Avatar of DruSM157

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9 mos ago
Current Today I officially de-fridged the death of a female character who was fridged for RP drama almost 20 years ago. Hopefully it makes sense in the story and comes across as a way better story beat.
4 yrs ago
Jokes on everyone I just look like a sad Travis Touchdown who has really really loud shits
3 likes
4 yrs ago
You status bar people sure are a contentious bunch
4 likes
4 yrs ago
Adding to that, unless you are exhibiting life threatening symptoms (unable to breathe, etc) go to a rapid test site in your area than going to the ER. Local ERs are swamped and overwhelmed here.
3 likes
4 yrs ago
As someone who has been stabbed in the past knives are not kinky
2 likes

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Most Recent Posts

Since i've got so much interest in the RP; and since i've been writing all evening, I went ahead and made an IC as well. CS skeleton to be posted SOON!

http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/161591-steamtown-blood-and-gunpowder/ooc



Premise


Baker's Rest, more commonly known as Blackfinger, is the technological hub of the New World. A good comparison would be Menlo Park; where some of the greatest minds are brought together to build and contract machines to improve mankind's life; and then those machines are sold by men to keep a semblance of power and control in their areas. Unlike Edison (a scumbag) the leaders of Baker's Rest control the release and sale of technology not for financial control; but to keep stability. Between the corrupt and cruel nation of Jefferson to the West, the Old World obsessed scavengers of Old Glory to the East, or the growing danger of a new militia led by the mysterious and cruel General; a sudden shift in power could throw the small nations of surviving peoples into a bloody warfare.

All it would take is a spark. And Blackfinger is the ultimate powderkeg.

Background


The world has ended.

It’s easy to start out with that: the world ending. Because it implies everything ended. And that, as many things are, is a lie. The thing about this world: it’s creatures and its inhabitants is that they continue to survive long after things should have brought them to a designated end.

When the great blackout came, it came at the worst time globally. Scholars still argue what caused the great blackout; some argue it was the biggest solar flare in the history of earth; others argued it was an EMP blast launched from some foreign nation. It didn’t matter what caused the great blackout, only that it happened and it took away our entire modern world.

Everything had become so mechanized. Machines and computers controlled most of our modern lives. They built our machines, ran our cities, kept us alive and entertained us. And in one swift moment: we lost it all. Cars stopped working. Infrastructure broke down. Millions died in the first week. By the time the winter came: a cold and harsh winter; millions more died. Cities became giant crypts of the dead, wrecked with disease; and as the years passed, became dangerous crumbling monoliths to the old world.

America was no more. How could it persist when nearly every leader perished in the first weeks? But there’s something about humans: even when most them die out; some still survive. Against the odds they continue to scrounge and scavenge. They form groups, then communities, then settlements and finally we have the world today.

Modern technology was lost to us; but in that loss we discovered that some things still worked: old technology, tossed to the wayside and put out of use for centuries now became the tools to keep society alive. Steam combustion, black powder, horses; things regarded as quaint in the old world became the way to survive. Those with the means to harness this technology became the new centers in the new world.

These new growing cities were called Steamtowns. Built on rivers, on the banks of old decaying cities, in large farmlands or anywhere safe from the debris and danger of the old world, these became the seats of new nations in the shadow of nations passed. The most famous Steamtown was known by many as Blackfinger, though its true name was Baker’s Rest. Blackfinger was the heart of manufacturing in this new world; acting as both a trading city on the lower banks of the Great River, and as the heart of new invention. It’s the heart of the Freetowns, a loose government based around the Great River. It’s where this tale begins.

Technology


Due to the mysterious event known as the Blackout, all modern technology is worthless. The technological advances in these 80-odd years after the Blackout has led mankind into a technological boom like the late 1800s, a time of rapid invention and technological discovery. The steam engine, gunpowder and new devices reign supreme in this steampunk wild west.

Still, weaponry and invention still occur; the weapons are not simply carbon copied versions of guns from the 1800s, though designs may be similar to the cap-and-ball black powder pistols or the rotating barrel volanic pistols you've seen in westerns and in video games. Players are allowed creativity with their weapons; especially since in this time period scavenging is still a good course of metal and parts. Horse-drawn carriages may have a base that was originally an Old World car, for example.

Vehicles range from horse powered (carriages and the sort) to trains and smaller steamboats. Zeppelins and balloons DO exist, but those are in the hands of the fabulously wealthy. The reason that older cars (pre-computer cars, for example) are not still being used (as well as gas-combustion engines) is due to the ravages of time. This story takes place 80 years after the fall; and even the most meticulously kept vehicle can't last forever under harsh weather conditions and a lack of fresh parts. Plus, gas does go bad, and without access to oil refineries, gas' use has lessened while wood and coal powered engines work better.

Terms and Nations


Old World: Anything pertaining to the world before the great blackout.

Great River: Known in the Old World as the Mississippi; the Great River is the spine of the Freetowns, and the largest trade river on the continent. The Great River has remained surprisingly unpolluted compared to other large water bodies; due to Old World contamination.

Blackfinger: Refers to both the town of Baker’s Rest and to its inhabitants due to the excess of blackpowder and coal that many of the populace work with. Someone who is an excellent engineer may also be referred to as a “Blackfinger” even if they don’t hail from the city.

Barger: People who make their living on barges or steamships; trading up and down the Great River. Bargers tend to both deal in ferrying people up and down the great river as well as delivering supplies between towns.

Coppers and Silvers: The currency agreed on in the nations for trading. All currency is metal, and is referred to into lower change (pennies) called coppers and dollar values (silvers). Gold items like coins, jewelry and bars are super valuable in this market.

Scavvers: The most dangerous job in the New World can sometimes be the most lucrative, if you find the right things and have the right buyers. Scavvers make a living exploring the ruined Old Cities; but run the risk of death and disease.

Freetowns: A loose collective of cities built on the Great River. Each town in the collective is run by a council of elders. Many of the Freetowns are connected to rails, which has made the Freetowns the biggest trading partner of all the nations in the New World; putting them at a precious position when conflicts break out between other nations.

Jefferson: A huge agricultural nation to the west of the Freetowns. Jefferson has one of the strongest economies in the new world, though it is also the harshest and most inhuman of the nations. The largest agricultural center in the New World; it also boasts a hefty drug trade, gang violence and human trafficking. The major city of Jefferson is New Rojas; which acts as both a rail hub and the largest trading city in the New World.

Brighton: Northwest of the Freetowns and north of Jefferson, Brighton occupies large forested and mountainous regions of the new world, with heavily spiritual populaces born from Old World groups. The major trade good from Brighton is furs and cloth. Brighton is the most sparsely populated nation of the new world; and many live near the city of Young’s Hope; which is the only Brighton city connected to the rail line.

The Capes: Directly north of the Freetowns, The Capes refers to a small nation built around the Great Lakes regions. A harsh, cold part of the New World The Capes sports the biggest fishing industry in the New World.

Old Glory: The far-eastern nation, draped in pagentry and obsession with the Old world nation. Old Glory is most known for scavvers, as Old Glory is a dangerous nation home to many of the largest old cities. Those drapped in the colors of the Old World nation are kept at arm's length, in fears of them baring plague.

Rules


Since this is in Advanced, I hope everyone who applies understands the basic forum and RP rules. From obeying the laws of the land (aka the Guild's rules). Basic respect and decency should be given to everyone, regardless of writing ability or attitude. Golden rule applies heavily.

Respect me and RP staff. Please.

No power gaming. This should be the most known and basic rule there is. No called hits, shots, kills, etc. This RP is character heavy and character driven. That means that every post is not going to be a violent shoot out. In fact, many situations will require critical thinking instead of combat prowess.

Post your character applications in the OOC. If I (or my co-GM) accept you, then you can post in the characters tab.

I will be posting at least once every 5 days. I would like to hold everyone to that standard, unless something comes up. I understand people have schedules, school, work, etc. Trust me, i'm a teacher; I understand. If you will be absent, please let me and the other players know. We can either move the plot along with you NPC'd, or we can hold off until a better time.

About the GM


In case people don't know about me or are worried about my GM credentials, i'd like to take a moment to at least give some information about myself. I've been roleplaying both on forums and on messenger/chats now for over 14 years. I have GM'd for multiple RPS on the Guild (most lost to the last big Guild crash) and I have participated in countless more RPs. My main RP area is in Advanced, and I am a character focused writer. I have a Bachelor's degree in English and a Master's Degree in Secondary English Education. And while I've spent much of my adult life working on writing and reading comprehension, I am also a human and I make typos. And I understand typos. I will not insult you or treat you differently for how you write, and I ask that you don't treat me any differently if I have formatting errors or spelling mistakes. We're all human.

My normal RP time is 4-10 PM Eastern US Time.
Thanks for expressing interest in the RP everyone! I'll try and hammer out the actual RP topic soon. It'll have more world information and stuff. If anyone has any questions til then, don't be afraid to ask!


Background


The world has ended.

It’s easy to start out with that: the world ending. Because it implies everything ended. And that, as many things are, is a lie. The thing about this world: it’s creatures and its inhabitants is that they continue to survive long after things should have brought them to a designated end.

When the great blackout came, it came at the worst time globally. Scholars still argue what caused the great blackout; some argue it was the biggest solar flare in the history of earth; others argued it was an EMP blast launched from some foreign nation. It didn’t matter what caused the great blackout, only that it happened and it took away our entire modern world.

Everything had become so mechanized. Machines and computers controlled most of our modern lives. They built our machines, ran our cities, kept us alive and entertained us. And in one swift moment: we lost it all. Cars stopped working. Infrastructure broke down. Millions died in the first week. By the time the winter came: a cold and harsh winter; millions more died. Cities became giant crypts of the dead, wrecked with disease; and as the years passed, became dangerous crumbling monoliths to the old world.

America was no more. How could it persist when nearly every leader perished in the first weeks? But there’s something about humans: even when most them die out; some still survive. Against the odds they continue to scrounge and scavenge. They form groups, then communities, then settlements and finally we have the world today.

Modern technology was lost to us; but in that loss we discovered that some things still worked: old technology, tossed to the wayside and put out of use for centuries now became the tools to keep society alive. Steam combustion, black powder, horses; things regarded as quaint in the old world became the way to survive. Those with the means to harness this technology became the new centers in the new world.

These new growing cities were called Steamtowns. Built on rivers, on the banks of old decaying cities, in large farmlands or anywhere safe from the debris and danger of the old world, these became the seats of new nations in the shadow of nations passed. The most famous Steamtown was known by many as Blackfinger, though its true name was Baker’s Rest. Blackfinger was the heart of manufacturing in this new world; acting as both a trading city on the lower banks of the Great River, and as the heart of new invention. It’s the heart of the Freetowns, a loose government based around the Great River. It’s where this tale begins.

Premise


Steamtown is a heavily multigenre roleplay: a thick mixture beginning with a post-apocalyptic setting; and then mixing in both a steampunk and a western theme to the world. Simply put, a world-ending catastrophe has occurred and an event--unknown to the characters--has made all modern technology completely unusable. Cars, computers, modern trains and planes; everything that could be destroyed by an EMP or a solar flare has. This caused mass deaths: around 75% of the human population has died in the past 80 years.

The characters of this story come from all walks of life; from traders, farmers and engineers to bounty hunters and ex-gang members. The story converges in Baker's Rest; more popularly known as Blackfinger; the Menlo Park of this new era where engineers and machinists build new technology based off of 1800s-early 1900s technology. It's very much steampunk in that sense, but instead of a bright and Victorian world, it's a dark, gritty western world where people scrape by to survive.

The RP is both plot and character focused. I'm looking for RP'ers who are happy to really paint an interesting and varied cast of misfits who adventure through this harsh and dangerous world. I've got tons more background and world information saved up for this RP; but i'll be posting that giant dumb of information in the OOC topic (if I can get enough interest in this whole shebang). If you've got questions, concerns, bad jokes, insults or requests, feel free to shout them here or shoot me a PM. Thanks everyone!

Why Advanced?

Thanks to my partner-in-crime/constant critic @Gowi most of my focus in RPing nowadays is more heavily character driven and contains more descriptive writing. I have a bigger focus on larger, collaborative posts which allow for deeper character introspection instead of simple actions. So that's why I like the Advanced Forums!

Edit!

In case people are lookin' in here, the OOC can be found here:
http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/161591-steamtown-blood-and-gunpowder/ooc


Background


The world has ended.

It’s easy to start out with that: the world ending. Because it implies everything ended. And that, as many things are, is a lie. The thing about this world: it’s creatures and its inhabitants is that they continue to survive long after things should have brought them to a designated end.

When the great blackout came, it came at the worst time globally. Scholars still argue what caused the great blackout; some argue it was the biggest solar flare in the history of earth; others argued it was an EMP blast launched from some foreign nation. It didn’t matter what caused the great blackout, only that it happened and it took away our entire modern world.

Everything had become so mechanized. Machines and computers controlled most of our modern lives. They built our machines, ran our cities, kept us alive and entertained us. And in one swift moment: we lost it all. Cars stopped working. Infrastructure broke down. Millions died in the first week. By the time the winter came: a cold and harsh winter; millions more died. Cities became giant crypts of the dead, wrecked with disease; and as the years passed, became dangerous crumbling monoliths to the old world.

America was no more. How could it persist when nearly every leader perished in the first weeks? But there’s something about humans: even when most them die out; some still survive. Against the odds they continue to scrounge and scavenge. They form groups, then communities, then settlements and finally we have the world today.

Modern technology was lost to us; but in that loss we discovered that some things still worked: old technology, tossed to the wayside and put out of use for centuries now became the tools to keep society alive. Steam combustion, black powder, horses; things regarded as quaint in the old world became the way to survive. Those with the means to harness this technology became the new centers in the new world.

These new growing cities were called Steamtowns. Built on rivers, on the banks of old decaying cities, in large farmlands or anywhere safe from the debris and danger of the old world, these became the seats of new nations in the shadow of nations passed. The most famous Steamtown was known by many as Blackfinger, though its true name was Baker’s Rest. Blackfinger was the heart of manufacturing in this new world; acting as both a trading city on the lower banks of the Great River, and as the heart of new invention. It’s the heart of the Freetowns, a loose government based around the Great River. It’s where this tale begins.

Premise


Steamtown is a heavily multigenre roleplay: a thick mixture beginning with a post-apocalyptic setting; and then mixing in both a steampunk and a western theme to the world. Simply put, a world-ending catastrophe has occurred and an event--unknown to the characters--has made all modern technology completely unusable. Cars, computers, modern trains and planes; everything that could be destroyed by an EMP or a solar flare has. This caused mass deaths: around 75% of the human population has died in the past 80 years.

The characters of this story come from all walks of life; from traders, farmers and engineers to bounty hunters and ex-gang members. The story converges in Baker's Rest; more popularly known as Blackfinger; the Menlo Park of this new era where engineers and machinists build new technology based off of 1800s-early 1900s technology. It's very much steampunk in that sense, but instead of a bright and Victorian world, it's a dark, gritty western world where people scrape by to survive.

The RP is both plot and character focused. I'm looking for RP'ers who are happy to really paint an interesting and varied cast of misfits who adventure through this harsh and dangerous world. I've got tons more background and world information saved up for this RP; but i'll be posting that giant dumb of information in the OOC topic (if I can get enough interest in this whole shebang). If you've got questions, concerns, bad jokes, insults or requests, feel free to shout them here or shoot me a PM. Thanks everyone!
Those robots are scary lookin
Man I just love giant robots.


Alan Fouren
LOCALE Smith’s Rest, New Anchorage
TIME // Afternoon



Alan pulled at his collar watching the others talk and give their little speeches. This was hell. Putting them on display for all of these civilians-what did they expect? Graham’s words seemed to echo around in his ears—his warning on repeat; almost becoming obsessive in Alan’s mind. Den of vipers. Venom. Danger. There was nothing more dangerous than foolish scared people, and the new Minister seemed to wield her weapon with excellence. Alan had no idea if these civilians were here on order or by choice; but either way he realized that Ryn and Percy were not the two best people to go first.

And you are? The voice seemed to sink in like a cold knife in his back. He was a waster and he and Ryn have seen how the public treated them for years now. Usually they left some of the larger guns with guns at their backs. Other times led to blood on their hands.

Cold metal iron. Calluses on the hand. Blood. The shape of the skull caving. Rapid smashes. Alan was 17. The man had been drunk, belligerent, horny. Pulled a knife on him, placed it to his throat in a seedy back alley bathroom somewhere south of Chicago. A pipe had given way; Alan had swept his leg and came upon him like a wild animal, only stopping when the man’s body had been reduced to a twitching bloody mess on the floor.

Ryn stepped away from the microphone and the crowd seemed awkward in their applause. Next came Percy. They’d spoken momentarily in the canteen. Hell, they’d interacted a few times outside of training. Alan had called him Percival once; which just made the man confused. Of course he didn’t read Tennyson; no one did anymore. He bit his lip as the man’s speech broke apart; unraveled and left the man a broken mess at the end.

He glanced to Celina as she called for the crowd to come to a sense of calm; to return to order. Order was something the woman seemed to wield like a very blunt hammer; and so far it had made things quite awkward between the people and the pilots.

What can you do? All they’ll see from you is a waster. A thief. A vagabond. A liar.

Alan stood up. He shifted his collar around, trying to ignore the tiny beads of sweat that emerged, either from the discomfort of the uniform he was forced to wear, or from the nerves that were slowly beating his heart like a war drum. Thump. Thump. Thump. How did that nursery rhyme go? The boys in the burrow go thump thump thump on the door? Thump thump thump, jumping up up up on their beds. Running thump thump thump down the halls? Banging thump thump thump on the doors? And when the lights go out and they’re left all along their bodies go thump thump thump in the ground?

Alan gasped. He needed air. He needed water. He needed to be anywhere but here. He’d stood up, and was making a slow, methodical pace towards the microphone. Every second felt like ten years, twenty years, growing with each step until it took a painful century to cross to the very front of the microphone. He made an audible gasp for air before he closed his eyes. Home. Warm beds. Fresh baked bread from Pip’s grandmother. Aunt Rosemary’s mushroom tea on a cold autumn day. Mother’s voice. Father’s large, calloused hands. Alan’s hands stopped shaking.

"My name is Alan Fouren."

Everyone is looking at you.

"I pilot The Wild Wolf."

Alan’s gaze focused away from staring at any one person; and attempted to keep his gaze above the heads of the crowd. No need to stare at any one person, no need to focus. Just answer the questions and sit down. The danger of Celina echoed in his head again. No; he couldn’t simply answer questions flippantly. She was watching and the people were watching. He was under a microscope, flayed out and ready to be examined by the masses. He had to make this work; at least until he found the Gold NC.

The first question came, and there was wariness to it. "Where are you from?"

They’re afraid of you. They don’t want a waster here. What will they think about home? Alan closed his eyes. All dead. Fire, gunpowder, blood. Debris everywhere. "It's a little town called Dead Springs-about a quarter of the size of New Anchorage here. Small enough that everyone knew each other."

Their faces flash in his mind. Uncle Bill’s body, torn to shreds. Alan could never find the legs. Just a torso split apart by thermal weaponry. He’d probably died from the impact. Cora the local nursemaid; her body hunched over the burned bodies of the local children. Daisy, who’d kissed him before the ramshackle scrap barn: her body spread across the local town hall.

“It’s a tight knit little community.”

"It sounds nice. Why did you leave?"

"Small town meant that everyone had to pull their weight. Me and three other boys from the area all tested positive to receive the NC implant. Working as caravan guards, extra backup on raids, small-time jobs. It helped keep food on the table."

"So you're planning to go back, then?" another asked.

Alan sighed. "If I could, I'd be back home as soon as my tour ended." These were normal folks; that's who he had to win over. "I heard about your recent raider attack; some time before some of these pilots and I arrived. I was relieved to find the settlement in good condition, and-" he turned a glance at Percy’s empty chair, before facing going back to looking out at everyone again. "I am truly sorry for everyone you lost in your attack."

Forgive me mother. He’d never even seen their bodies. His home had collapsed on top of them in the attack. Their home was their grave marker. And here he was, about to dig them up and parade them around for fucking sympathy. The deep pit inside of Alan twisted, as if his shame had contracted a dark sickness growing inside of him.

"Dead Springs didn't have the same kind of defenses you have here at New Anchorage. Raiders attacked fast while my team was on leave. By the time we returned and tried to fight back it was too late. We lost everything."

He turned back to face the crowd, placing on a mask of something that seemed...brave? Faux confidence. A guise to try and seduce these people. "I swear to every person here in this crowd: I will never let another attack like that happen again on my watch."

Celina let her grin out, if a bit, in tandem with the crowd. "We're glad to have your loyalty, Mister Fouren. Many people are hesitant to trust those who live their lives in the roughest places of our world. Consider yourself as setting a precedent, we'll all have interested eyes on you. Next question."

He felt as if he’s sprung a trap. Here he was, a wild animal pinned under Celina’s words; a sharp vice now. He wanted to run; any animal would simply tear away at its leg to escape a trap. It would be simple, leap off the stage, make a break for the hangar, climb into the Wolf…

"Do you have any family? A wife or child?" The question broke Alan’s fantasy and brought him crashing down, a fantastic meteoric crash back into reality and where he was. Here. Now. Answering these fucking questions.

”I uh…look-” Alan seemed to rub his eyes in contemplation of exactly how to answer this question. “I’m still quite young. But-and this is my own personal belief, because I’ve met many pilots who had families and a happy family life-but I would feel that the amount of danger a NC Pilot undergoes, alongside the fact that a pilot tends to be away for long stretches of time would cause unnecessary strain and pain in a relationship. It’s simply easier to focus on work than to really….think about those kinds of things.”

Alan looked downward and scratched his head. He’d never even had a long lasting relationship with anyone since becoming a pilot. Many people simply looked at him and treated him like he was diseased.

Another man stepped up. "Would you call New Anchorage your home?"

Celina must look like the cat that caught the canary.

Home. "That's...a tough question. Pilots like me, we don't get the chance to settle down much. We're expected to follow jobs. A lot of people like to characterize us as thieves, lowlives and vagabonds."

Get to the point. She's got a knife to your back. Any inch, she wants any inch to dig deeper.

"If you guys will have me, I'd be honored to call New Anchorage my home."

He could feel Ryn's glare on the back of his head. She of all people knew the truth. He wasn't a man with a home. He wasn't a man of ideals. He was exactly what he called himself. He knew what he told them was a half-truth. He never expected any of these people to accept him for what he was; and part of him, deep down didn’t want their acceptance. Ultimately there was one reason for him being so far north; so far from easy pay and safety. That NC. Once he found them; once he finally settled up with that pilot; there wouldn’t be any need for anyone to call him a liar or a drifted any more.

Settle up.

Tentatively, that answer seemed to satisfy the crowd. There was applause in any case, begun by Celina herself no less. "I'd have'im for a drink," said one. "Bet he hunts well, growin' up in a waste," said another. "Well he's gotta survive, first."

"Yeah I've seen pictures--" "--looks like a heap of junk--" "--on earth it even moves, let alone fights."

"Do you think you're capable for the job?" arose a question at last. "These attacks have been brutal and organized, have you ever been up against enemies like that and won? Could you really protect us?"

"I became a pilot when I turned sixteen."Alan scratched his nose, trying to tie the words as eloquently as the great writers and orators he grew up reading had done.

"Since then I've been involved in countless sorties. And while I lack the experience some of our more veteran pilots have, I can say this: when pilots work as a team, they can be unstoppable. I know it seems scary, and I know it is easy to look at pilots with fear for the work we have to do." He motioned to the pilots behind him. "We come from different places, Different backgrounds, different walks of life. But we all came here to serve you, New Anchorage. From trained military to self-taught survival skills, we have decades of experience between all of us." He gave a grin, "I don't simply believe, I know we will be the ones to keep New Anchorage safe. I'm proud to serve with all of my fellow pilots."

Broken vets. Green fools. Foreign military. Ryn. What a fucking team.

"We will make you all proud of us."

Something had changed in the air. Perhaps it was the sudden shift in the style of his response, or perhaps what he was saying was simply a step past where the people were willing to trust a waster. Either way, it would become clear that Alan's inspirational speech was not hitting its mark, at least not with the audience. Celina, though, was still grinning.

"Thank you for those...rousing words, Mister Fouren. I believe that will be all, unless there are any other questions." The crowd shifted, but stayed silent. Celina straightened. "Then, next."
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