Recent Statuses

3 mos ago
Current Wow. House of Leaves is overpowered.
4 mos ago
I love cyberpunk too much, and I'm finally GMing a cyberpunk RP. Come check all that juicy lore out!…
1 like
9 mos ago
As much as writers vilify the idea of any sort of formulaic approach to crafting a story, I'd highly recommend Vogler's The Writer's Journey to anyone struggling with a lack of ideas for a story.


𝔽𝕦π•₯π•šπ•π•šπ•₯π•ͺ: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒t π”Ύπ•’π•žπ•–

<<<ℍ𝔼𝕃𝕃𝕆 π•Žπ•†β„π•ƒπ”»...>>>

I am Opposition! If any of you want to do any sort of roleplay and want me to join, I'd be happy to listen to any ideas. I should be able to respond to activity on a near daily basis, but my posts often come at much longer intervals (every other day or something similar). PM at your will.

<<<β„‚π•¦π•£π•£π•–π•Ÿπ•₯ ℝ𝕠𝕝𝕖𝕑𝕝𝕒π•ͺ𝕀...>>>

The Last Embers --- Tatiana Leviatan : The Summoner

Sterling Heights Secrets --- Alice Weaver : The Outcast

Most Recent Posts

Is it possible to jump in? I know that might be tough considering the arc of the story, but figured I'd ask anyways

We're still open to applications until all the loose ends are tied up in the two current scenes.
Okay, [π”»π•–π•žπ• π•”π•£π•’π•”π•ͺ & π”»π•¦π•’π•π•šπ•₯π•ͺ] post is up! Here is where the future is in your hands. You can choose to pursue the machines, or give into Futility. Let me know if you have any questions. The post is a bit short, so I fear I may have been a bit nondescript when it comes to certain occurrences or future options.

In our current state, every player is now welcome to get posts out.
𝔽𝕦π•₯π•šπ•π•šπ•₯π•ͺ: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒t π”Ύπ•’π•žπ•–

𝕆𝕝𝕕 β„π•’π•šπ• π•Šπ•₯𝕠𝕑, β„™π• π•π•π•šπ•Ÿπ•˜ π•Šπ•₯𝕒π•₯π•šπ• π•Ÿ

β„•π• π•§π•–π•žπ•“π•–π•£ 𝟠π•₯𝕙, 𝟚𝟘𝟞𝟜 πŸ™πŸ‘:𝟚𝟘

[π”»π•–π•žπ• π•”π•£π•’π•”π•ͺ & π”»π•¦π•’π•π•šπ•₯π•ͺ], 𝔼𝕩𝕖𝕔𝕦π•₯π•šπ•Ÿπ•˜....

The echoic concrete walls seemed only to compound the sounds of delirium running rampant from the firefight behind the Old Rail Stop. Between screams, gunfire, and the banging of steel against steel as the kiosks were desperately forced towards the truck's compartment, it was hard to hear one's own thoughts. The sounds, however, were all drown out soon enough by the screech of tires skidding across the smooth and greasy floor of the once occupied station. Mackwell's supercar flew into view just fast enough for it to register in the Knight grunt's head before he found himself smashed by both the vehicle and the voting machine that separated them. It was clear he wouldn't be getting up anytime soonβ€” or ever for that matter. Another point to Mackwell, Cass, and Taryn.

This was the last thing the remaining Knights and worker goons needed, though. With no more working machines outside of the truck, nothing stopped the driver from clambering into the vehicle while the rest of the survivors remained distracted by the gruesome scene that just unfolded before their eyes in real time. "In the truck, now!"

Those few words emanating from the truck was all it took to launch the last remaining grunt into action. The horror on his face from watching his colleague crushed by the weight of the voting machine melted into determination and he abandoned his goal to fight off their attackers. Instead, the man soon joined one of his last living friends in the truck. As Cass combatted the original driver, he took the time in her moment's respite after reaching their luxury car to launch himself into the back of the truck. The sound of its massive engine revving to life was quite the opposite of Monica's smooth thrumming of electrical energy. The machines cylinders huffed and fired sporadically as the truck shifted gears. The wheels grinded to life as the truck jolted backwards in a three point turn.

As the Knight in the back clung to the truck's walls for dear life, he threw his other arm up to grasp at the hatch that kept him in sight of Campbell's campaign team. Their goal was becoming clear. The campaign team had to act quickly, but before they knew it the truck was speeding off. Cass jumped out from behind her cover to respond, but it was clear that she was too late. "Delilah, catch a signal off of it!" Cass's words were drowned out in the physical world by the roaring of the truck's engine as the vehicle shot towards its back alley escape route. Soon enough, though, she realized the Futility of her comment altogether. Her communicator was destroyed, and all lines to Delilah from each of the team members seemed silent. Had something gone wrong?

That was a less urgent question in the grand scheme of things. The crew could do little but watch as the truck began to peel away. They'd have to decide how important the voting machines were, and if they could catch the fleeing vehicle in the roads of the Reclaim...
I'm aiming to move scene #2 into its final phase today. After that is sorted out, everyone will have their last chance to continue with their current RP before new scenes arise, new players join, and Futility marches on without them.

Keep me updated on any extraneous concerns. We are on a good path to move forward.

Ordeals and Repeating Patterns...
Who could break the mold?

Alice hummed a low note as she pondered Augie's words, gaze shooting off into a distant cloud unseen to all outside of her imagination. The whole ordeal of homecomingβ€”the whole ordeal of secrets changing hands and the aftermath thereofβ€” brought something out in her peers. Alice could watch it happen. It had happened before with each prior secret revealed and it was happening now with Rob and his business with Ara. As of yet, Alice was uncertain of her feelings on the matter. It was all so confusing and hectic. She could never understand the rat-race that followed the exchange of secrets. Apparently, there was much more to it than she realized. For now, she could do naught but observe. That was her place.

Alice allowed the momentary silence born between her and Augie to permeate the room for a long while. She couldn't help but ponder the mental archive of those that had been outed with secrets thus far and those who had not. Alice and Augie were on the same side of the paradigm. She had to shake herself from her heavy thoughts as Augie questioned her. Had she appeared nervous? She tried to maintain ignorance to her own mannerisms, but that quickly melted away, and her blank and distant demeanor returned. She caught herself...

"Oh, I'm fine. Just... Not all that interested in the whole scene upstairs. It's a lot to deal with." When Alice had finally finished laying her canvas aside against an obscured shelf, she returned to clean the few supplies that remained out around the art room. It was as though she couldn't stop herself from perpetually continuing her duties even after hours. Perhaps it was more of a nervous thing, though. Alice, once again, wouldn't entirely be cognizant on the matter.

"They'll... Be alright, I think. This repeating process of secrets being traded... I don't think it will bother them forever." Alice maintained her distant trance-like gaze as she spoke, though as she took a long pause once again, her eyes finally flicked to Augie's own. "What do you think?" Alice pulled the canvas before her down from the easel, her mannerisms were nonchalant, though it seemed she was sure to maintain an angle where the subject matter portrayed in paint was obscured to all but her. Alice always was a shy one.

"Of the secrets. Of everything," Alice clarified. Perhaps she was fishing for answers to questions she wasn't entirely sure of. Either way, it seemed by the sincerity of her gaze that Alice's curiosity was genuine, and that was no common factor in conversations with the young artist. "Some may fragment," she repeated before continuing, "But what's it all for? The website... What do you think of it?"

Alice pondered the repeating pattern that seemed to trap Sterling High in a loop. She watched the effects, but none she had met could envision the cause. The whole secret revelations issue was a repeating pattern. The homecoming dance, its processes, and the whirlwind of emotions that followedβ€” a repeating pattern... Her confiding in Augie must have been telling, as her palpable confusion on the matter seemed to show a certain degree of naivety.
Just a bit of a heads up. I’ve cut my hand so it’s gonna take a while for me to type up my post.

No worries! I'm rather busy for the next few days, but I believe I'll be moving scene 2 into its final segment by Thursday. Then, you'll have to decide how important these voting machines really are.
Wowie. Coming back to this site after a very long hiatus. If I were to make a character, how much time would I have to work on them before missing that ideal time frame that you speak of? @Opposition

There will likely be at least a week or so before the prologue ends altogether, though new scenes will be created along the way. You've got plenty of time to make a character and can be introduced whenever it's finished. The ideal time frame would likely be the next two weeks. Feel free to direct any questions about the process to me either here or through PM.


I'm still trying to work on my post. Just have a bad case of writers block this weekend :(

I look forward to it. Take your time!
Futility is still looking for new players!

This may be the last ideal time to hop in for a while as we are in the process of concluding the prologue over the next week or two. Head to the OOC and put up a sheet if you're interested.
I kinda got caught up in playing around with the idea of Labyrinth there, but I hope that works for what Proctor needs to know. Let me know if you need more to proceed with Proctor, @Firecracker_. Otherwise, [π•Šπ•šπ•₯𝕦𝕒π•₯π•šπ• π•Ÿ β„•π• π•£π•žπ•’π•] is ready for completion. After which, we can shift the scene to a number of new ones depending on what your characters would like to do following these events. We can timeskip a bit as well as necessary.

For the moment, I encourage anyone who'd like a last word in that scene to get something going. After that, we can discuss options of what comes next.

I'll be pushing [π”»π•–π•žπ• π•”π•£π•’π•”π•ͺ & π”»π•¦π•’π•π•šπ•₯π•ͺ] forward into its final portion relatively soon, too, but I'll be pretty busy this weekend.

Also, Futility is still recruiting! Any watchers are welcome to bring new characters into the fray. This is probably the most ideal time to do so!
π•Šπ•¨π•’π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•Šπ•₯𝕣𝕖𝕖π•₯ β„‚π• π•žπ•žπ• π•Ÿπ•€
β„•π• π•§π•–π•žπ•“π•–π•£ 𝟠π•₯𝕙, 𝟚𝟘𝟞𝟜 πŸ™πŸ‘:𝟚𝟘

π•π•’π•”π•œπ•šπ•Ÿπ•˜ π•€π•Ÿ... >
π•ƒπ• π•’π••π•šπ•Ÿπ•˜ 𝕃𝕒𝕓π•ͺπ•£π•šπ•Ÿπ•₯𝕙... >

What separates reality from abstraction..?

Subjective power?

Information manifested as waves like Delilah Amano was nothing more than an extra current amongst the jolts of electricity courses through lines of transmitting data. As more and more nodes were picked up by her scanning pulses, the Labyrinth that surrounded Delilah only became more elaborate. She has a thousand choices of what leads to pursue and sift through. The titanic nature of the digital maze often struck her with awe, but Delilah didn't have time to waste now. In the masses of useless informational nodes that she found, Delilah could only hope to continue to expand her search across the zone, looking for any manner to help Mackwell, Cass, and Taryn as they dealt with whatever impending threats were imminent at the Old Rail Stop. Every so often, the trance-like focus of dancing through the cyberscape shattered from Delilah's mind, her attention instead drawn to an echoic voice booming in her surroundings.

"Well, thanks for the help, Amano. Too bad Matrix surfers such as yourself can't manipulate reality as you do the Labyrinth." Mackwell's words seemed to shake the very fabric of Delilah's simulated landscape. She didn't stop gliding through the virtual streams of information as she pondered his words, but she felt herself hesitate in responding. Of course, this hesitation was likely undetectable outside of Labyrinth, but eventually she offered a short comment in response. The static in Mackwell's helmet parted, but only for a moment to deliver one line in that resonant and mechanical voice that did its best to mimic Delilah's own voice through multiple conversions.

"Oh, what's the difference..." Just as her voice cut off the line once again, a new wave of nodes appeared on the horizon of the sea of white data contrasting the static sky of the cyberscape. Finally, some color offered respite to the netrunner's blinded sight. Delilah raced towards them, her formless shape gliding effortlessly along the Labyrinth's coordinates. It took only nanoseconds for her to reach and beginning scanning the vulnerable information that her spider scripts grasped throughout the city, but even in the minute time, Delilah realized something was off. A normally unnoticeable variable had changed in the time she arrived at the nodes. Their location was moving. More specifically, she noticed the three nodes that had appeared throughout the city at the same time had all been moving along the roads. They were vehicles of some kind, and Delilah's cyberdeck predicted that they all had the same destination.

"Iβ€” uh... There's a set of three vehicles in transit, predicted to be following a tracking chip inside whatever vehicle is nearest to Monica... That'sβ€”" This time, the static that usurped Delilah's voice was abrupt and clearly not meant to occur. The line between her and Mackwell had been severed entirely as Delilah's attention was redirected altogether. The Labyrinth that surrounded her began to quake as dozens of new alerts erupted around the city, most around or heading towards Central Square. "Oh shit," was all Delilah managed as she surfed through the nodes, first looking into the cameras around the venue and taking in the scenario.

Delilah had no idea how to react, but her her brain seemed to work autonomously in Labyrinth. That was why she was here and not back in the real world. Before she could even recognize what she was doing, Delilah was surfing Response Squad databases and triggering a false VIP-life support request. Help was on the way for her fallen boss, but Delilah couldn't help but feel dread in her stomach. Was that really all she could do? An alert crossed her vision that covered the cyberscape entirely. A danger warning prompted from her cyberdeck, alerting Delilah to a missile of some sort that impacted the suites as the assassin made his escape. Again, her attention was split away from the urgent scenario.

”Della, I’ve got a live one here. I managed to catch one of these Knights escaping with the crowds, and subdued him. He won’t talk to me, but he knows more than he lets on. I figure you could have a little fun digging around in his brain.” This time it was Richter Gamble's voice that boomed in the cyberscape.”What the fuck is even going on out there? Is this shit really happening?...”

"Campbell should have a jumper on him soon. I'm tracing the wireless signals in his cyberware now. Hopefully that'll tell us where he's headed..." Delilah paused, realizing that was not what Richter was worried about. Campbell had just stood out in her mind as a first priority. This job really was getting to her.

"The Knights? The Knights are assaulting the Rail Stop. Did Rott show up?" A mechanically distorted sigh escaped Richter's communicator. "Wait, you took a hostage? Yeah... Uhβ€”... I'll see what I can do." Those final words that escape the communicator seemed distant. The campaign's Labyrinth overseer was beyond frazzled as she extended herself between the number of tasks at hand, but then a moment of calm seemed to rush over her. There was a certain decisiveness that any successful netrunner needed. It separated the strong from the weak in the Labyrinth. In fractions of fractions of seconds, one's mind needed to be able to completely shift from one idea to the next. Delilah had become quite adept at acting as such a conduit of the flowing mind.

Her perspective began to change. Well, it was really more of a ripping or shattering of the conventional idea of perspective. Even in the hyperspeed that governed the cyberscape, one conscious wasn't enough. But could there even be something more than that? Delilah tried desperately to pull herself into more than one place in the Labyrinth's data mazes. Sweat poured from her limp body still trapped in reality.

Then, everything went dark.
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