Cairo
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@YungTweak Bookworm is awesome! A very dark and honest look at the realities of the setting, and very well done overall. Accepted!
Name: Charlie Cote
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Appearance:
)
History:
Charlie was born in a rural area of Ontario, Canada, the second of five children. His family was never rich, but they didn’t struggle financially - even so, there was never much question of what Charlie and his two brothers would do with their lives. They were born in a lumber town, and theirs was a lumber family, and while modern lumberjacking involved a lot less being burly and swinging a heavy axe around, it was still the family calling. Charlie and his brothers worked with their father from the moment they graduated senior high, never traveling far from home, never too concerned with the affairs of the world. It was a stark life, but a decent one, but deep down he wondered if this was all his life would ever be.
Unfortunately for the human race, it wasn’t. Charlie’s first encounter with the End War was seeing an arrow dart out of the darkness and impale his father by the throat moments before Fey began leaping out of the woods and cutting the entire lumber camp to bloody ribbons. Charlie and his brothers fought their way home, bundled their mother and younger sister into the truck, and drove to the nearest place they thought they could be safe from whatever was going on: Toronto.
Of course, when they arrived, all that awaited them was more madness and death, but not at the hands of the fey, elven monsters they had encountered – the population of the city was being systematically butchered by a horde of massive blue-skinned barbarians, like something out of a Norse myth. The Cote family ended up holed up in Fort York with a hundred other refugees, and the Siege of Toronto began. It was one of the greatest battles the world would never know about – for five days, a hundred refugees held out against a force of over four hundred Frost Giants, and felled at least half their number before they were wiped out. Charlie was the last survivor.
Since then, Charlie has traveled alone, staying away from population centers, helping others where he could but mostly keeping to himself. He’s journeying ever further south, trying to make it to Washington D.C, where the stories say the first of the artifacts can be found.
Personality:
Charlie is almost a Canadian stereotype. He’s jovial, good-natured, polite, and always ready to laugh or smile, even in the grimmest times. He loves people, but he’s quite accustomed to long periods of isolation. He’ll never hesitate to lend a helping hand to someone in need, which tends to result in his being very bad at making decisions ‘for the greater good’. Those who pay attention to the things he says may note that he seems to be undergoing a kind of denial, speaking of dead people in the present tense and referring to the things he’ll do ‘when we win’. As a corollary, he’s completely convinced by the story of the Prophets; he believes wholeheartedly that the world can and will be put right. He has no sympathy for monsters, however; though he approaches fighting them with the same lackadaisical attitude he applies to everything else, he will never hesitate to kill, either in self defense, to complete an objective, or just because he could.
Skills and Weaknesses:
Strength – Charlie is in excellent shape, and has a great deal of muscle and brute strength. He can be relied upon to do most of the heavy lifting.
Melee combat – Since the End War started, he’s had a lot of practice chopping up monsters with that axe. He can’t go blow for blow with an elf lord or parry a frost giant’s club, but he’s fast on his feet, hits hard, and knows how to strike where it hurts.
Woodsmanship – Family camping and hunting trips have made Charlie an excellent woodsman. He can build a fire, pitch a tent, track an animal, or camouflage himself decently in the woods. Too bad going in the woods is a terrible, terrible idea.
Improvisation – Charlie has a knack for figuring out ways to use objects to hand in unexpected ways, mostly to kill things; some might say it’s because he’s too dumb to know why it shouldn’t work, but he’s not complaining.
Slow – Charlie has a high school level education, and even still he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed. He doesn’t always think things through, and his scientific, historic and mythological knowledge is basically nonexistent, save what he’s gotten from movies and such.
Marksmanship – Despite his father’s best efforts to teach him to use a hunting rifle, Charlie is a terrible, terrible shot, being very literally unable to hit a charging shoggoth at thirty meters.
Belongings: Tent, sleeping bag, five days worth of dried food, canteen full of water, flint and steel, rope, a few climbing spikes, binoculars, and his massive lumberjacking axe.
Color Code: 00aeef
Other stuff: Nothing. Yet!
Sample Post: Charlie rubbed his hands together in front of his face, his breath steaming the frigid morning air. It wasn’t supposed to be this cold in the summer, but the temperature had continued to drop since the giants came.
There was another thud at the brick wall in front of them, followed by the sound of snow sliding from the roof. Someone in the room let out a squeak. Gathered around him in this tiny warehouse were the last of Toronto’s defenders – five days ago, they had been over a hundred. Now they were twenty. Twenty warriors. Four days ago, they had lost the outer wall of the fort. Yesterday, they’d lost the inner one. This was the last safe place left, and the giants were at the door.
A hand clapped onto his back, and Charlie flinched. He turned to meet the cool gaze of his brother Jack, bundled up to keep the cold out, still clutching his climber’s pickaxe. “Eyes up, brother.” Jack said, and gave him a smile. They were all each other had left – their father had died as soon as all this madness had started, their mother and brother killed by frost giants, as had their younger sister Kari – but not before she’d begun telling some kind of story about the ‘End War’, and of a way all this could be fixed.
“Stay close together, everyone,” Anders, the de facto leader of the defenders, said, uncoiling a length of rope from his belt. “We’re gonna make these bastards pay for every drop of blood they spill.” Charlie opened his mouth. He wanted to make one last joke, say one last thing to his brother and to the men and women who’d become his comrades, make them laugh one more time before the end. But he was interrupted by the sound of crumbling masonry as a massive steel boot stove in the wall. Outside, the giants roared the great war chant that Charlie had long since become familiar with.
With a collective shout of their own, the defenders charged, advancing out through the wrecked wall to meet their attackers head-on. “Cote, catch!” Charlie heard Anders shout as a length of rope came flying at him. He caught it without breaking stride, and together, he and Anders pulled it taught as they ran on separate sides of the giant that had broken the wall, tripping him up and sending him tumbling to the ground with a surprised roar, where Nina scurried over and stabbed him in the eye with her carving knife.
Though the smallest frost giant was twice the size of a human being and three times as strong, they paid for that strength with speed. Charlie dropped the rope and ducked out of the way as another giant advanced with an overhead swing, bringing his axe up to chop into the back of the giant’s fur-armored knee, hot blood spraying out into the frigid air. With a cry, the monster fell into a lunge, lowering its head just enough for Jack to grab onto it’s armor and begin to climb up it. Charlie chopped again, sawing at it’s thigh like it was a tree trunk, while his brother reached the top of the monster’s head and drove his pickaxe into its spine. A few feet away, Karl and Sam were taking on three of the giants between the two of them, ducking and dodging and scoring hits where they could with their makeshift spears. Anna was blasting away at the oncoming horde with her last machine gun, at least until an icicle took her in the chest. Behind him, Charlie heard the roar and felt the rush of heat that signaled that someone had lit their last Molotov.
They fought bravely, they fought well, they fought for what seemed like a hundred years, but they all knew they were delaying the inevitable. Charlie was panting, his face covered in blood, his axe gripped in white knuckles, searching for his next target, when the familiar hand grabbed him by the shoulder. “Charlie,” Jack shouted in his ear, “You need to go.”
“What? No,” Charlie turned, furrowing his brow as he took in the sight of his brother, bleeding from a massive gash in his side, frostbite spreading through his arm. Dimly, he was aware of the giants cutting through the last of his comrades, advancing on them like an avalanche. “No, I’m gonna stay with you.”
“We’re finished, Charlie,” Jack gasped, “But you don’t have to be. You can head south… find that thing Kari was talking about. Fix all this…”
“No. No, not without you…” But Jack did not wait to hear his argument. Instead, he roared like one of the massive berserkers he was facing, charging ahead to engage the closest giant in hand to hand, his pickaxe long since lost. He had no chance, but Charlie recognized the deed, had seen it many times in the last few days – his brother was buying him time.
His feet guided by some unfamiliar force, Charlie turned and ran, slipping away from the battlefield, out of the fort, and into the cold, lonely winter beyond.
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Appearance:
History:
Charlie was born in a rural area of Ontario, Canada, the second of five children. His family was never rich, but they didn’t struggle financially - even so, there was never much question of what Charlie and his two brothers would do with their lives. They were born in a lumber town, and theirs was a lumber family, and while modern lumberjacking involved a lot less being burly and swinging a heavy axe around, it was still the family calling. Charlie and his brothers worked with their father from the moment they graduated senior high, never traveling far from home, never too concerned with the affairs of the world. It was a stark life, but a decent one, but deep down he wondered if this was all his life would ever be.
Unfortunately for the human race, it wasn’t. Charlie’s first encounter with the End War was seeing an arrow dart out of the darkness and impale his father by the throat moments before Fey began leaping out of the woods and cutting the entire lumber camp to bloody ribbons. Charlie and his brothers fought their way home, bundled their mother and younger sister into the truck, and drove to the nearest place they thought they could be safe from whatever was going on: Toronto.
Of course, when they arrived, all that awaited them was more madness and death, but not at the hands of the fey, elven monsters they had encountered – the population of the city was being systematically butchered by a horde of massive blue-skinned barbarians, like something out of a Norse myth. The Cote family ended up holed up in Fort York with a hundred other refugees, and the Siege of Toronto began. It was one of the greatest battles the world would never know about – for five days, a hundred refugees held out against a force of over four hundred Frost Giants, and felled at least half their number before they were wiped out. Charlie was the last survivor.
Since then, Charlie has traveled alone, staying away from population centers, helping others where he could but mostly keeping to himself. He’s journeying ever further south, trying to make it to Washington D.C, where the stories say the first of the artifacts can be found.
Personality:
Charlie is almost a Canadian stereotype. He’s jovial, good-natured, polite, and always ready to laugh or smile, even in the grimmest times. He loves people, but he’s quite accustomed to long periods of isolation. He’ll never hesitate to lend a helping hand to someone in need, which tends to result in his being very bad at making decisions ‘for the greater good’. Those who pay attention to the things he says may note that he seems to be undergoing a kind of denial, speaking of dead people in the present tense and referring to the things he’ll do ‘when we win’. As a corollary, he’s completely convinced by the story of the Prophets; he believes wholeheartedly that the world can and will be put right. He has no sympathy for monsters, however; though he approaches fighting them with the same lackadaisical attitude he applies to everything else, he will never hesitate to kill, either in self defense, to complete an objective, or just because he could.
Skills and Weaknesses:
Strength – Charlie is in excellent shape, and has a great deal of muscle and brute strength. He can be relied upon to do most of the heavy lifting.
Melee combat – Since the End War started, he’s had a lot of practice chopping up monsters with that axe. He can’t go blow for blow with an elf lord or parry a frost giant’s club, but he’s fast on his feet, hits hard, and knows how to strike where it hurts.
Woodsmanship – Family camping and hunting trips have made Charlie an excellent woodsman. He can build a fire, pitch a tent, track an animal, or camouflage himself decently in the woods. Too bad going in the woods is a terrible, terrible idea.
Improvisation – Charlie has a knack for figuring out ways to use objects to hand in unexpected ways, mostly to kill things; some might say it’s because he’s too dumb to know why it shouldn’t work, but he’s not complaining.
Slow – Charlie has a high school level education, and even still he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed. He doesn’t always think things through, and his scientific, historic and mythological knowledge is basically nonexistent, save what he’s gotten from movies and such.
Marksmanship – Despite his father’s best efforts to teach him to use a hunting rifle, Charlie is a terrible, terrible shot, being very literally unable to hit a charging shoggoth at thirty meters.
Belongings: Tent, sleeping bag, five days worth of dried food, canteen full of water, flint and steel, rope, a few climbing spikes, binoculars, and his massive lumberjacking axe.
Color Code: 00aeef
Other stuff: Nothing. Yet!
Sample Post: Charlie rubbed his hands together in front of his face, his breath steaming the frigid morning air. It wasn’t supposed to be this cold in the summer, but the temperature had continued to drop since the giants came.
There was another thud at the brick wall in front of them, followed by the sound of snow sliding from the roof. Someone in the room let out a squeak. Gathered around him in this tiny warehouse were the last of Toronto’s defenders – five days ago, they had been over a hundred. Now they were twenty. Twenty warriors. Four days ago, they had lost the outer wall of the fort. Yesterday, they’d lost the inner one. This was the last safe place left, and the giants were at the door.
A hand clapped onto his back, and Charlie flinched. He turned to meet the cool gaze of his brother Jack, bundled up to keep the cold out, still clutching his climber’s pickaxe. “Eyes up, brother.” Jack said, and gave him a smile. They were all each other had left – their father had died as soon as all this madness had started, their mother and brother killed by frost giants, as had their younger sister Kari – but not before she’d begun telling some kind of story about the ‘End War’, and of a way all this could be fixed.
“Stay close together, everyone,” Anders, the de facto leader of the defenders, said, uncoiling a length of rope from his belt. “We’re gonna make these bastards pay for every drop of blood they spill.” Charlie opened his mouth. He wanted to make one last joke, say one last thing to his brother and to the men and women who’d become his comrades, make them laugh one more time before the end. But he was interrupted by the sound of crumbling masonry as a massive steel boot stove in the wall. Outside, the giants roared the great war chant that Charlie had long since become familiar with.
With a collective shout of their own, the defenders charged, advancing out through the wrecked wall to meet their attackers head-on. “Cote, catch!” Charlie heard Anders shout as a length of rope came flying at him. He caught it without breaking stride, and together, he and Anders pulled it taught as they ran on separate sides of the giant that had broken the wall, tripping him up and sending him tumbling to the ground with a surprised roar, where Nina scurried over and stabbed him in the eye with her carving knife.
Though the smallest frost giant was twice the size of a human being and three times as strong, they paid for that strength with speed. Charlie dropped the rope and ducked out of the way as another giant advanced with an overhead swing, bringing his axe up to chop into the back of the giant’s fur-armored knee, hot blood spraying out into the frigid air. With a cry, the monster fell into a lunge, lowering its head just enough for Jack to grab onto it’s armor and begin to climb up it. Charlie chopped again, sawing at it’s thigh like it was a tree trunk, while his brother reached the top of the monster’s head and drove his pickaxe into its spine. A few feet away, Karl and Sam were taking on three of the giants between the two of them, ducking and dodging and scoring hits where they could with their makeshift spears. Anna was blasting away at the oncoming horde with her last machine gun, at least until an icicle took her in the chest. Behind him, Charlie heard the roar and felt the rush of heat that signaled that someone had lit their last Molotov.
They fought bravely, they fought well, they fought for what seemed like a hundred years, but they all knew they were delaying the inevitable. Charlie was panting, his face covered in blood, his axe gripped in white knuckles, searching for his next target, when the familiar hand grabbed him by the shoulder. “Charlie,” Jack shouted in his ear, “You need to go.”
“What? No,” Charlie turned, furrowing his brow as he took in the sight of his brother, bleeding from a massive gash in his side, frostbite spreading through his arm. Dimly, he was aware of the giants cutting through the last of his comrades, advancing on them like an avalanche. “No, I’m gonna stay with you.”
“We’re finished, Charlie,” Jack gasped, “But you don’t have to be. You can head south… find that thing Kari was talking about. Fix all this…”
“No. No, not without you…” But Jack did not wait to hear his argument. Instead, he roared like one of the massive berserkers he was facing, charging ahead to engage the closest giant in hand to hand, his pickaxe long since lost. He had no chance, but Charlie recognized the deed, had seen it many times in the last few days – his brother was buying him time.
His feet guided by some unfamiliar force, Charlie turned and ran, slipping away from the battlefield, out of the fort, and into the cold, lonely winter beyond.
Reserved.
The Survivor's Club
"Everybody died, and I'm stuck with you assholes."
Yeah, so, the world has ended. You probably realized that by now, yeah? I don’t know if it was the great big ‘boom’ that started it off, or seeing your boyfriend get torn apart by zombies, or watching your grand-pappy get shot to shit by fuckin’ robots with fuckin’ machine guns, or whatever happened to you, but something’s probably tipped you off. Welcome to the End War, baby.
Of course, someone probably could have given us a little advance warning that this was coming, because the other guys? They all seemed pretty goddamn ready. But while they were forging their flaming swords and stretching their tentacles out, we were making TV shows. Which was fun while it lasted, don’t get me wrong, but the number’s pretty much up.
I hope you weren’t hoping the government was gonna bail you out, because the government’s basically gone. Six weeks into the apocalypse, and most of humanity’s already gone and kicked the bucket, left the other guys to savage each other on our turf. That’s just sad, is what that is. But not you and me! We’re survivors, and there’s a lot more of us. Well, maybe not a lot, but there’s enough.
See, I know it may be hard to keep morale up in the face of big ole’ ice giants and dragons and literal no-shit goddamn demons killing everyone you ever knew and bringing human society to its knees in a matter of forty-odd days, but the truth is, it doesn’t have to be over. This is the End War, and wars can have a winner. I guy I met in Wichita, he told me the whole story. He met this guy, who met this guy, who says he knows a way to fix things, set everything back to the way it was right when it all went shit-up. This whole End War deal, it’s a scavenger hunt, right? But with murder. All these guys that came to our world, all the angels and elves and tentacley shits, they’re all like kids on Easter looking for the nine painted eggs, only in this case the kids are armies from other dimensions and the eggs are ancient relics corresponding to each of the dimensions, because of course they are. Anyway, whoever finds all of them first wins and gets to be Top Dimension, right? And if we win, we get the world back, just the way it used to be.
Even better, we have a lead. This guy said he knew where they all were, and it was like he’d always known, like he just had to remember. Of course, last anyone saw him, he was being used as tooth floss by a werewolf, but no worries, he wrote all the stuff down first, and I have a copy. I’ll give you one, too, and you can pass it on. Even better, rumor is it wasn’t just the one guy – there are a lot of folks, saying the exact same thing. I know it sounds crazy, and it’s not a lot to go on, but isn’t it better to hope?
Anyway, I’d best be going – some dead shit took a chunk out of me a day ago, and I don’t know how long I’ve got. Look after yourself, you hear? Humans are an endangered species, so we’ve got to stick together. Stay safe. Travel in daylight. Don’t go in the woods. If you see an S spray-painted on the wall, that means safe. If you see an X, that means the opposite.
God save the Survivor’s Club. I think we can win this.
INTRODUCTION
“Yeah, we’re all gonna die.”
Welcome to The Survivor’s Club, an Apocalyptic Roleplay about surviving the End War. To summarize what you just read, the end of the world has come – on May 16th, 2018, at approximately 11:00 AM, hell broke loose across the globe as eight armies of extra-dimensional entities clawed their way into earth and began doing battle in the streets, wiping out any humans they came across as a bonus. Within two weeks, the governments of the world had fallen; within three, the last pockets of organized resistance had been crushed.
In the eastern United States, where the RP will begin, the few humans left have congregated into a loose organization known as the Survivor’s Club, a network of warriors and survivalists that communicate through graffiti signs and campfire-lit meetings, sharing knowledge, weapons, and resources, staying under the radar by avoiding traveling in large groups. It’s a grim situation, but hope springs eternal – tales of the people known as Prophets have spread among the club, telling of a way the apocalypse can be reversed. Nobody knows what makes a person a Prophet, save the fact that as soon as the apocalypse began, every single one of them had knowledge burst into their skull – that what was happening might have been the End War but was really just a scavenger hunt, that each one of the eight armies was looking for the same nine relics scattered across the globe, and that humanity had not just a stake but an edge; the Prophets knew where they were. If all nine are assembled, then the apocalypse can be reversed and all the dead restored to life – not all the survivors believe it, but very few have anything better to do.
It’s forty-five days after the End War began, and the race, as they say, is on.
INFORMATION
“AKA: How to get monsters dead before they get you dead!”
The Survivor’s Club will be a high casual, action and character focused RP about an adventure through the end of the world. Expect ludicrous action setpieces in the vein of staking vampires with nail-guns, force-feeding a dragon dynamite or driving a truck into Cthulhu’s big fat face, a road-trip story filled with drama and exciting apocalyptic vistas to discover, a few mysteries and ancient ruins to delve into when it comes to actually getting the relics, and hopefully a good deal of character interaction and development, since isn’t that really the core of RP? The tone is dark, yes, and mature themes such as the destruction of human society and the violent death of almost everyone will certainly come up, but there will also be (if you couldn’t tell) a healthy amount of black comedy and action; a major theme of the RP is that, however bad things seem, there is hope, and that ordinary people can do extraordinary things when pushed to their limits.
Again, writing style will be high-casual, with an emphasis on fairly frequent but short posts of a reasonably high quality. I’ll be capping it at 4-5 players, plus myself; I’m also looking for a CO-GM, if anyone wants to offer, but in any case I intend to take a lot of player feedback in the story anyway and hopefully have a very fun, interesting, collaborative experience. Below is a hider containing information about the eight armies that have invaded – hopefully it’s enough to give you a feel for each of them.
RULES
“Travel in daylight. Stick together. No groups of more than seven. Stay away from the water. Don’t go in the woods. Always post a lookout. Keep a weapon handy.”
1. All standard guild rules apply. No god-moding, flaming, bigotry, general unpleasantness. Romance, as ever, is fine, but if it goes beyond fade to black, take it to PMS.
2. Really, just don’t be a jerk.
3. If you have an idea for something that could happen, either in the story or for your character, let me know, I’m always open to ideas! Furthermore, if you have an idea for an awesome way your character could take out a big baddie, but are worried it would be god-moding, PM me and we can see if we can work something out.
4. Posting schedule should hopefully be once a week. If you’re not gonna be able to make that, that’s fine, just let us know in advance.
5. Characters can die (it’s a dangerous life, after all), but I don’t like to run a super high mortality game; I won’t kill off your character with no warning or anything like that, and any deaths that happen will hopefully be big, satisfying narrative moments for us all. Re-rolling is encouraged in the event of character death!
6. In general, you can feel free to Worldbuild as you see fit – if you want part of your character’s backstory to be that they’re the last survivor of the Siege of Toronto, where a hundred humans held out for days against a horde of frost giants, that’s awesome, do it! Just make sure it doesn’t directly contradict the canon.
7. You can play a Prophet, if you want.
8. At the beginning, I ask that all the characters be basically human in their capabilities – no sci-fi- tech or magic powers. As things proceed, options will be made available for characters to advance in a more supernatural direction if they want, so hold onto those ideas!
9. Post your CS applications in the OOC, or PM them to me. Don't post them in the characters tab until approved.
10. Have fun!
Well, that’s all I have. I hope you’ll join me for this crazy ride!
Interested.
Glad to see the interest! Please refer to the information I posted in the other interest check for this RP, here.
Glad to see the interest! I've thrown up a CS template in the OP, as well as a brief summary on the invaders - the OOC will hopefully go up this weekend, and it'll have more detail (with pictures), but that should be basically enough information for the purpose of CS making.
As ever, if you have any questions (or want to throw your hat in as Co-GM), let me know!
As ever, if you have any questions (or want to throw your hat in as Co-GM), let me know!
@Orixi The game is going to begin in the ruins of Washington DC, which is a battleground between all eight of the invading armies and one of the supposed locations of the artifacts (which means that survivors are pretty much drawn there), but the story will involve a lot of traveling. PCs will be able to die, though I tend not to run super-high mortality games since it's never much fun when a person's character goes out like a chump; that said, the world is bananas dangerous for a member of the Club, as you've picked up on, so I wouldn't be surprised if there were a few (righteously awesome) character deaths and rerolls. The story is set in modern day, summer of 2018, so yeah, mostly modern technology, though The Angels and The Metal have some sci-fi elements.
@Pupperr Correct! Since I tend to figure High Casual is halfway between advanced and casual, I figured I'd put it in both, to cast as wide a net as possible for interest.
@Pupperr Correct! Since I tend to figure High Casual is halfway between advanced and casual, I figured I'd put it in both, to cast as wide a net as possible for interest.
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