Dinh AaronMk

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

TheEvanCat said
Aren't the Eye-Ties crazy and jumbled with Spain and those Romans and shit? I advise you to consult with Googs.

The Italians are still in the Spanish pocket but we threw out the Roman cosplay.

The Gods are Crazy

post demmit

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

South of Kalachinsk, Russia

The road turned rocky and broken as the tank groaned on. Fallen trees lay tumbled like match-sticks. Abandoned vehicles lay off the side of the road, turn over or simply left behind by their owners. And all between Siberian soldiers picked through the litter and watched idly by the side of the road, their rifles held all too casually at their chests. A clear view lay out in panorama from the turret of the tank. Behind, a handful of armor thundered behind. And all around were the clear skies of a Russian mid-day, save for the smoke that rose to Sun Song's right.

The juunshi looked out at the smoke rising beyond the trees and farmer's fields lining the road with a sort of knowing. An experience in the ways of war. As a veteran of the war in the Philippines. By then, he had hardly won the hardened leather cap on his head, with the bulbous earphones on the side.

He knew that some of his comrades would need to deal with it. The bulk of the column had fanned out over the countryside as they crossed over into the Republic. There was without a doubt there were armored teams that would be heading into what burned. And going down this road, he figured that on some level he'd be requested to lead his crews to it. He was already drawing fairly close towards Omsk. But he kept the expectations bottled, they'd happen as they happen. He'd be ready.

The still silence that had loomed over the radio heralded the eerie forced calm that the Chinese had experienced so far. Muffled static whispered softly through Song's earphones. Occasionally, commanders throughout the column would whisper in their positions, or give minor updates on their status. Communications were still, sterile. They had to keep the line clean.

This would change soon. Song could tell as he looked ahead.

Along the side of the road a red flag flew tattered and weak. Through the murky reinforced glass windows that circled the turret hull, small dilapidated tents grew visible between road-side brush and trees. Arranged haphazardly along the shoulder of the road and into the farmer's field beyond. Figures patrolled the outside weakly, while others lay behind them.

Through the glass Song watched as a figure stepped out into the road. The blurred soldier rose a murky flag in his hands as he hailed the tank down, waving it over his head.

“Stop at that man!” Song shouted over the grinding and whistling of the motor below.

“Yes, comrade!” his driver shouted, the new guy. He was anxious. The apprehension shown on his words. Song could say he felt sorry for the young Tsung, but then every warrior needed his moment of proving. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

To his left the tank's communication equipment sat bolted to the side of the turret. A bulky brick of electronics and diodes. Blackened knobs allowed for adjusting channel and volume, or what minor matters of noise reduction he could achieve. Like the model of tank he was in, this was new. “Q-41I, Sun Song,” he said in a raised voice as he cupped his microphone to his mouth, looking behind him at the four others following him, “We're pulling in for a stop up ahead. By advised.”

“Copy, comrade.” came the response to his ears. The headphones in his cap kept some of the background noise of his own command from getting in the way, though the same could not be said for what often fed through with the voices of his subordinates.

Slowly, the tank gave up speed and inched to the figure in the road. The noise and clattering that echoed inside died to softer tones as it came to an inching crawl, then stopped.

As the tank came to a full stop Sung reached up for the hatch above his head. The latch turned stiffly in his hand and threw open just as heavily. Fresh sunlight streamed in with golden brilliance as Sun stood up outside. His lungs singing a song of relief as they took in the heavy fresh air of the outside. A cool breeze washed from the north. It was a drink of water he drank on after riding in the warm stuffed Tei Gui.

“Hail, comrade!” the man shouted, lowering his hand. He was an officer, young for his position too. But the far away stare in his eyes was beginning to develop. And his Chinese minced with a heavy Russian tongue. Song had to give him the credit where it was due for trying, but took a moment to wonder why all Russians sounded drunk.

“Comrade.” Song shouted back. He took a moment as he breathed in the fresh air and to look around. Looking out to the shoddy encampment off to the side of the road.

“You heading to Omsk then, comrade?” the Russian soldier shouted back. His rifle hung limp under his arm, muddy strap hanging across his equally muddied and bloodied coat as it wrapped around the opposite shoulder.

There was a way he carried himself. Uncertain. His shoulders hunched and back slouched. He wasn't an eager man. He was tired. And so to did his brothers.

“In the direction.” Song replied. Nodding to the camp he asked: “What's this then? Why'd you hail us down?”

“We've some comrades trapped in the town of Kalachinsk, brother.” the soldier shouted back, nervous. From the front the driver's hatch was thrown open and Li Tsung crawled out. He gave a confirmatory look to his commander before looking at the Russian and to his camp. There was a pale relief on his face, but the expression died as he took in what was next door. The Siberian didn't make him feel any better in his tattered battle-soaked clothes. Neither did his report on the matter.

“The Republican army has encircled their position in the middle of town.” he continued woefully, ”We've tried to relieve them, break the siege for as long as they need to breath. But for the past couple of days they've been keeping us out.”

Song nodded, “What do they have?” he asked.

“Heavy machine guns, it's made for an attempt on foot suicide. They're lined up in the trees on the southern advance here.” the soldier said solemnly, “There's not a lot of cover in the farm fields, they cut us down as we go. Or snipers pick us off if we go around. I haven't seen what it's like in town since our two units were separated.”

“You allowed yourself to get separated!?” Song shouted, horrified.

“I- I-” the soldier stammered, “It was not like we could try. Fresh soldiers from Omsk got there before the rest of us did, and we lost our communication's officer!”

“I would have radioed in if we hadn't lost him.” he continued desperate. “And I can't spare any men as it is, too many of us have been injured by the assaults. So it's not like I can spare any runners, comrade!”

“Then why not pull out further to get closer with the rear-guard!?” Song shouted, angered.

“I'm afraid of what'll happen if we go back empty handed!” the Russian officer fearfully admitted in a raised voice, “At least staying here I supposed we'd meet up with someone who could do something about it.

“This is you, isn't it?” he pleaded weakly.

Song grumbled. Dropping his forehead into his fingers he stiffly messaged his temples, “What else is the situation then?” he spat.

“I believe they got mortars somewhere. Maybe out west.” he said nervously, fidgeting in the road, “And maybe they got something else. Last I saw of our brothers, they got held up in the town hall. Maybe they're still there if the Republic hasn't managed to break through.”

“I'll see what I can do.” he shouted, dropping down into the turret. He grumbled disdainfully to himself as he reached for the receiver. Turning it on and cupping it to his mouth, “This is juunshi Song, requesting command. Over.”

“This is command, comrade Song.” a female voice responded in a calm even tone.

“We've crossed with Siberians who are requesting assistance in liberating a trapped number of men at the village of Kalachinsk, do we have permission to engage?”

There was a long stretch of silence from the other end. The rumbling of the idling tank filling his ears as he waited for a response.

“This is command.” a voice said again, “Permission is raised to engage hostile forces in the village of Kalachinsk. Coordination with Siberian command recommends to hold the settlement on its liberation and to wait for reinforcement.

“Advance on the village with what support you can acquire.” the voice finished.

“Copy that, Sun Song moving out. Over and out.” he said, connecting the microphone back to the radio box.

Communication and reports continued to flow through the channel like water as Song crawled back out into the Russian light. “Do you have any men who can fight still?” he yelled at the Russian below him.

“We have some, Tovarich.” he said hesitantly.

“Rally them. You're going in with us.” Song ordered.

“Wait, you expect us to help?!” cried the officer. Tsung looked up wide eyed at his commander. A silent conversation, a confirmation went between the two as Song glared down at him. His driver diligently weaseled back into his seat.

“As best you can.” Song said, “And keep behind us as we move!” he yelled, sliding back into his seat. The hatch closed with a clang behind him. “Take us to Kalachinsk.” he shouted down into the cabin.

... As We knew It

Heyitsjiwon said
Interested! Ever read the book "One Second After"?

Nope.

... As We knew It

Enough to shut down the lot and cause a collapse.

At least for the purposes of this RP.

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

K.

... As We knew It

Fisheye said
I think that I've decided to go with this RP along with PoW. Anyway, before I start faction-crafting, could anyone give me a rough idea of what population, land, and tech level are to be at in this RP? Also, what is the state of the environment itself? Is it a more realistic TLOU-like setting with overgrown structures and the like or a more desolate Fallout-esque landscape with little arable land?

I'mma let you use your imagination on this to determine the nature of the former urban or rural environments as well as total population.

As a note, the massive solar storms that flipped off the lights would have left humanity more-or-less at about the same level of population as it would be in roughly ten years time. So there's a base to work on when you go through to try and figure your population. But like building condition and the like, keep in mind that there's been sixty years of minimal maintenance and fighting over resources and the loss of technology would leave a lot of important resources harder to gather in the mass needed to sustain civilization or population, which'll be a factor.

As for tech, the crash of electronics would set the world back to something akin to the 19th century. Though it's plausible some functions still tick on (maybe a computer or two out of a hundred and some people could fix small generators) it's still best to work with the overall tech level being very 19th century.

The world also shouldn't be cooked as it it's often pictured in Fallout. The most immediately damaged areas would be Chicago which got hit with a nuclear missile and the resulting band of fallout damage. By now the area would have come under a sort of Chernobyl like environment with still-growing trees and wildlife, but I wouldn't count on it being very healthy to live or travel through.

... As We Knew It - Another Generic-or-whatever-Post-Apoc [N]RP

Up now.

Original Interest check: http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/31067/posts/ooc

There aren't many alive today who would remember the world as it was over sixty years ago. Many of those who could even claim it are closing on dead. And the stories they told to their sons and their grandsons are just that: stories. It's all become a nostalgic memory, a part of our past as we look to now. Too much has changed to ever make it believable. Even the survivors have begun to doubt their memories. But we cling, oh how we cling to that shimmering thought.

Many born today are not in the mind to remember. They listen to us as we pass through, telling stories of wagons that moved on their own. Machines that flew through the air. They gawk at the weathered rifles we keep on our backs and the sadly mismatched bows slung in our packs. We're teachers to the new world about the old.

Our written collective tells us much. It tells us what we need to know. It says be the year 2016 the nation that was the United States was split in debate. Arguments over economic fears in rising inflation, job loss welled together with infighting over the rights of personal health in a debate over healthcare that many said refused to die. Many had drawn their swords, demanding they set sail across the Great Oceans to bring stability in a land called Eastern Europe as another nation named Russia rears.

But no matter their efforts, the situation slipped and the topics polarized more as two sides tugged and pulled. But ultimately, the end never came by the efforts of man and man alone. Though the elders would say it never helped.

On June 2nd, 2021 the lights went dark. Slipping out and dying not with the bang man waited for. And across the sky colors slid like water. Ghosts of green and blues sucking out the power that had made mankind. And as the sun rose, the night did end for humanity and the light did not return. Society had paralyzed itself. Armies stopped in their tracks. And what came the following morning burned such a mark that there needs not to be any writing to record the Second Suns that bloomed on the horizon that day.

Nuclear missiles, as many old enough that knew that by that name whispered. Atomic fire. Some theorized that it was a last launch of some rival, angry at us that the lights went dead and their cars stopped cold, that ships ceased sailing the Great Ocean and we could no longer talk across the globe. That people died in hospital that day, and the flying machines crashed into the cities killing many more.

Others had said that perhaps it was the dying breath of a system in some corner of the world. That in some cruel loop a launch was made against an enemy that never attacked. But whether it was revenge, or the last of a faulty component, it did not bathe us in fire and turn the Earth black.

Earth, our mother, lives on as we do. But humanity as it was is a legend now. Things are beyond what we knew it.

Concept – Abstract

The year is 2081, sixty years after the modern world as we know it came to an abrupt, silent end. In this world, the light-switches went out to never come on again. To many, the end could have come on the tongues of disease, of the fist of nuclear fire. We could have been torn apart by an asteroid. Instead what we got was the most silent of deaths.

Though lost in confusion, June 2nd marked a massive solar storm from the sun that bathed the skies in as much solar radiation needed to create an electrical discharge that burned out many electrical components on Earth. This breath of sunlight effectively bringing an end to normality on the ground as mass-panic ensued just seconds after. Airplanes came crashing down across the world as car motors and ship engines stuttered dead. Computers went dark, ending the stock market. And in Russia, the electrical back-feed raced through the nuclear kill-switch creating a false flag for launch, though not all missiles launched and not all managed to even go anywhere.

And mass accidents and nuclear launched aside, the world ended with humanity as wide-spread as it was. So as to be expected, the abandoned, panicked peoples of the world were forced out into an unfamiliar world and over the next few days added to the problem as riot became the next to come, displacing and killing many as the modern military of the world were left incapable of enforcing order.

And for the people who inhabit this world, this all stories.

Also for those who would remember it (I know who you are), this largely serves as a continuing line of beloved failures as a spiritual successor to a number of Roleplays on other forums, mostly held and conducted by my friends and I.

In that nature, this is designed as an RP to try and get the fullest breadth of possible post-apocalypse tropes while having in its canon a point where humanity's population was unchanged from it. There will be a location (or several) where one may run a modified zombie trope either through socially accepted cannibalism or a mixture of disease and industrial pollution to create a dullened and aggressive zombie-like people. Or just straight-up radiation.

This RP will also be:

-This is a Strat/Sandbox roleplay. I'm using that term to differentiate this roleplay from those strategy roleplays that often emulate strategy video games. The objective of this roleplay is not to build up a nation to be more powerful. Rather, the objective is to describe a society. Emphasis should be placed on characters and cultures rather then weapons and armies.

-This is going to be a "Scavenger World" style apocalypse roleplay. This means that emphasis should be placed on creative use of your surroundings. I would much rather see crossbows made from household items then assault rifles. This is not to say that conventional weapons will be banned, but rather that they are discouraged.

The Region

For the interests of centralization and to keep everyone in a small enough area we'll be directly relevant at some point, but big enough still we'll have some breathing room, this RP will be set in the greater Great Lakes region.



For the full thread I'll clip out the unneeded areas. But the states most directly related are those on the Great Lakes, this includes Canada too.

There will also be areas affected by the nuclear launch. The current nuclear wasteland crater being Chicago, with the spread of its fallout going across southern Michigan and northern Indiana.

I may also cut some fringe-states from the map to better centralize it.

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

Chapatrap said
St. Herobrine's Pokemon Trainer Academy for Gifted Anime Teenagers

/w Grox.

Precipice of War - We Write Under The Sign Of The Goat

What we do need are more Herobrine RPs.