Room for one more?
I invited him here, btw, Sho.
Also, here's the OOC thread:
roleplayerguild.com/topics/189919-gen…
Letter Bee
Member
Filipino RPer
STATUS: Two days ago, Noble Arms is indisputably four years old, spread out across three threads, and the third thread is still ongoing and about to reach the endgame... 8 days ago
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- Joined: 13 yrs ago
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Username history
- Letter Bee 13 yrs ago
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CarteBlanche,
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Status
Recent Statuses
8 days ago
Current
Two days ago, Noble Arms is indisputably four years old, spread out across three threads, and the third thread is still ongoing and about to reach the endgame...
3
likes
19 days ago
Can't believe that I actually got an RP close to its endgame, btw...
4
likes
1 mo ago
Noble Arms is now either four years old, or three years and eleven months. The third thread had lasted for more than one year.
1
like
2 mos ago
New Interest Check, everybody!
2 mos ago
My Roleplay, Noble Arms: The ASEAN War, will reach its 4th year in June or July. It's been a long journey.
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Most Recent Posts
I invited him here, btw, Sho.
Also, here's the OOC thread:
roleplayerguild.com/topics/189919-gen…
The Fastest Gun in Uvera
Flashback - Two Weeks Ago
They knew the risks; his gang could not afford to antagonize the Walton Government and the Sand King at the same time. But Al-Marabar's slavers had proven to be insolent and intrusive and more importantly, bought Uveran lives for bargain prices. If this slave trade grew enough to be recognized, if the Walton Government decided that the disappearance of the occasional Waltonian was a fair enough price to pay for getting rid of 'savages and troublemakers', then their gang's cause would be in massive trouble.
And so they had struck, ambushing slaver caravans, assassinating slave traders and their collaborators, and protecting Uveran villages and the odd Waltonian town from raiders. Ken Cooper, being Half-Waltonian himself, had been useful in brokering deals with law-abiding citizens and fellow outlaws alike to humiliate the slavers.
Which led to his bounty being raised by another ten thousand coins. This led to Howling Brook, his superior in the gang, selling him out for that amount of cash. Now he was holed up alone in an abandoned Waltonian farmstead, facing a small army of Al-Marabar Slavers with his trusty guns, a cylinder of Dendro Gunpowder, and a bag of... potatoes?
"You'll never take me alive!" he shouted at the posse shooting at him through the farmstead main house's windows, throwing a potato that liquified and exploded into a sleeping mist at the foes, allowing him a brief opening to fire four headshots at the slavers' goons; the sand pirates were throwing their own people at him, too proud to just hire locals with more experience with his tactics - Fools, the lot of them.
Some ways to his right, he could hear the thud of axes against the home's main door; even the tables and chairs he had used to barricade it would not stand the blows from such weapons forever. So he loaded some Dendro Gunpowder into his pistols and shot at the barricade; the points where the bullets hit bloomed with green, thick vines. That ought to delay those goons for a good long while yet. Not that help will come; Howling Brook's treachery was not known... Yet.
He threw another potato through the windows, repeating his trick of turning plant matter into bombs that also doubled as sleeping gas or healing spores. He realized too late that the slavers had gotten much closer while he was strengthening the barricaded doors and that they were wearing their bandanas on their faces to avoid breathing in the gas. As he ducked beneath a hail of rock bullets, he knew that despite his bravado, he would be taken alive.
Nevertheless, Ken kept on fighting, blowing open a couple of slavers' heads and causing their place to be taken by small trees. Then a loud explosion came from the kitchen where he had taken the bag of potatoes from, and armed men and women began pouring in, laying down suppressive fire as their bravest folk made to grab him for captivity...
Present Day
And here he was, in the dungeons of Great Sandship of Zweidaya, about to have his first fight in the arena. His coat and his guns had been taken away, although he had been allowed to keep his Vision Crystal - A fat lot of good that did him without any living plant matter; even the smallest seed. Heck, they made sure any potatoes were cut up and stewed before serving them as part of his gruel. Assholes.
As the eighteen-year-old's door opened and he was walked to his first fight, the young man had the temerity to request, "I don't want my shirt or undershirt to be stained with blood, can I take them off before I fight? Besides, I'm eighteen, already an adult, so there's nothing improper about it while I'm fighting."
His request was granted, and that was how Ken Cooper, Fastest Gun in Uvera, was fighting bare-chested like a traditional gladiator, wielding only two 'Geo Pistols' given to him before the start of the bout, trying his damned best to survive and even give these pricks a good show - After all, who knows, maybe he can catch the Sand King's eye...
@Sho Minazuki
Foreshadowing Post (Relevant for the Next Mission)
Mischief Reef, Philippine Exclusive Economic Zone, South China Sea
To some, the morning of the Lingayen invasion was little different from any other. The Chinese garrison stationed on the artificial atoll of Mischief Reef was on guard, as it had been for months. Important officers and Arms Masters had come and gone over time, and now, they were all gone. It was as good a reason as any to stay on alert.
What eventually disturbed the garrison was not a discovery made by their air patrol or guard towers. A patrol boat picked up an abnormality on sonar. The radio communications were quiet and confused at first: this wasn’t a submarine and wasn’t a person. It was like - a huge bubble of some kind?
Then the boat stopped responding to questions. As if to fill the silence, Command started shouting. Arms Master - there’s an Arms Master approaching. It was foolish to assume anything less than the worst when faced with this kind of anomaly. Naval vessels were ordered to stay clear, and instructed that they would be attacked if they approached without immediate ID. Men were ordered to watch the direction of the vanished vessel, eyes were strained to the waves, and the onsite sonar system was studied with utmost care.
There it is. That bubble - it’s getting closer.
And then it was gone. Everything was gone. The sonar went blind.
The officers raced in circles, communicating in hurried Mandarin with mainland command. The patrol boats held their position in frightened silence. The soldiers of Mischief Reef checked their weapons and held their breath. Minutes passed.
A space began to open between the ocean and the shore. Emerging from the space - a chariot cavalry charge.
“Terracotta!” screamed a sergeant. “Xian Zhou!”
“QRS!” translated the commanding officers on their mainland line. “Xian Zhou is attacking!”
Horses wrought from clay crested the shore, some pulling clay chariots loaded with clay soldiers, their very real rifles barking and blazing at the Chinese forces. The battle was harried, disorganized, breathless, and embarrassingly quick - nothing so much like the reckless and bloody cavalry charges of movies, rather than the distant and careful engagements of modern conventional warfare. The army of terracotta swarmed over the beach ignorant of their own casualties, seeking only the blood of their enemies until the gunshots slowed to a stop.
Three humans, flanked and followed by hundreds of clay men on foot, emerged from the waves and looked over a scene of carnage. A whispered conversation passed among them, then, at a word from a young white-haired boy, the soldiers fanned out and began picking through the bodies. Wherever they found a man still living, they stopped and stood over them, rifles raised and aimed.
The last word the mainland received from Mischief Reef was that it was lost. Then there was shouting, directed elsewhere - two final, ominously close shots came through - and silence.
A younger boy, whose black hair almost looked blue thanks to the light reflected from the silks he was wearing, then stepped forward, accompanied by a larger, more muscled figure who had already unfurled a golden spiked banner.
“We’ve seized the reef while the communists are busy with their invasion,” the smaller figure said. “Have our prisoners interrogated as to the location of the usurpers’ navies in the region; to prove our usefulness to our allies, we’re hitting them with tsunamis over the next seven hours while Ren Zhao protects us from their ballistic missiles. But first...”
Another banner was raised over the base, the banner of the House of Aisin Goro, better known as the Qing Dynasty of China. In this one small corner of the territory, the Chinese Monarchy had been restored.
@SkyHresvelg@The World@Chiro@Aisede@MagusDream@Lewascan2@Sniblet@Conscripts@Gerlando@Creative Chaos@Nimbus@The Man Emperor@KaiserElectric @Landaus Five-One
Mischief Reef, Philippine Exclusive Economic Zone, South China Sea
To some, the morning of the Lingayen invasion was little different from any other. The Chinese garrison stationed on the artificial atoll of Mischief Reef was on guard, as it had been for months. Important officers and Arms Masters had come and gone over time, and now, they were all gone. It was as good a reason as any to stay on alert.
What eventually disturbed the garrison was not a discovery made by their air patrol or guard towers. A patrol boat picked up an abnormality on sonar. The radio communications were quiet and confused at first: this wasn’t a submarine and wasn’t a person. It was like - a huge bubble of some kind?
Then the boat stopped responding to questions. As if to fill the silence, Command started shouting. Arms Master - there’s an Arms Master approaching. It was foolish to assume anything less than the worst when faced with this kind of anomaly. Naval vessels were ordered to stay clear, and instructed that they would be attacked if they approached without immediate ID. Men were ordered to watch the direction of the vanished vessel, eyes were strained to the waves, and the onsite sonar system was studied with utmost care.
There it is. That bubble - it’s getting closer.
And then it was gone. Everything was gone. The sonar went blind.
The officers raced in circles, communicating in hurried Mandarin with mainland command. The patrol boats held their position in frightened silence. The soldiers of Mischief Reef checked their weapons and held their breath. Minutes passed.
A space began to open between the ocean and the shore. Emerging from the space - a chariot cavalry charge.
“Terracotta!” screamed a sergeant. “Xian Zhou!”
“QRS!” translated the commanding officers on their mainland line. “Xian Zhou is attacking!”
Horses wrought from clay crested the shore, some pulling clay chariots loaded with clay soldiers, their very real rifles barking and blazing at the Chinese forces. The battle was harried, disorganized, breathless, and embarrassingly quick - nothing so much like the reckless and bloody cavalry charges of movies, rather than the distant and careful engagements of modern conventional warfare. The army of terracotta swarmed over the beach ignorant of their own casualties, seeking only the blood of their enemies until the gunshots slowed to a stop.
Three humans, flanked and followed by hundreds of clay men on foot, emerged from the waves and looked over a scene of carnage. A whispered conversation passed among them, then, at a word from a young white-haired boy, the soldiers fanned out and began picking through the bodies. Wherever they found a man still living, they stopped and stood over them, rifles raised and aimed.
The last word the mainland received from Mischief Reef was that it was lost. Then there was shouting, directed elsewhere - two final, ominously close shots came through - and silence.
A younger boy, whose black hair almost looked blue thanks to the light reflected from the silks he was wearing, then stepped forward, accompanied by a larger, more muscled figure who had already unfurled a golden spiked banner.
“We’ve seized the reef while the communists are busy with their invasion,” the smaller figure said. “Have our prisoners interrogated as to the location of the usurpers’ navies in the region; to prove our usefulness to our allies, we’re hitting them with tsunamis over the next seven hours while Ren Zhao protects us from their ballistic missiles. But first...”
Another banner was raised over the base, the banner of the House of Aisin Goro, better known as the Qing Dynasty of China. In this one small corner of the territory, the Chinese Monarchy had been restored.
@SkyHresvelg@The World@Chiro@Aisede@MagusDream@Lewascan2@Sniblet@Conscripts@Gerlando@Creative Chaos@Nimbus@The Man Emperor@KaiserElectric @Landaus Five-One
@QJT, Draft Post Approved.
Spoiler Info for Future Co-GMs - Applies to RPs set during and after 2019
-Ask in DMs if you get a Co-GM spot-
Noble Arms Public NPC System
For players who want to move the plot, but whose current PC is out of commission, I am testing out a Public NPC System where players can take control of pre-made NPCs with GM Permission (or are asked by the GM to 'test out' the NPCs) so they can keep playing. Not only that but players who already have a PC can submit Public NPCs for the GMs to approve, on the condition that once they are, anyone can use them even without them having to personally give their permission - It comes with submitting a Public NPC in the first place.
NPC Template:
-Ask in DMs if you get a Co-GM spot-
Noble Arms Public NPC System
For players who want to move the plot, but whose current PC is out of commission, I am testing out a Public NPC System where players can take control of pre-made NPCs with GM Permission (or are asked by the GM to 'test out' the NPCs) so they can keep playing. Not only that but players who already have a PC can submit Public NPCs for the GMs to approve, on the condition that once they are, anyone can use them even without them having to personally give their permission - It comes with submitting a Public NPC in the first place.
NPC Template:
[center][b]Appearance:[/b]
(Optional; Picture Preferred.)[/center]
[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Antagonist, Friendly, or Neutral:[/b]
[b]Arms Master:[/b] Y/N
[b]Noble Arm Rank:[/b]
[hider=Insert NA rank here]
Power: The pure energy the NA can exert (offensively/defensively/healing/etc).
Speed: How fast the power responds to the user and takes effect.
Range: How far-reaching the abilities are (potential fallout included). Along with Power, we will be paying special scrutiny to NAs that are high in this stat and especially in both at once.
Persistence: Stamina toll on the user. Higher rank = more ease of use.
Precision: How surgically (or clumsily/indiscriminate) the NA performs.
Potential: Power's flexibility for creative use and evolution.
[/hider]
[b]Noble Arm Abilities:[/b]
[b]Brief Description:[/b] (Include a brief description of who the NPC is, where he comes from, and his official and unofficial jobs and how they involve the PCs.)
[b]Disposability:[/b] (1 is ‘can be killed easily as though they were a nameless goon’, 10 has plot armor [i]almost[/i] equivalent to a PC and is very hard to end permanently.)Past Lore - Organizations active before 2019
Misc Lore - Present Day
Misc Lore - Present Day
Main Lore - 2022
(Might be Retconned Out.)
(Might be Retconned Out.)
General Lore - 2022
In the twilight of World War II, the Computer Scientist Alan Turing invented an 'Occult Programming Language' that made magic real. The most common form that 'magic' took was the Noble Arm, which was the ability to conjure up a supernatural weapon that can defy the laws of physics, a weapon bound to the user’s mind and soul; summoned by their will into reality. For reasons that are still unexplainable despite years of research, Noble Arms mostly take the form of weapons from before the First World War (things have started to change, but only because more weapons have grown obsolete since then), however, despite the antiquity of these forms, the power they bear to the battlefield is unlike anything modern technology has been able to produce.
All of these powers, and more wondrous and terrifying abilities, come with Noble Arms. Thus, the ones who bear them, the Arms Masters, are sought after by countries all around the world. Where once the strength of a country was decided by the technological strength of its Army, it is now judged by the power of its Arms Masters.
But this state of affairs has produced sadness and strife; the world was just not prepared for the possibility of superhumans, people who just by existing, challenge the notion of equality between men. And so Arms Masters and Normal Humans lived in an uneasy state of coexistence, with radicals on both sides wishing to shatter the peace and dominate one another.
Then, in the early decades of the 21st Century, from the years 2019 to 2022, the status quo shattered again, with three groups of beings, only one of them claiming to be part of Humanity as it is now, manifesting the ability to give Noble Arms to those who once lacked them, albeit under conditions which appeal only to the desperate. These factions, known as “The Big Three”, are:
Their machinations have swept the old divisions out of the water, destroying the fragile order of the world as apocalyptic warfare breaks out all over it...
In the twilight of World War II, the Computer Scientist Alan Turing invented an 'Occult Programming Language' that made magic real. The most common form that 'magic' took was the Noble Arm, which was the ability to conjure up a supernatural weapon that can defy the laws of physics, a weapon bound to the user’s mind and soul; summoned by their will into reality. For reasons that are still unexplainable despite years of research, Noble Arms mostly take the form of weapons from before the First World War (things have started to change, but only because more weapons have grown obsolete since then), however, despite the antiquity of these forms, the power they bear to the battlefield is unlike anything modern technology has been able to produce.
- Some can manipulate the elements to the user's will.
- A few can reduce matter down to atoms in seconds.
- The rarest of all have the strength to withstand the explosion of a nuclear missile.
All of these powers, and more wondrous and terrifying abilities, come with Noble Arms. Thus, the ones who bear them, the Arms Masters, are sought after by countries all around the world. Where once the strength of a country was decided by the technological strength of its Army, it is now judged by the power of its Arms Masters.
But this state of affairs has produced sadness and strife; the world was just not prepared for the possibility of superhumans, people who just by existing, challenge the notion of equality between men. And so Arms Masters and Normal Humans lived in an uneasy state of coexistence, with radicals on both sides wishing to shatter the peace and dominate one another.
Then, in the early decades of the 21st Century, from the years 2019 to 2022, the status quo shattered again, with three groups of beings, only one of them claiming to be part of Humanity as it is now, manifesting the ability to give Noble Arms to those who once lacked them, albeit under conditions which appeal only to the desperate. These factions, known as “The Big Three”, are:
Their machinations have swept the old divisions out of the water, destroying the fragile order of the world as apocalyptic warfare breaks out all over it...
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