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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.
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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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War.

War never changes.


The final conflicts of the 21st century were not waged over religion or territory but over control of our dwindling resources. Nations that were once allies were at each others throats, intent on preserving what they had by taking what little others had. Finally, on the eve of 2077, the world was damned in a storm of nuclear fire and devastation. And for a while, darkness and quiet reigned over the cold, irradiated surface of Earth.

This would not mark the end of humanity. Many of those who survived the fallout did so in large underground vaults. When the surface became safe for settlement, the inhabitants spread out and colonized the surface, forming tribes and societies. As more and more of the world woke up, the same tired squabbles and conflicts that brought the world to ruin were reborn again.

Past the radiation storms of the Pacific Cauldron lie the myths of an unblemished paradise: the Aloha Isles. Before the Great War, the Aloha Isles were a haven for the rich and wealthy as they sought peace from the turmoil in America. However, on the shorelines of the Aloha Isles, another face remained unseen in its great harbors, that of nuclear warheads and fleets of warships hidden deep underwater.

In the decades following the end of the Great War, Kamehameha the Hermit, united the six islands under the flag of the New Hawaian Chiefdom and used military pre-war technology to turn the coastline into an expansive blockade. Over the next century, the New Hawaian chiefdom has defended their coastal heartlands from all manner of mutant, pirate and invader . As supplies began to dwindle on the island, new generations of Aloha Islanders began to relax their borders, recognising the need for trade and communication with the outside world.

It has been 50 years since the Aloha Isles announced their presence to the world and time has yet to judge their choice. Factions such as the Brotherhood of Steel and the fading remnants of the New California Republic seek to plunder the ancient military complexes on Aloha out of greed whilst others seek to begin again in paradise.

You are one tourist out of many seeking new fortunes on the recomissioned ocean liner, the Green Horizon. Whatever your intentions in the Aloha Isles, this cruise is on a collision course with fate itself…….





WHAT IS FALLOUT ALOHA

Fallout: Aloha is an action play-by-post roleplaying game set in the world of Fallout originally created by Interplay Entertainment. The majority of the roleplay will take place in the post-apocalyptic remnants of Hawaii in this universe. Players can feel free to use elements from all other related pieces of media within the Fallout universe or substitute their fanon, provided it fits into the setting.

Players are allowed to play a total of one character (alongside any pets or non-human companions) that can be of any race (within reason). Players can interact within their group or go off on their own to venture in the Aloha Isles (although this is highly discouraged).

The GM will play the role of various faction leaders, allies and enemies of the player OCs on the Aloha Isles. Players are encouraged to suggest their own factions, allies or any enemy factions they feel would be natural for the setting.

THE SETTING

The world of Fallout can be summarized in one word as “ post-apocalyptic satirical retrofuturism”. Unlike other counterparts in the genre such as “The Day After” or “The Stand”; Fallout is considerably more optimistic and uses its unique retrofuturistic setting to make light of the bleak circumstances of the aftermath of nuclear fallout.

The timeline of Fallout diverges from our own reality roughly around the end of World War 2. Technological development proceeded down a different route in Fallout as humanity harnessed atomic energy as a means of power and fuel for all manner of retrofuturistic appliances and technologies such as nuclear powered cars, advanced exoskeletons and laser guns. Things roughly proceeded down the same route as reality except with a lot more McCarthyism, communist paranoia, corporate monopolies and a dizzying amount of american exceptionalism.

Unfortunately, the same problems we face in our current world weren’t solved by these radical innovations. Shortages of every major resource began to spread across every country. Geopolitical alliances were abandoned and small scale conflicts began to emerge as countries tried to scavenge for every last drop of oil and gas. The U.S.A and China emerged as the foremost rivals, each engaging in proxy wars of annexation and conquest against one another.

This would all eventually culminate in the Great War. On October 23rd, 2077, the world was engulfed in a veritable nuclear holocaust. Billions of people died instaneously, entire continents were reduced to a blasted desert and millions more died from radiation, starvation or both. Small pockets of civilization managed to survive in large underground fallout shelters built before the war by Vault-Tec Corporation. These fallout shelters were known as Vaults. The mission of these Vaults were to keep their inhabitants safe from the effects of nuclear radiation and when the surface was deemed safe to live upon, release its inhabitants to colonise and rebuild a new society.

After 200 years, new factions arose out of the ashes. Societies like the New California Republic on the West Coast sought to replicate the structures of pre-war governments whereas other factions like the Brotherhood of Steel or Caesar’s Legion sought to embrace less traditional forms of societal hierachies to seek their own methods of civilizing the wastes. Blood and sweat has been spilt by these factions in the name of reclaiming pre-war technology, territory or simple ideological difference.

Technology isn’t the only difference in the Fallout universe. The effects of radiation are less akin to real life where you suffer horrifying mutations and die from acute radiation poisoning within seconds. Radiation in the Fallout universe is equivalent to magic. The wildlife in the Fallout universe has been horribly mutated beyond belief into freakish montrosities that pose a threat to normal wastelanders. In addition, a new species known as ghouls were born from humans that survived being exposed to large amounts of radiation. These ghouls are seemingly immortal and can heal instantaneously from any injury but have a higher chance of losing their mental faculties as they get older.

TL;DR: Fallout is a kooky, bleak, horrifying, satirical rendition of the post apocalypse. Think every retrofuturistic trope ala Flash Gordon mixed with Mad Max and you’ve got Fallout.




[X] - Ivory Crane, a monstrously huge paper odachi that is said to be crafted from compressed origami sheets. It is relatively lightweight for its enormous size but is considered to be unwieldy in close quarters. It more than makes up for it with a blade that can bisect a Stocker in half with enough force. It has seen battle with the edge have dulled over years of usage. [3]




You remember the time when you first received an Ivory Crane from your parents. These gaijin would never understand the history in its cracked pommel, the scratches on the tip that told of a thousand battles. You draw it out of its enormous scabbard, nearly as tall as you are, before shoving it into the bodyguard’s hands. It’s hard to let go, the comfortable grip parting itself reluctantly from your calloused palms.

“ Be sure to take care of it.” Your voice takes on a warning edge. “ Lose it and your soul will be my refund. ”

“ Yeah, yeah.” The bodyguard points to the waiting line behind you. “ You’re not the only aisler in the Bargain Bin. Let’s skip the bluster and get to the part where you’re here for business?”

“ And remember.” The other gruffly spoke. “ This ain’t the Stationary Department. No laws here, trials by combat, or tradition. All we care about is your price tag and what you’re willing to pay.”

You walk past the both of them and stand atop the elevator. Your blade disappears from sight as you slowly ascend into the upper levels of the Shelf. From the platform, you see poverty stocked on every shelf in all of its forms. Aislers scraping by on expired Kelogg’s corn flakes and old bubblegum boiled in a stew. A table where people gamble over minute amounts of tic tacs over price tag poker. A group of bandits armed with toothpicks confronting a lone beggar. Murder. Violence. Survival. All the most primal aspects of humanity stocked on a shelf.

You arrive on the highest level, the most opulent out of the entire Shelf. Instead of snack wrapper tents, these aislers could afford to shelter in the rare cereal boxes. You spot one distinct in the crowd, a 20 foot tall box that was labeled with the visage of Tony the Tiger, the muscled tiger god of the Cereai. The art depicted the deity flexing his ginormous striped biceps, veins popping out. The doorway was situated underneath his stretched out legs.

You heard the sound of loud munching as you walked into the dingy cardboard box. The smell of curdled milk was thick in the enclosed space. You spot a stocky man sitting behind one of those old XL Barbie playset tables from the defunct Toys Department. Cut styrofoam pads covered his entire figure like makeshift armor, making a shrill ear-renting squeak everytime he moved in place. Sweat glistened down his shaved head. He’s not used to a climate like the Bargain Bin. No air conditioning meant that the temperature was on the fritz between warm and tepid hot. He didn’t pay much attention to your arrival and was more engrossed in burying his face in the 3 foot long twinkie he has on the table.

Behind him was a mammoth of a man. There was no doubt he could lift you up by the neck and pop your head like a can of soda. A coat of multi-colored feathers covered his entire naked back whilst a paper bag skirt made up his lower extremities. Your only assurance against him was the two-inch paper cuirass that hugged your upper body along with the massive pauldrons on your shoulders. You try not to let the massive industrial stapler gripped in his tattooed arm intimidate you. He leaned his neck down to take a look at you before gently tapping the shoulder of his boss to interrupt him from his meal.

“ Well, well, look who we have here.” The man slid his twinkie to the side. “ You’re late. It’s rude to be late for a meeting.”

“ I was held by the - “ You stop one word short of cursing the Smilers. With the presence of the Smilers here in the Bargain Bin, you didn’t want to take the chance that your client was a Smiler sympathizer. “ commotion.”

“ The Cult of the Smiling One?” The man guffawed. “ Yeah, I can see that. They just came in a few days after the Spring Seasonal. Claimed to be on charity work to help out those who lost their Shelves during the Black Friday. By the time they got rooted here, the Department authorities couldn’t do anything.”

“ But I digress.” The man leaned out to shake your hand. “ Name’s Haagen. Dark and scowling over here is Leash. Now….., do you have it?”

You adjusted the angle of your body slightly to show the boxy package curled under your arm. The man’s eyes twinkled with hunger as you gave him the box, the table curling under the weight.
“ Hmmmm.” His brows were furrowed as he inspected it closely. You could only make out some of his mutterings. “ Never said anything about Wal-Tech. I wouldn’t be concerned if it was Tupperware but biometric locks? “

“ Do you not know what’s inside it?,” you asked Haagen.

“ I get paid not to know just as I’m paying you not to ask.” Once he was done inspecting, he nodded over towards Leach who produced a cooler from behind his back. He opened it and took out a clear bag, dangling from his fingers. “ As agreed upon, your reward.”

Leach lobbed it over to your open hands. It’s cool to the touch, dew coating your fingers. You slowly open the ziplock, revealing to you…….

[X] - A Limited Edition Anniversary 2B Statedler Scrivener. Constructed out of space-age materials, this pencil is said to be able to keep its mono-molecular sharpness forever. Only 50 of these pencils were distributed during the Pre-Fall era and only the head members of the Founding Clans have each of one. The Scrivener is considered by many in the Wal to be a holy artifact and in the Stationary Shogunate, you will garner respect amongst your fellow samurai for having acquired such an artifact. Be careful not to lose this.

[X] - A premium Wal-Pachinko lottery card. Many an aisler died attempting to get their hands on a lottery card and fewer have found a usable Wal-Pachinko machine. If you could find a working Wal-Pachinko machine, you would receive treasures that the Tronic Temple would gleefully sell entire tracts of their Department to buy.

[X] - A finger of the Great Sam. Well, supposedly the Great Finger of the Sam. The bone has been separated at the third digit and it shines with an unusual yellow glow. Well, supposedly the Great Finger of the Sam. Your client claims it was in the contract. Maybe, it’s a scam. Or perhaps, it isn’t. Do you want to take the risk?
Next post will be coming out tomorrow. Nearly halfway done. I would recommend anyone else lurking the thread to vote more for the incoming post so that there can be more chaos injected into the democracy of this thread.
12 more hours until voting closes. Try and vote! It only takes five minutes of your time.
Third post has begun. Same protocol as the others.
[X] - An origami pinwheel flower - [3]

[X] - Politely refuse the gift. - [3]

[X] - Accept the gift - [2]

[X] - A splintered shield lanced through by two color pencils in a criss cross [1]

[X] - Smears of bright cherry pink awkwardly shaped into a smiley face [1]




Bloody zealots. Years of hard coded samurai conditioning that scream at you to cut the raider down are kept at bay by your senses. You remember the fire again, only this time, with the flag of the Smilers flapping overhead, a crescent black grin scrawled from burnt Play Doh over a jaundiced face. The way they tortured and killed your fellow Samurai in your clan without honour…….

You snort at the religious article with contempt and then, at the boy with pity. He was fresh stocked, an aisler who shouldn’t have been concerned about the concept of their own expiration date much less involved in religious cults. You hold the sympathy boiling in your heart and crush it underneath the cold hammer of reason. As much as you despised the Smilers, you didn’t want to anger them unnecessarily.

“ My apologies, but I was raised a Brandist, not as one of your flock.” You half-lied. “ Perhaps, your gift would be better served in the hands of someone more worthy than me.”

You didn’t get any reply. Instead, the boy's eyes shone with an eerie glint of rage, glowering at you in silence. He somehow stared straight into your pupils, even though they were hidden underneath the bulky rim of your helm. His stilted expression then morphed back into a cheery smile. “ Oh, no worries, good sir. You’ll accept his touch one day.” His voice lowered down an octave, taking on a sinister air. “ They all do.”

He then looked back at the priest who said something that made the crowd whisper in excitement. The boy gasped. “ Prayer’s about to begin!” He then bowed towards you. “ May low prices bless your future, good sir!”

Before you could say a goodbye, the young cultist disappeared into the crowd which began the process of singing a hymn. Well, that was strange. As you walk away, the singing became frenzied chanting, transforming into a cacophony of deranged shrieking and screaming, with the same three words uttered out loud.

“ ALWAYS LOW PRICES! ALWAYS LOW PRICES! ALWAYS LOW PRICES! ”




You arrive at the Upper Shelves. Located at the north of the Bargain Bin, they stood high above the rickety shacks and hovels that everyone made for themselves. Only a few powerful individuals could afford to live on an abandoned Shelf. You were about to find out what type of player your client was.

You stared up at the Shelf as you stood at one of its four barrel sized pillars. It was raised sky high, just stopping halfway near the Roof of the Wal’s superstructure. Ropes or makeshift ladders were usually used by most lesser Departments to navigate a Shelf but this Shelf instead used a flattened cardboard pallet that was connected by gummy worms to a pulley system. As you waited in line, the platform jerkily shifted up as shopping cart sized rats provided the force to lift it, egged on by armored guards wielding whips made from fishing hooks.

“ Stop.” One of the guards says as you approach. “ You are required to hand over your weapon to us.”

“ Like I would want your filthy hands to desecrate my blessed weapon.” You take a step back. “ You push me too far, swine.”

The guards proceed to part their coats and your eyes widen. Overcharged maglites from the Tronic Temple. One flick of the switch and not all the origami in the world could save your flesh from being char broiled.

Sighing, you glumly take off your prized weapon, the one that has served you well throughout the horrors of the Wal and surrender it to the guards.

[X] - Ivory Crane, a monstrously huge paper odachi that is said to be crafted from compressed origami sheets. It is relatively lightweight for its enormous size but is considered to be unwieldy in close quarters. It more than makes up for it with a blade that can bisect a Stocker in half with enough force. It has seen battle with the edge have dulled over years of usage.

[X] - A bundle of foiled origami paper that is razor sharp yet fragile at the same time. Your elders refer to this weapon as the Death of a Thousand Folds. You have been trained to fold the material into a variety of thrown implements from kunai, shuriken to paper airplanes to small hand held implements. You now only possess 186 sheafs out of the original thousand originally given to you.

[X] - An oversized ream of gift paper utilised by the Sakura Clan and perhaps, their most unique implement. This paper possesses remarkable tensile strength and you are trained to unfurl it and furl it back during combat, using it as an oversized whip to immobilize opponents. Its true ability lies however in your ability to use it to construct makeshift structures in a matter of seconds. When all else fails though, you can use the Wrap of War as a solid bludgeoning instrument.
TL;DR: This thread.

Voting will close in one hour. Anyone looking to tip the scales should do so now!
299 Posts, 1317 Days and Ive never GMed an RP that got past 3 Pages.

Behold Gods Second Greatest Mistake


Dude, you're responsible for making this goddamn thread that blew past 5 pages in the span of 6 hours to humor this chap.

That's a fucking achievement right there.
You must first recognise that play by post roleplaying on a forum such as this and many others such as RPNation and Iwaku are inherently mercurial and chaotic in nature. Posters are not electronic robots that you encounter on the wild wastes of the internet. They are people. We have made this grave for ourselves whereby we value some abstract concept of literary quality as the marker of a good RP. There are multiple factors that make a good RP and focusing inherently on one single factor does nothing good for you.

Blaming them for the failure of your RP is about as useful as blaming water for being wet. It’s redundant at best.

Ultimately, I would encourage everyone that the best way to get more out of this hobby is to learn and adapt. Staying stagnant with one single routine and one single fandom and trying to get people to fit within a mold that you have crafted isn’t the best approach. Join other RPs. Learn from other successful posters. Try to have fun. Learn from your failures. Failure is a teacher whose lessons are not always obvious at first but it’s up to you whether or not to take those lessons to heart.
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