experience to whip up a quick healing potion or two.
• Skilled at playing the Gnomish panpipes and triangle.
• Able to speak fluent Gnomish, Common and is passable in most dialects of Deep Speech.

Magical/Speciality Skills:

• Artificer - Barney’s most volatile and underdeveloped skill that he learned during an elective. The ability to enchant or infuse magic into objects. Due to Barney’s complete lack of magical ability or aptitude, his ability to artifice ranges from turning bags of holding into void rifts or boots of speed into shoes that curse you to walk forever.
• Possesses darkvision, a key trait among all subterranean races that allows them to see objects 60 feet away from them clearly in low light conditions as if it were day. The acuity of darkvision varies among most species and individuals. Barney's dark

Inventory:

• Lichen Cigars - A box of 24 oven-dried lichen cigars. Smoky yet delectable.
• Enchanted Googles of Augmented Perception - The prescription on these is so high that you could damage your eyes if you look into it for too long. However, Barnabum appears to not notice anything when wearing these goofy little things.
• Blunderbeholder - A mishmash of gears, sprockets, brass and steel molded together into a vague impression of a giant rifle with the eyeball of an Pygmy Beholder strapped to the front of the barrel. Don't ask him how he got the eye in the first place. This weird invention allows Barney to harness the magicks of the infamous creature by firing high powered beams of arcane energy.
• An assortment of various tools - Spanners. Screwdrivers. Clippers. Pipe wrenches. Ball-peen hammers. If you can find it in your local DIY shop's toolbox, it's bound to be in Barney's arsenal.
• Holy Adamantite Wrench - When you wanna whack someone, there is no better tool than this dented 10 inch indestructible wrench. Blessed by an Illithid Clerics of Kog-Sahoth during a tavern run, this wrench is a beacon of light that warms those who do good and damns those who are evil.
• Pipe - An old fashioned smoking pipe.
• A Big Old Sack of Mechanical Junk - A big load of random mechanical items and small little knick knacks that Barney brings around with him.

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History:

Woowee, a story! Yeesh, no one’s ever bothered to ask me fer a story. It all began ten thousands year ago during the birth of the galaxy itself, when the rock accreted to form my plane-

In the interest of time and the fact that Barnabum’s own accounts are riddled with contradictions and factual inconsistencies, we’ll post an abridged version.

Barnabum Yerickford grew up the third son of a Gnomish family on Oerrol. Oerrol was a quiet, pastoral agri-planet that was only famous for its two things: its country sized onion fields and boasting the largest gnome population this side of the western galactic quadrant. At a young age, Barnabum distinguished himself from his other siblings in his precocity when he managed to burn down his family’s lesser green drake coop with a matchstick. His pyromania soon evolved into a fascination with science and engineering when he travelled with his uncle to his planet’s local sky-ship port. Fascinated by the sight of the amazing vessels, Barnabum looked up at the stars every night, into the depths of the void and vowed to himself that he would spend all of his life uncovering the mysteries of the universe.

At the ripe old teen age of 20 gnome years (16 in human years), Oerrol immediately applied. Out of all the choices he had, he chose the backwater United Planet Institute of Smiths over prestigious academic universities such as Gillyhearst or KragFortress because, quote unquote, in his own words, they had a “ good price on their fried pickled onion stew in the cantina”. For the next 50 years, Barnabum became a multi-disciplinary graduate that was renown among the scientific and magical community for his unorthodox and unusual ways of pushing the fields of artificery and smithing, often disappearing into the far reaches of space for months before returning to strike out the mortuary that had been made for him.

His days would be numbered, though. During one of his live experiments involving a prototype generator that could harness the blood of basilisks as a renewable energy source, a catastrophic malfunction occurred causing everyone who was witness in the event to be transformed into abyssal amoebas, with the exception of Barnabum himself. The ethics board of the United Planets Science Academy was all too happy to use the incident as an excuse to sack Barnabum from his professorship and slander his name in the scientific community.

Barnabum would not have any of it. Believing his experiment to have been sabotaged and the United Planets Science Academy to be bureaucratic fascists, he quickly abandoned his laboratory, leaving only a tacky note for the campus police to find and hijacking a sky-ship for him to ride off into the cosmos.

Finding himself without any financial resources to fund his experiments, he signed up for the Consortium in search of adventure, science, money and more science.

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Extras

Character Quote: That's absolutely scienteriffic!
Anything Else:

Bork Lazer's Storage Bunker

Barnabum Yerickford

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Barnabum Yerickford

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Character Summary

Name: Barnabum Yerickford the IV
Aliases: Barney, Old Man Barnes, Barmey Yerickford
Age: 89
Species:Gnome
Gender:Male
Occupation/Position:Mechanic
Alignment: Chaotic Good

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Appearance

Height: 4'1.
Build:Stocky, stout and strong with a hefty gut of sky-forged steel with spindly and spry limbs.
Eyes: Barney has one milky cataract with a wicked grooved scar slicing through the lid and one brilliant blue eye that twitches maniacally with
Hair: Stress, experimentation with various banned illegal substances within the United Planet Science Academy and his family's genetic propensity towards albinism have resulted in the most spherical bald head in the galaxy. It's so bald that mindflayer mathematicians have written several proofs and conjectures for its perfection. This is accompanied by a less than remarkable frayed ring of singed white hair and a bushy beard of bone.
Skin Tone: Barney's rough and wrinkled skin is always sooty and stained, looking as if he hasn't showered for the last decade or so.
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: A marked brand of the United Planets Science Academy Official Planar Extra-Galactic Periodic Table of Mundane and Magical Elements version 3.5.
Personal Style: Style? Style is a secondary priority to Barnabum compared to science. Barnabum favors wearing open and loose clothing that helps prevent him from fainting due to heat stroke such as his tacky overalls and oil-splattered work jeans. He can be always found with a pair of round, thick mismatched googles that magnify his eyes to a ridiculous extent.

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Personality:

Genius * Kooky * Scientist * Enthusiastic * Curious * Obsessive

Relationship Status: Married to Science

Questionnaire: This is going to be a little different. Instead of a typical personality summary, you get to pretend your character is answering a questionnaire! Just answer the following in character.

What first impression do you make?

Ah, yes, impressions, impressions, the most important activity of the day, yes, impressions. People give me that strange look whenever I talk 'bout something important, like the 32 uses of pixie wing dust as a lubricant! Would you be intereted in knowing some by any chance? But, I digress. Like, I said, if they think I'm strange, I think they're even stranger, going about like everything's normal. I'm telling you, it's NOT!

What are you like in a high stress situation?

Ha ha, high stress! High STRESS?! Oh boy, stress runs in my blood. Every second of my life is a high stress situation. Can you feel your heart beating in your chest? The wind in your lungs? Your brain burning like a supernova? That's me!

What are your best and worst qualities?

My best quality is that I never give up on a task, no matter what. If I set mah mind to it, I'll get it done in a quick or slow jiffy! Science is a fickle mistress that requires courage and the will to see things through. I'm also open minded! It doesn't matter where ye come from. If you can offer me something, then, it don't matter whether you're a 100 foot tall cosmic dragon, a dark elf, an orc or a Demon from the Infernal Planes, you're adamantite in my books.

My worst qualities? Well, some folks say that I can get a wee bit para- Look out! KILL IT! KILL IT! Hold there, right still, stop trying to duck, it's only a little bit of dragonfla- Wait a second. It's a butterfly. Sorry fer pointing mah cannon at yeh. Heh heh.

Oh, fine, I do also admit that I might be a little hasty when it comes to my inventions. My brother never did forgave me for transmorgifying his head into a minotaur back in college........

What is something about yourself that you would never admit to anyone?

Secrets?! No one told me this was going to be about spilling my beans! Who'd sent you? The Guild of Internal Investigations? Some United Planets stooge? You're out for me, aren't you?

Oh, yah don't mean something illegal. Not about the buried - Zip it, Yerickford. Zip it.

Now, what was I saying? Ah, right. Something that I wouldn't want to admit to anyone in this crew is that, well......

I'm lonely, you see. Sometimes, I try to bury myself under so much inventing, tinkering and gadgeteering so that I don't think of these here thoughts. Keep myself busy instead of thinking philosophically. What happens when I can't invent anymore? Everyone knows me fer meh inventions but I've never actually made any friends.....

Bah, enough of those bad thoughts. You must have sneaked some mind altering substance into this here room to get me talking like that! Got any more questions fer me?

What are your dreams?

The only good dreams I get ar' tah colorful ones I see whenever I smoke my fungus cigars. Oh, you'll never believe the things you can imagine when you take a puff o' one of these.

Oh, sleeping? Please, sleeping is far dah week. A gnome can stay awake for at least ten days before experiencing any fatal heart attacks. I once stayed awake for an entire month during a university project, although, it took over ten clerics to convince my soul to return back to my body.

But, when I do need to sleep, I dream of numbers. Of inventions. Of mechanisms. Like a fragmented map or puzzle with some of the pieces taken out. Makes inventing all the more challenging. That's what I dream of, yes, mathematical dreams.

How do you want to be seen by others?

I don’t wanna be seen as anything by other people! Why'd I care about how other people think of my unique dietary habits or my collection of moonstones? I want mah inventions to be seen. To be used by other people and to help those who would use it. Ya think I just make gizmos and whatchamacallits for the heck of it?!

Well, somewhat but that’s besides the point. I’m not just some crazy old buffoon who was dropped on a stalagmite! I’m also a certified scientist with a degree at that! I didn't study 10 years at a United Planets Institution only to get excommunicated by the rest of the scientific community! Yeesh, what is it going to take to get some recognition out in these quadrants…..

How do you see yourself?

Me? I see myself as the only sane person round these parts! Why aren’t these people more excited about science and tinkering? It’s what my entire life’s been about! I discover, I explore, I prod things to see how they react, I push the envelope, I fight boredom with brains!

Do you tend to make snap judgements, or stop and think about things?

Eh, I sometimes can be a lil’ hasty when it comes ta safety during experimentation. I’ve had ta deal with da consequences, literally. Just look at this eye.

O’er the years, I’ve learned to take things more slowly but of course, the joy of discovery and scienterrific innovation gets to my head sometimes, clouds mah judgement until I can’t see what’s in front of me.

What haunts you?

Are we alone? Good. This topic requires a great deal of sensitivity.

I see it. They called me insane! Out of the corner of my eye, oh they told old Barney that he was a fool, but one day, I saw it. I did, yes, it broke my Tielvalan crucible, you see. They told me, oh no, Barney, your left eye must be seeing ghosts but it was a ghost! The ghost of the Dread Unicorn itself!

I hear its hooves at night. That damn neighing. It's out for me, I know it......

What is your philosophy on life?

Mah philosophy on life is science! Science is mah philosophy. There ain’t nothing that can’t be understood or deciphered that hasn’t. Always question your surroundings and knowledge will be ripe for yer taking! I’m a seeker of truth and all of you fools are still here, head in the sands like armadillos, sunk in the lies of the newspapers and radios.

The truth's out there. Believe me.

(Note: You do not have to fill out every single bullet point, as long as you have at least one filled out on each topic).
Habits:

• Smoking lichen cigars
• Muttering incessantly under his breathe.
• Blabbering out random scientific trivia.

Hobbies:

• Tinkering
• Inventing
• Sampling flora and fauna from alien environments.
• Experimentation

Fears:

• Losing his inventions
• Misuse of his inventions
• Being alone
• The Dread Unicorn

Likes:

• Inventing
• Scientific Discovery
• Reading academic papers
• Innovation
• Fawning over machinery
• Mushrooms
• Explosions
• Pickled onions

Dislikes:

• Malfunctions
• Uncooperative machinery
• Quiet
• Showers and soap
• Oranges

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Information:

General Skills:

• Journeyman Scientist - With over five decades of experience in a large range of academic fields from owlbear yodelling to arithmantic calculus, Barney has an encyclopaediac knowledge of most things in the known galaxy, although some of it may be out of date.
• Tinkerer - Having received a Masters in Dwarven Engineering from the United Planets Institute of Smiths, Barney is a master mechanic and engineer, able to build, repair and modify a wide variety of contraptions. Whether or not these contraptions are up to United Planets code is subject to review.
• Sky Ship Maintainence - Barney knows the ins and outs of the anatomy of sky-ships, from how to repair them, what solar sails are the best in the market to the type of specific hull oil needed to give them the best shine. If you need a Sky Ship repairman, he’s your guy.
• Alchemist - Everyone learns a little bit of alchemy in Artificer College and Barney is no different. Whilst medicinal mushrooms are his forte, he’s got more than enough experience to whip up a quick healing potion or two.
• Skilled at playing the Gnomish panpipes and triangle.
• Able to speak fluent Gnomish, Common and is passable in most dialects of Deep Speech.

Magical/Speciality Skills:

• Artificer - Barney’s most volatile and underdeveloped skill that he learned during an elective. The ability to enchant or infuse magic into objects. Due to Barney’s complete lack of magical ability or aptitude, his ability to artifice ranges from turning bags of holding into void rifts or boots of speed into shoes that curse you to walk forever.
• Possesses darkvision, a key trait among all subterranean races that allows them to see objects 60 feet away from them clearly in low light conditions as if it were day. The acuity of darkvision varies among most species and individuals. Barney's dark

Inventory:

• Lichen Cigars - A box of 24 oven-dried lichen cigars. Smoky yet delectable.
• Enchanted Googles of Augmented Perception - The prescription on these is so high that you could damage your eyes if you look into it for too long. However, Barnabum appears to not notice anything when wearing these goofy little things.
• Blunderbeholder - A mishmash of gears, sprockets, brass and steel molded together into a vague impression of a giant rifle with the eyeball of an Pygmy Beholder strapped to the front of the barrel. Don't ask him how he got the eye in the first place. This weird invention allows Barney to harness the magicks of the infamous creature by firing high powered beams of arcane energy.
• An assortment of various tools - Spanners. Screwdrivers. Clippers. Pipe wrenches. Ball-peen hammers. If you can find it in your local DIY shop's toolbox, it's bound to be in Barney's arsenal.
• Holy Adamantite Wrench - When you wanna whack someone, there is no better tool than this dented 10 inch indestructible wrench. Blessed by an Illithid Clerics of Kog-Sahoth during a tavern run, this wrench is a beacon of light that warms those who do good and damns those who are evil.
• Pipe - An old fashioned smoking pipe.
• A Big Old Sack of Mechanical Junk - A big load of random mechanical items and small little knick knacks that Barney brings around with him.

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History:

Woowee, a story! Yeesh, no one’s ever bothered to ask me fer a story. It all began ten thousands year ago during the birth of the galaxy itself, when the rock accreted to form my plane-

In the interest of time and the fact that Barnabum’s own accounts are riddled with contradictions and factual inconsistencies, we’ll post an abridged version.

Barnabum Yerickford grew up the third son of a Gnomish family on Oerrol. Oerrol was a quiet, pastoral agri-planet that was only famous for its two things: its country sized onion fields and boasting the largest gnome population this side of the western galactic quadrant. At a young age, Barnabum distinguished himself from his other siblings in his precocity when he managed to burn down his family’s lesser green drake coop with a matchstick. His pyromania soon evolved into a fascination with science and engineering when he travelled with his uncle to his planet’s local sky-ship port. Fascinated by the sight of the amazing vessels, Barnabum looked up at the stars every night, into the depths of the void and vowed to himself that he would spend all of his life uncovering the mysteries of the universe.

At the ripe old teen age of 20 gnome years (16 in human years), Oerrol immediately applied. Out of all the choices he had, he chose the backwater United Planet Institute of Smiths over prestigious academic universities such as Gillyhearst or KragFortress because, quote unquote, in his own words, they had a “ good price on their fried pickled onion stew in the cantina”. For the next 50 years, Barnabum became a multi-disciplinary graduate that was renown among the scientific and magical community for his unorthodox and unusual ways of pushing the fields of artificery and smithing, often disappearing into the far reaches of space for months before returning to strike out the mortuary that had been made for him.

His days would be numbered, though. During one of his live experiments involving a prototype generator that could harness the blood of basilisks as a renewable energy source, a catastrophic malfunction occurred causing everyone who was witness in the event to be transformed into abyssal amoebas, with the exception of Barnabum himself. The ethics board of the United Planets Science Academy was all too happy to use the incident as an excuse to sack Barnabum from his professorship and slander his name in the scientific community.

Barnabum would not have any of it. Believing his experiment to have been sabotaged and the United Planets Science Academy to be bureaucratic fascists, he quickly abandoned his laboratory, leaving only a tacky note for the campus police to find and hijacking a sky-ship for him to ride off into the cosmos.

Finding himself without any financial resources to fund his experiments, he signed up for the Consortium in search of adventure, science, money and more science.

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Extras

Character Quote: That's absolutely scienteriffic!
Anything Else:

Forsaken

“ Annoying? Annoying? The food was a crime against nature! Annoying was understating it! I - “ Lak Lok stopped mid sentence when he noticed every patron in the restaurant was pointedly looking at him with stares of confusion and fear.

Ah.

He might have gotten too ahead of himself here.

“ Though…..., I may have caused a scene. I realise that not everyone appreciates my tastes for cuisine.” Lak Lok’s slitted nostrils flared in resignation before glumly speaking. “ Fine. Very well. I will do my best to reign in my temper. I’m sorry.”

As a gesture of apology, Lak Lok begrudgingly deposited one coin of his own on top of the tab before sliding off the stool. “ Let us be off, then. We have places to be, things to do, delicacies to sample, mysteries to - ”

Lak Lok paused as he was walking out of the tavern, sniffing the air for a few moments. His head then turned almost 360 degrees towards a troll who was slowly cutting into a grilled cavefish. The troll stopped cutting when he took a look at Lak Lok’s mortified expression. Without explanation, the kobold scrambled towards the troll hurriedly and slapped the knife out of his hand, sending it clattering over the floor.

“ The cavefish is still undercooked.” Lak Lok then dipped his claw into the flesh of the fish and showed the ruby red blood still visible underneath. He then shook himself out of his stupor and then, smiled sheepishly. “ Just trying to help you.”

He then leaped off the table and then walked towards the entrance, waving for the members of the group to come over.

Writing the taboo

I'll be the first one to say that the execution of a taboo always matters. Rape, mental illness, war crimes, genocide or slavery can be depicted or executed in a manner that can help contribute to the enjoyment and engagement of a roleplay. However, the way you approach it matters. The tone and how you ultimately convey this taboo matters. How do you frame the taboo within your RP? Does it play an important role in your narrative or story? Are you deliberately focusing on the merits of this taboo in any way? If so, why?

Luckily, we do have a good public case study example of how not to approach a taboo topic with nuance on RPGO. The GM hasn't been on this site for 3 years so I'm confident I won't be engaging in any harassment or character attacks in any manner whatsoever.

https://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/92294-the-rape-of-nanking/ooc

The link above demonstrates all of the common problems when writers fail to understand taboo topics in a way.

1) Not treating a sensitive topic with maturity or respect.
2) Deliberately including game-play mechanics or encouraging players to engage with the taboo topic in a disrespectful manner.
3) Deliberately glorifying the taboo in an almost celebratory manner or conveying it in such a way that is disturbing to say the least.

All of these factors contribute to making the RP above absolutely ignorant and lacking in nuance of how it chooses to approach the taboo in manner. I think if you want to know how not to tackle taboos on this forum, the baseline has already been set by this roleplay concept.

It's already been repeated above but I'll say it again. The difference between writing taboos in a novel of your own making and a roleplay is that roleplay first and foremost is collaborative writing and therefore, requires an unspoken consent between involved parties on what taboos they are comfortable with including within the RP. There's also the fact that whilst RPGO is primarily dominated by people living in the US, each and every person will be raised in different backgrounds with different values. What may be considered taboo for others will be considered normal for other people to discuss. Different cultures, societies and religions will have different taboos and different perspectives on how they engage with these taboos.

That said, the big 'no no' for me is if a roleplayer or writer attempts to gleefully justify or advocate within the text for taboo topics such as racism, rape, genocide or violence, where it imparts upon other roleplayers or readers a positive message about these things in particular. Note that there is a world of difference between in-text justifications or writing characters that justify or advocate these beliefs.

Anyway, that's all I have to say on this subject matter.

UNTOLD STORY: Final Dungeon

Tyroden sighed disappointedly, like a child who had his toy taken away, when his spell burst apart the squid like overripe fruit. His mournful frown was replaced by a grin of exhilaration when he saw that the skysquid had reformed into smaller versions of itself. Yes. More to rip and tear. More to destroy. More flesh to savor.

“ You!” Tyroden pointed a finger towards one tiny sky squid. “ You think you can escape the wrath of - “

That was when the explosion hit him. It felt as though the ground had crumbled beneath his feet, the wind knocked out of his sails as he landed on the grass. Instead of one singular pixie dictator puppet, it was five different finger puppets that stood up. The Penta Posse had seized control of Nick Nack's platypus thrall who was now limping along.

“ Enough grandstanding from the warlord.” One of the fingers proudly announced. “ It’s now my time to shine.”

The clouds darkened as the platypus raised both of his hands in a T-pose. The five fingers began contorting and twisting into odd shapes and symbols, an eldritch language erupting forth from the platypus bard's maw.

“ I cast Ritual of the King! Arise from the pits of the Potato Planes! Arise the Bane, The Hamburglar of the Infernal Fryer!”

There was a crackle of aetheric energy surrounding the pentagram. The smell of corn syrup and artery clogging death suffused the air, the walls of reality began to crumble around them deliciously. An enormously large hand the size of a Arobrean mountain giant pushed through the crack, widening it open. Mailed in hamburger meat, the hand clawed its way through and stepped into the material realm, a head that suspiciously looked like a large chicken nugget poking through. Whatever the Penta Posse had casted, it was something nightmarish indeed, something to spook the minds of elvish vegans and dietary professionals alike.

Well, it was horrifying for five seconds. The opening quavered in place for a moment, the energy emanating from it carving trenches into the pastoral landscape. Like a blooper reel, it then collasped on itself, just as the torso of the Hamburglar was beginning to emerge. A brackish spray of jaundiced blood soaked the soil, the Hamburglar crying out in sheer agony. Its guts were strewn about, distended from its bisected torso. Instead of a monument to the sins of fast food, it was an abortion of high cholesterol proportions. It looked towards Clara and raised a meaty hand towards her in a begging motion, pleading with her.

“ K-kkiilll…...me……...please…….” it warbled, coughing out globs of fry oil. Meanwhile, the Penta Posse stood in silence before one of them spoke out.

“ Bob, did you forget to charge your mana this morning?!”

"YOU IDIOT!" The index finger glared at the thumb. " LOOK AT HIM! LOOK! How is this supposed to inspire fear into our opponents."

“Ah, never mind that.” The Penta Posse strode over to the twitching and wracking body of the dying Hamburglar, taking cover underneath his body, the stench of ketchup and soggy french fries suffusing the air. They then shouted towards both the ratfolk and the necromancer. " we'll be taking cover under him if you don't mind! If you want to get hit by the next volley, be our guest!"