Bork

Bork Lazer's Storage Bunker

_{/\/ Whimsical Ventures of Fantastical Retrofuturism /\/}

18th of Uulu Ut, 3 A.R (After Reseph)

Dreams are the poems of the mute, the paintings of the blind and the music of the deaf. It is a master of your body but a prisoner to your unconscious whims. This time, though, you are falling. Endlessly towards a dodecahedron in the void. It whispers to you in seductive equations, to subsume into code and become one with it. Like the crowing of a dawnwing, Qud’s discordant melodies rouse you from your peaceful chrysalis of slumber.

You awake in one of the sandstone abodes of Hasgahem, a village situated on the canyon springs. Fishing lines dip inside scillintating mineral pools, eddies of azure gas swirling in their depths. Thatches of gnarled dogthorns provide plentiful shade from the sweltering sun.

As you recollect your memories like the fragmented remains of a jigsaw, you piece together the present. A trio of dromads, members of the expedition you were hired for, debate over the intricacies of wine trading in the wake of a cooling fireplace. Around you are meandering slopes of salt-encrusted rust, red rims etched down into bands of baked sediment. Further out, you take note of the distant surroundings.

To the west lies the eternal expanse of Moghra’Yi, the Great Salt Desert. The alien Spindle erupts in the northeast and cuts through the heavenly firmaments of Qud’s dappled sky. Qud’s jungles swarm the southeastern landscape over fossilized silver ruins of yore. The Chrome Ruins preside over the east and beyond that, violet clouds thunder ominously over the radioactive Deathlands.

Your stomach rumbles. A shrill series of barks alerts you to atention. Alu, the raccoon leader of the expeidtion, invites you over to join the caravan in morning repast. Your appetite cannot deny his request as you walk over to them and listen in on the discussion. Whilst they argue, you peruse the texts that lay on the thatched brinewood table to refresh your memory of the land.

Whilst you have successfully arrived at Qud, your journey in this fabled land hasn’t ended. It has merely begun.

Live and drink, wayfarer.

---

Karsts is a linear science fantasy roleplay with elements of open-world sandboxing based on the fictional setting portrayed in the indie roguelike, Caves of Qud. Set in a distant post-apocalyptic future where the epoch of humanity has passed into mere myth; mutants, genetic deviants and extra-planetary beings pick over what remains of godlike civilizations shrouded by millenia of refuse. Multiple disasters, minor and world-shattering, over the aeons have driven the world into a quasi-medieval state where forgotten technology is slowly being rediscovered and repurposed.Those unmutated survive in self-sustaining Eco-Domes, independent arcologies built from forgotten technology. Right now, society is in a precarious state of teetering between extinction and renaissance and no one knows which way the balance will tip.

One of the most prominent regions in this world is called Qud. Every wayfarer has their own words for how to describe Qud. Dangerous. Alluring. Bountiful. Beautiful. Horrifying. Captivating. It’s majesty knows no bounds yet chance is a cruel mistress here as one second of carelessness could lead to your death. It's ruins are the stuff of legend, attracting adventurers like a glowmoth towards a candle. You find yourself here after becoming a member of a dromad funded archeological excursion, whether on purpose or by mistake. The reward was one part of your reason for joining but moreover was the mystery of Qud itself.

Don't fool yourself. You're no savior. You're no hero. You are not a legend. Well, not yet. Perhaps, you could become one.

In summary, think of this setting as the crazed lovechild of Gamma World and Dune who simultaneously had an affair with Adventure Time. It is a land of a thousand tales, stories of transhumanist philosophy, sentient agriculture, extraterrestrial archeology, political diplomacy, cuisine escapades, sapphic romance and cave spelunking. It’s experimental. It’s idiosyncratic. It draws from many places but creates its own path.

In terms of the genre, as implied in the subtitle as well as in the prior paragraphs above, this will be science fiction with a twist of pulp fantasy and a dash of classic action-adventure Indiana Jones thriller sensibilities.

If you’re still interested in joining this RP, please read on down below.

Map

Player Guidelines and Rules

- Have fun.

- Treat others with respect as how you would want to be treated yourself, unless you have a massive inferiority complex, which in that case, don’t. This is a RP where outside of IC, we provide a friendly environment where players are free to engage and discuss with one another without fear of being drawn into toxicity. If anyone is acting in a manner that is disrupting the RP and causing other players to be uncomfortable, you will be ex-communicated to another dimension.

- Be fun and be open to worldbuilding. Forging your own headcanon, creating your own factions or suggesting ideas is wholeheartedly encouraged. A key part of Qud is that it is a land of mystery where not even its most distinguished scholars have documented all of the world’s enigmas. Qud is vast and mysterious enough that reasonably any suggestion or theory could fit inside its vast smorgasbord of deliciousness. However, consult with the GM before suggesting or integrating lore within IC that provides systemic changes to the world itself.

- Standard conventions of roleplaying apply which means no metagaming, godmodding, munchkining, 4th wall breaking or inclusion of 18+ content that would violate RPG’s TOS in your IC posts. Note that mature themes do not mean writing graphic erotica.

- Think fun. When creating your character, your character shouldn’t be your standard fantasy hero or adventurer who is seemingly an expert in every field possible with some arbitrary weakness. I want real, fleshed out characters that have lived a life in this world and treat what would be strange to us as mundane. I want dynamicity. I want depth. I want so much depth that I could dig through your character’s backstory and find myself in China.

- Cooperation and communication are essential in this roleplay. Collaborative posting, although not essential, is allowed and encouraged if you are willing to do so. I will not force players to engage in collabs at any time during this RP.

- Know how to have fun with your post lengths. The writing I expect from players is quality over quantity with adherence to efficiency. I do not care how many words you write, although, this does not mean you can write one sentence and expect to get away with it. The minimum is one paragraph but I expect any player who joins this RP will know what expectations to set for themselves.

- There is no such thing as a posting schedule. That being said, players are expected to communicate frequently to the GM and other players if they are unavailable or have lost interest in this RP. Failure to do so after two weeks will result in the player being exiled to a chromatic plane of existence.

- Worship fun and feel free to sacrifice your character to maintain your personal autonomy of free time whenever you feel like it. You have no obligation to remain a member of this RP and you can freely request for your character to be shelved at any time. Do note that you can only make one character for this RP.

- You must accept the fact that I will be unfair to you whenever possible and that durian is the superior fruit to all other fruits in existence.

---

Wal Quest - Interactive Post Apocalyptic Quest

[X] - Defend your martial honor like a samurai truly would. Although you may be without your weapon, you can still use something from the surrounding Shelf to help you survive. Cut through these Smiler dogs and spill their blood in the name of the Clan you fought for. [1]

---

Retreat? You purge that traitorous thoughts from your head. Run away like a dishonourable, inkless coward?

You stood strong when a platoon of milkmen from the Dairy aisle assaulted your column at the northern freezers.

You stood unflinchingly as the Cult of the Smiling One unleashed the horrors of Security on you, charging on pidgeonback with lance in hand towards the shelf-tall robotic manservant.

You stood bleeding, protecting the glue farmers of Uhu, as several children huddled behind you in a pipeline, the tattered remains of your thousand folded katana in your hands against a horde of Smilers.

You will not fold now or in the foreseeable future. The first of the cultists comes towards you, a heavyset man with thick jowls who wears a headband crafted from measuring tape on his bald scalp. Your face wrinkles in disgust as you notice a dozen bad habits immediately. He grips his three-foot long spoon too loosely. His breathing is irregular. His back is bent too low. He never had the fortune to go through the martial regimen that the Stationary Shogunate provided to you.

“ ALWAYS LOW - urk!” His scream is cut short as your fist connects with the Adam's apple of his throat, stopping the deranged cultist dead in his tracks. You then rip the weapon from his dazed hands and take a moment to examine it. It’s not a spoon.

It’s a spork. Even better.

In one swift movement, you bring it overhead and then, down upon him, splattering his skull all over the shelf top, Specks of blood shower over your pristine paper armor like red paint over a clear canvas. The rest arrive, 20 in total, and look at you, unsure of whether or not to attack. You take a look behind. Haagen and Leash are taking care of a dozen Smilers on the other side of the Shelf. Haagen gives a personal demonstration to the Smilers that a ice cream scoop is sharper than it looks whilst Leash is busily turning them into dead meat as you hear the dull thwacks of staples entering their bodies.

A cry breaks the silence.

“ KILL THE SAMURAI!”

“ Steel bends and paper tears, only honour is eternal!” You reply in return, leaping into the horde of Smilers and begin a dance that you stepped thousands of times before in practice and in the fires of sport. Limbs fly as you swing the stainless steel in your hands into the thick of it, smashing bone with the flat of it and spearing through flesh with its three prongs. It is a thin line between bloodlust and discipline that you engage in, swinging your spork with mania and precision. One Smiler gets the bright idea to attack you from behind, failing as you shove the handle into her gut before silencing her heaving form with an underhand slash that spills her brains out.

“ Hold.”

The remaining Smilers stop attacking at the sound of the word.

Your muscles ache with the familiar twinge of fatigue. You haven’t gone this hard since Black Friday. Both Haagen and Leash have been subdued whilst you were battling, dozens of hands gripping their bodies. Haagen, in a fit of desperation, kicks the package you delivered towards you. You grab it and level out your spork towards the crowd. They hiss in response, surrounding you in a circle that grows ever smaller by the moment.

The crowd parts and rumbles as the same priest who spoke at the entrance of the Bargain Bin looks at you, not with geniality, but with a cold smile.

“ All this blood shed…….. What a waste. A shame that you are not on our side. I understand your hatred towards us, samurai.” He lisps over the first syllable breathlessly, as if uttering it gave him bliss. “ Out of respect for your loss in the last Black Friday, I will allow you to leave this Shelf with your head intact.”

You keep your guard up, shifting your body so that the package is guarded behind you. The priest notices, raising an eyebrow.

“ I see...." He then looks at Haagen with a sneer of contempt. " What did he give you to ferry it all the way here? I doesn't matter. You may think you know what you have in your possession but you have no idea what value it holds to me. Name your price, samurai. You fight for an ice cream smuggler and a feral beast. I suggest a person who values honour such as you should leave….and forget the past history between your department and our brotherhood. ”

“ Don’t listen to this gluten free coward!” Haagen yells madly at you. “ Protect it and I will pay you back a thousandfold!"

[X] - Give the package over to the priest. After all, how much can one package be worth?

[X] - Deny it from the priest. Whatever is inside the package, you can't guarantee that the Cult of the Smiling One won't turn it upon the Stationary Shogunate. They are still the same ones who led a crusade that razed dozens of departments during the Black Friday.

[X] - Destroy it so that no one can have it. If it's so much trouble to the both of them, you might as well cut the common factor out of the equation.

Wal Quest - Interactive Post Apocalyptic Quest

[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. [2]

[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. [1]

---

You grab the instrument gently by its shaft, the metallic sheen of the golden paint glowing like sunlight. It’s light but your hand trembles as if you are holding a shake-weight. It feels unworthy. Holding a sacred artifact of your department in your hands, you can’t imagine anything else that would atone for your crimes to the clan than this pencil.

“ Thank you, Haagen,” You bow courteously. “ You have honoured your side of the deal. I will not forget this. ”

“ Whaddya expect? This is the Bargain Bin. Everyone expects a fair exchange in this department.” He mutters errantly, more focused on the package than you. “ ‘Besides, I’m not that type of person. I may be engaged in a little bit of shoplifting but then, again, who doesn’t?”

You snort. Of course, everyone knew the truth of the Wal. Everyone was a shoplifter under the gaze of the automatons that lorded over their very lives and no one was a customer. No matter how well you tried to conduct yourselves, Security would always identify you as a worthless shoplifter. Then again, there were plenty of Departments and lesser factions that tried to convince themselves otherwise. Your mind wandered to the loud chanting of the Smilers as you tuck the Scrivener gently inside your belt.

“ I could think of some,”you said “ Nevertheless, the Sakura Clan is in your debt. If you ever need a -”

The floor beneath you begins to shake, making your feet stumble as you trip on non-existent ground. Poison comes to your mind at first but that thought soon disappears as you see the other occupants of the cereal box are swaying as well. This wasn’t a hallucination. Leash grabs you by the neck, stopping you from having a personal meeting with the cardboard floor. The shaking then stops. Haagen, however, is worse for wear, groggily clambering back up after falling down on his bum.

“ Samurai, was this you?!” Haagen points at you accusingly. “ Did your clan come down here for Sport?”
“ No.” Leash sniffs the air like a hound, taking long draughts of the tepid air. “ Different smell. More clean. More plastic.”

Haagen’s face then pales, white with fear. “ No, it can’t be…..” He dislodges an ice cream scoop stuck on his table before running outside with Leash. You follow them both. Outside is an inferno. So much so that the smoke makes your eyes water. The lower levels of the Shelf are burning and waiting at ground level is a horde large enough to take over an entire Department. Thousands of flaming match-sticks held by the same maniacs you encountered earlier in the Bargain Bin.

“ FOR SMILEY.” One of them at the front shouts. “ FOR THE GREAT SAM. PURGE ALL OF THESE SHOPLIFTERS, MY FELLOW SHOPPERS!”

You swear if you make it out of this alive to kill any Smiler you meet ever again. Just out of caution.

“ Useless knock-offs.” Haagen curses. “ All that Rocky Road I bribed them was all for nothing.”

“ Alwaaayss Low Prices!” The first of the horde haul themselves on top of the Shelf and begin running in a loose formation towards you, shrieking prayers to Smiley himself with outstretched rictus grins.

How do you respond?

[X] - Escape the Shelf and live to fight another day. Some of your kin may call this dishonourable but you see it as a matter of common sense. After all, you do not answer to these inkless brigands.

[X] - Defend your martial honor like a samurai truly would. Although you may be without your weapon, you can still use something from the surrounding Shelf to help you survive. Cut through these Smiler dogs and spill their blood in the name of the Clan you fought for.

Wal Quest - Interactive Post Apocalyptic Quest

Only 6 hours remain until voting closes. Remember that your vote counts!

Bork Lazer's Storage Bunker

---

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.

---

Wal Quest - Interactive Post Apocalyptic Quest

[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?

Wal Quest - Interactive Post Apocalyptic Quest

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.

Wal Quest - Interactive Post Apocalyptic Quest

12 more hours until voting closes. Try and vote! It only takes five minutes of your time.

Wal Quest - Interactive Post Apocalyptic Quest

Third post has begun. Same protocol as the others.

Wal Quest - Interactive Post Apocalyptic Quest

[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! ”

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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.