Lady Selune

The Ward

Greetings Inmates. I am the Warden. Despite your many personal failings, you may yet still redeem the race you have so slighted. In approximately thirty-eight seconds, you will be deployed into the Borehole. Carry out your designated tasks, listen to my instructions, and work together, or else, you will find yourselves perishing together."

-???

You awken to the sounds of crashing steel and twisting, hissing pipes. Barely have you time to catch your bearings when a single electrical eye descends on you, and begins rattling off your instructions. A few moments later, and you are being shunted down a long, deep, unending passage, into the bowels of hell. Your only lifeline to the surface comes from the Warden, and all you know about yourselves comes from the Warden's documents he has so graciously allowed you to read. Cryogenic preservative drugs do tend to induce amnesia, after all.

Inside the Borehole is a hellish, neverending maze of scientific folly and hubris. Sucessfully navigate it, and you may, just may, receive the pardon the Warden has promised you.

---

---

Welcome to the WARD. An SCP/GTFO inspired game, you take the role of a recently awoken inmate in 'The Ward' a giant cryogenic holding facility above the 'Borehole.' You are told little and know less- all hopes of your survival ride on your performance.

Character Sheet

Note: This will be a canon document that your character will be given. As such, the format should be stuck to. Thank you!

Full Name:
Very simple, just the name of your character.

Age:
The Warden typically uses prisoners between the ages of 21-40

Nationality:
What country your character comes from.

Appearance:
The basic overall appearance of your character, including, but not limited to, hair, eye and skin colour, height, weight, tattoos, scars or any other unusual physical feature. All inmates wear a standard set of boots, dark grey waterproof cargo trousers, a black undershirt, dark grey waterproof hooded jacket, dark grey tactical vest, a set of dark grey waterproof gloves, a large dark grey rucksack and a twin filter, single visor gas mask.

Background:
[INMATE HISTORY EXPUNGED BY WARDEN]

Talents:
A brief description of things your character is especially good at. These should give some insight into the backstory the Warden has deleted.

Personal Effect:
Yes, effect singular. The Warden tends to give Inmates a single item which they believe may inspire the Inmate when the going gets tough. What did he give your character?

The Emperor's Duty: A Warhammer 40K RP

@Jamesyco

We are indeed. We lost our Scion commander so we need another one.

~Of Flames and Fantasy~

The morning haze had yet to burn off in the capital of Taxipelermico, leaving the city wreathed in an intimidating cloak of mist. In the delta areas, emaciated, long-legged figures stalked, twisted legs plucking through the silt and mud to make their way towards the freshwater gardens, and further out, where the river could not overcome and the water was brackish and unpalatable, the bloated forms of living, floating cultivators tended to the bounties of edible plantlife there. As the sun rose higher and higher into the sky, its rays would grace the tips of the great temples and the rivulets of blood running down their sides, each river another offering. The last of the broken, mutilated bodies would finally topple down the steps of the smallest of the pyramids until finally it had ended its descent, not a drop left in its veins.

This, however, was all normal for those in the city. What was not was the topic of discussion going on in the tallest and widest of the temples, its multiple tiers uniquely designed to host government as well as ritual. Standing outside its pillars, the last of the blood finishing its route down past them, masked and armed freemen stood, still and silent sentinels stopping any who would interfere with the great works being carried out behind them.

Inside, several intricately-adorned figures spoke.

"We know that they are not the only newcomers." The first figure that spoke was the only one sitting. Noticably older than the rest, his damp skin was crinkled like well-used paper and far more gold hung onto his frail form than on any of the others. He croaked out a feeble breath, fingers gripping his staff with surprising force for his seeming invalidity. "This changes what we thought. They may well be more powerful than us, when all united. As allies, they could amplify Telczan's power greatly."

"Or, we could simply be letting them know of our power and prime them to destroy us. You have seen their great sea-crafts, can you imagine what the weaponry on that might do when brought to bear against us?" In constrast, this figure was broad-shouldered and could almost avoid being considered as 'frail.' His crown bore an intricately marked series of deep red symbols that had been cut into his flesh, the designs totally circling his elongated skull.

"Your youth makes you suspicious." The third figure analysed the youngest among them with suspicion. "There is nothing to be lost with talk, and much to be gained. I know you have come from weaving battlefields, but blood and spoilt flesh is not the only thing we must work with when we rule our people."

"Exactly." The oldest figure's mouth contorted into a thin smile. "All in favour of a proper envoy." He held his hand up as he spoke, and the veins would begin to emanate a soft blue glow. Around him, other figures raised up their own hands, arms lit up in hues of blues and oranges to show their approval or dissaproval. Looking about, the older figure would nod, slowly, before levering himself to his feet. In one corner, a short, many legged figure squatted, and the fleshcrafter's hand would come down onto his forehead, the blue light flowing out and into this lesser being's cranium. With a bestial chatter it acknowledged its orders, before scurrying out and down the steps of the temple, single-minded in carrying out the will of its masters.

High Castles, Ivory Towers

Jacqueline turned towards the man with some surprise on her face. It wasn't often someone you didn't know approached you and started talking to you out of the blue, especially in this new world where everyone could damn you to a bullet in the back. Nonetheless, after she heard his words she would let out a confident laugh, pearly-white teeth gleaming in the night. "Wasn't a forest nymph, but yes, yes I did manage to talk him out of that particular bit of foolishness." She would offer her hand out as he offered his name, a warm smile still across her face. As she shook his hand with a firm yet dainty grip, she would introduce herself as well. "Jacqueline Schultz, a pleasure to meet you Mr. Carter." She paused for a second. "And yes, one of the advantages of 'star power,' such as it is, is the fact that you can make a stink and they'll either handle it or be left with the smell in their nose for far too long."

She analysed the man carefully, looking him up and down. He seemed... different to the usual lot. He wasn't wearing fancy clothes, nothing tailored to him, all store bought, and he spoke like a red-blooded American, but she was sure she knew most of the film staff by now and he certainly didn't seem like some studio executive. "So, Mr Carter, what is it exactly you do around these parts? I can't say I've had the pleasure of making your acquaintance before, or even seen you about if I'm perfectly honest."

The Emperor's Duty: A Warhammer 40K RP

The bark of an Exitus rifle marked the end of the leader of the enforcers, and then hell broke loose.

In an instant, the air was filled with the revving of machines, the yells of soldiers and the steady, constant cracks and rattles of autogun fire. Before the commander's headless corpse had hit the ground, lascannons hummed, lethal charges deposited into the air towards the massed forces around the manor, and any civilians that had been sticking around now rapidly ran for cover. The arbites, being the most prominently exposed, would find themselves under a hailstorm of bullets, the Lockshields holding up admirably well considering the calibre that was raining down onto them.

The guard would face equally stiff resistance. An autogun chattered out a reply, one of the vehicles wrecked as its heavy rounds smashed the steel and tore apart the engine. The fortress walls shuddered at the impact but held steady, even as more enforcers began to throw grenades or light up any guardsman that seemed too exposed.

"They have snipers." The assassin's voice crackled out over the comms, before his exitus rifle would cough out its muffled shots and he would amend his sentence. "They had snipers. The Emperor protect your assault. We'll handle our targets."

---

As the firing patterns were uploaded, there came a response from inside the foundry. Adjustments, tweaks here and there, the introduction of new shooters that the squad did not have. As if to answer why this was, the heavy blast door would open with surprising celerity, a series of servitors shambling out lead by a single red-robed figure and several shirtless, augmented workers carrying the sort of personal firearms that was common among the hives. The gangers outside, clearly having not anticipated such a ferocious alpha strike fell like wheat did against the scythe, their blood ignobly trickling out onto the street.

Foreman Talos at your service. The red-robed figure's brass-shod staff, the end proudly displaying a faintly illuminated mechanicus skull showed his rank, the techpriest barely inclining his head in a sign of respect. Please, come with me. I have learnt of the loyal mission here, and there are many things of urgency to show you.

---

Could silence be aggressive? It seemed silly, but this silence certainly did. As the squad moved through the pitch black hallways, lights swinging about, there came an open doorway. It didn't seem to be crucial, it was slender and cheaply constructed, so certainly not a bulkhead, but that didn't reduce the number of questions it raised. Until, of course, the squad stepped through the doorway. Hardly had their lights begun to illuminate this new room when one of them fell onto a figure, dark cloak hiding them in the crook of the room. In a single movement and with barely a rustle of sound a gunbarrel would emerge, and then the entire room would blossom with light.

A shotgun blast tore its way out, even as the multicoloured hues of differently-aligned las capacitor silently signalled death. Just how many figures were in this room? In the hailstorm of fire, it was impossible to tell, but none of them appeared to have sympathies for these new trespassers.

High Castles, Ivory Towers

If Ben had been expecting some continuation that would give some answers to the mysteries of the flashpaper and the determined expression he had seen, he would be sorely mistaken. Instead, she would do the expected for a Hollywood starlet in Santa Monica- hit the beach, enjoy the sun for a few hours, and then retire back to her house, catching the same tramline back the way she came. Ben would be left to either camp outside the house until the well-engineered BMW of his current employer pulled up, or return to his darkroom to develop what pictures would come out.

The next day as well was almost unanimously dull. Almost, as the tote bag would make a reappearance, and if Ben had been particularly on the case, he would have noted her handing it off to the same denim-clad smoker that had so dismissed him the first time he'd entered the Glamour Hawk studios. The man would nod at her and vanish, and then onwards nothing more would be seen of the mysterious flashpaper pages, the starlet returning to filming as smoothly as could be. After all, a rewrite didn't mean that there wasn't other scenes to be filmed.

High Castles, Ivory Towers

"Here." Vince reached back into his desk and took out a large pile of papers out, setting them down on his desk. Jacqueline would stand up, brows furrowed, tapping a little ash off into the tray on her friend's desk as she did so. Taking the thin, flammable paper sheet into her hand- it reminded her of a piece of bible paper more than anything else, she raised it up to look at the news with a critical eye. Talks of the Home Guard detonating rail lines, a Milice official brutally assassinated in France, a Polish ex-fighter pilot stealing a bird and taking out a hangar's worth of planes almost by his lonesome before he had been intercepted, even one particularly daring tale circulated by the Free BBC about a resistance fighter scheduled for hanging whisked away from the assassination by a resistance cell and smuggled to Canada. Morale-boosting stuff indeed, even if she knew the brutal reparations inflicted in response weren't being recorded. Nobody needed to be told that the communities where these events had taken place would have suffered mass hangings, civillians rounded up and any adult male unlucky to be picked out dragged in to have their fingers smashed and eyes gouged out by the Gestapo.

"I'll get hese to the right boys." She nodded slowly. "They'll spread them about." Her nods picked up in confidence. "I assume they're the edible ones?" She rubbed her finger and thumb together to tease out the crease of this paper. Unsurprisingly, she almost tore through it without trying.

"You'd be right. They go up like a flash and you can swallow them in just a few seconds if needs be. Not good for rolling with, but we thought that to be a minor sacrifice. This way, you can get rid of it even if they're kicking the door in." He would demonstrate, taking the sheet from her hand and holding the corner up to his cigar. In an instant the edge had caught, and barely two seconds later the whole thing was but a fine powder in his fingers, which he would sprinkle down onto his desk and sweep out with a hand onto the floor.

"Handy," was all the response would be, nodding slowly. Reaching into her bag, she withdrew a large tote and placed the papers into it, before setting the tote down onto the ground and turning towards the window. "It's gonna be real hot in this room if I close the blinds." There was definite lamentation in her voice.

"It's for the best though love. Don't know who could be watching." Vince would rise up from behind her and reach for the metal beads, tugging them down until the slats had rotated and the view to the inside had been blocked off. Once it was closed, hands would reach clothing, and it would be a good hour until Jacqueline would emerge, pristine appearance only slightly ruffled and tote-bag in hand.

The Ward

@The Ghost Note@Skwint@Xandrya@MST3K 4ever@DJAtomika

discord.gg/sR4CdRP

The Ward

Greetings Inmates. I am the Warden. Despite your many personal failings, you may yet still redeem the race you have so slighted. In approximately thirty-eight seconds, you will be deployed into the Borehole. Carry out your designated tasks, listen to my instructions, and work together, or else, you will find yourselves perishing together."

-???

You awken to the sounds of crashing steel and twisting, hissing pipes. Barely have you time to catch your bearings when a single electrical eye descends on you, and begins rattling off your instructions. A few moments later, and you are being shunted down a long, deep, unending passage, into the bowels of hell. Your only lifeline to the surface comes from the Warden, and all you know about yourselves comes from the Warden's documents he has so graciously allowed you to read. Cryogenic preservative drugs do tend to induce amnesia, after all.

Inside the Borehole is a hellish, neverending maze of scientific folly and hubris. Sucessfully navigate it, and you may, just may, receive the pardon the Warden has promised you.

---

---

Welcome to the WARD. An SCP/GTFO inspired game, you take the role of a recently awoken inmate in 'The Ward' a giant cryogenic holding facility above the 'Borehole.' You are told little and know less- all hopes of your survival ride on your performance.

Character Sheet

Note: This will be a canon document that your character will be given. As such, the format should be stuck to. Thank you!

Full Name:
Very simple, just the name of your character.

Age:
The Warden typically uses prisoners between the ages of 21-40

Nationality:
What country your character comes from.

Appearance:
The basic overall appearance of your character, including, but not limited to, hair, eye and skin colour, height, weight, tattoos, scars or any other unusual physical feature. All inmates wear a standard set of boots, dark grey waterproof cargo trousers, a black undershirt, dark grey waterproof hooded jacket, dark grey tactical vest, a set of dark grey waterproof gloves, a large dark grey rucksack and a twin filter, single visor gas mask.

Background:
[INMATE HISTORY EXPUNGED BY WARDEN]

Talents:
A brief description of things your character is especially good at. These should give some insight into the backstory the Warden has deleted.

Personal Effect:
Yes, effect singular. The Warden tends to give Inmates a single item which they believe may inspire the Inmate when the going gets tough. What did he give your character?

Paradigm Shift: Agents of Fate

Anyone who happened to know the tongue of Istanbul would hear exactly what Siobhan was thinking of the patched-together, slightly rusted "vehicle" that sat before them. "They expect us to do our work in this piece of shit? I've seen lepers more held-together." Shaking her head, she would mount herself into the car, crank a window down and pull out a cigarette from her pocket, waiting a moment to ignore any potential objections before lighting it up, tapping the ash out of the side. "A bit of paint wouldn't solve the problems it has." She looked at where the younger woman; a girl really, had begun to scrawl on the window, unjudgemental in her gaze.

"If it gets us where we need to go, it'll work. I've been on a twinprop plane that had its fueselage held together with spot welding and duct tape, at least if this falls apart I'm not plummeting 30,000 feet." She coughed slightly at the dust that was being kicked up, and almost nervously held her cigarette outside of the window- at this point, she was pretty sure she risked igniting the air what with all of the particulates in it. "Besides, the sooner we're in, the sooner we come out."