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It's amazing how many people don't understand the fourth wall.
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I love a good status bar dumpster fire.
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Our Slice of Life cooking contest has escalated into an Iron Chef style face off.
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Our Slice of Life game is having a cooking competition and it's pretty awesome.
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Continuity is King
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24 Hour Time Skip Warning

Short jump to THURSDAY . Thirsty Thursday + Sol Mates Special Event

Consider what your characters have been doing throughout the week following our last big event.
Any questions please let us know.

As always, if you feel that you are not ready to skip. PLEASE speak up!
Next skip is looking like we're headed to Thursday (IC). Since there's still a few interactions going on, we'll probably let this one run through the weekend before we post an official announcement.
Paige Kennedy & Milo Ventri

Dazed and exhausted, the images of her dream splintered and faded away as vividly as she had just seen them leaving only a feeling instead of a memory.

She hadn’t slept much and when sleep finally did come it was more of the body’s final surrender to an absolute need. Hours passed in silence as she stared at the ceiling or looked at her phone, anything just to take her mind off of what she and Tao uncovered at Luna Sports Facility. It was an impossible task. She knew it and she knew what was going to be the right thing to do, the thing that would make everything fall into place the way it should. In her years in law enforcement, she’d seen the same thing play out. People got greedy and stupid. Good people. She had laughed in amusement at the stories. All the old-timers said the same thing: Greed would get you killed quicker than a bullet. Still her mind wandered through the possibilities.

Wiping hair and sweat away from her eyes, she looked straight ahead at the end of the bed, feeling the weight of a tired, sunken scowl on her face. When she returned from LSF, she hadn’t said much to Milo and she knew she hadn’t been exactly pleasant either. Pulling herself up on her elbows and propping her upper body slothfully against the headboard, she felt like she had only picked up where her mind had left off, like television left on white noise. She sighed, hearing the sound of him tinkering in the shop. The sound of metalwork traveled easily through the converted living space. She hadn’t told him and if she wanted to be honest with herself, she knew the reason was because she was afraid.

Her stomach groaned suddenly with a pang of hunger and with some dogged energy she grudgingly tossed the heavy blankets aside and made her way to the kitchen. Nothing that he had was safe from her grasp and she rummaged through the pantry and cabinets without a second thought. Setting the toaster up and ramming down two slices of bread, she turned and leaned against the counter, looking over the living room outside at the rain covering the street and waterfront. She wiped a hand over her face. Another fucking shitty day in this shithole city. The thought that followed blasted through her groggy mind quicker than she had time to stop it, the same pattern that repeated all night: You now have the power to do something about it.

Joel Nicolosi

Joel very groggily rotated his feet to the floor rubbing one hand slowly over his face feeling the stubble of a day under his fingers. He glanced around, somewhat adjusted for the darkness, looking for his phone and that maybe it was on the nightstand, but no luck. His hand searched around nearly knocking over a lamp when he felt Siobhan shuffling beneath the covers. Her fingers eased up his arm as she crept over behind him and kissed his shoulder. She mentioned something about coffee and a shower to which he gave a slight chuckle. “I don’t think you ‘start the coffee’ here,” He said, having found his phone with his foot, tossed aside along with some of his other clothes from the night before. Her breath was warm against his shoulder as he glanced back in the dim light. He could just make out the grin on her face.

A light knock sounded at the door.

“You can go ahead and start that shower though,” He said, close enough to kiss her cheek, but pulling away to go to the door. His eyes had adjusted enough that he could see a path through the furniture. He yawned and scratched at his midsection, pulling his shorts up slightly before tripping over something unseen as he approached the door. He flipped the latch aside and turned the knob slowly to get a peek out into the hallway. A rather dapper looking server glanced back at him from the other side with a cart of covered dishes and a pressed pot of coffee that Joel could instantly smell. He didn’t remember ordering any room service, but he certainly wasn’t about to turn it away.

“Good morning, Mr. Nicolosi,” The young man said with a crisp sense of professionalism designed to make any guest feel like the most important person in the building. “Compliments of Mr. Hinkelstein.”

Joel cracked the door just enough to let the cart through catching a brief glimpse of the very posh room in the beam of light that cut through from the hall before closing the door and reaching for a small lamp he’d seen. The room glowed from the small light and he gave the tousled red hair and scantily blanketed figure of Siobhan a once-over before examining the contents of the cart. Among the covered dishes was a note and a bottle of Stroh 80. He opened the note to find a chicken scratch of hard-scribbled cursive that he had to look at carefully to read:

Wakey-wakey! Welcome to the land of awake! I’m sorry I could not stay to make everyone breakfast, must get back to Stuttgart! Remember, you come to Germany, I take care of everything, breakfast, lunch and dinner. You bring Siobhan and you want for nothing. My treat! We race again! I left a prize for first place luggage cart driver. You can put more than sugar in the coffee!

Best wishes,

Paige Kennedy & Milo Ventri

In the back of her mind she could hear Milo’s voice in rolling darkness. In an instant she was back in his shop with the gangster informant, Titus. The dim light bent obscure shadows over the old workshop as it cast over the profile of tools and unfinished metalwork. She watched how he worked over the poor man. From years of labor with his hands, Milo’s arm strength was nearly machine-like in its pure utility. The tension in his forearm smashed like a piston while the other gripped and pulled the deadweight of his target back into place as if setting a railroad spike to be driven. For a split-second she could see herself, watching, her face cold and unmoving in spite of the man’s pathetic pleas. Then she could see him again. The look on his face. Milo gleaned little enjoyment from he was doing. Later, when the adrenaline wore off, he would he reflect on himself harshly and question what he had done. Deep down he was a good person. As she watched his fist crash against Titus’ skull again, she felt nothing but satisfaction. Deep down, she knew she wasn’t so sure about herself.

The room was unnaturally quiet save for the sound of the scene in front of her and the increasing pounding of her own heartbeat as if the rhythm blended into her thoughts, growing with the tension in the room.The scene blended with a memory. She could remember how she had drawn her gun and fired before it happened. Simultaneously, she could see herself and she could feel the weight of Milo’s hammer in her hand as the words came, “That’s enough.”

Her hand moved just as swiftly as she remembered. Her pistol draw was as natural as a snap of lightning over the ocean. The weight of the gun and motion of the barrel rotating in her hand were something she had complete control. It was like magic to watch. The fluidity of the movement of the gun from the holster on her hip she could see herself looking down from behind the aligned sights; her hair moving in a breeze that wasn’t there. Snapping back into her own eyes, Titus was gone along with Milo and all of his shop. Sitting in the chair and staring back at her from infront of her gun was Ana.

”What are you doing, Paige?” Her voice was clearly nervous, but carried her familiar note of sincere concern. Her eyes looked up past the pistol and into Paige as if not even seeing the weapon pointed directly into her face.

For a moment it felt like she could feel her heart hit the inside of her chest and the sensation was so overwhelming, it was excruciating, like a wave of emotion that washed over her whole body and pounded down into the farthest reaches of her soul. The gun lowered slightly, but not all the way. She could still feel the weight of something in her other hand and she realized she had never tossed the hammer aside like in her memory. She looked down to see a withered bouquet dissipate out of her grip into dust. Around her, the sky was a solid overcast of gray clouds rolling with the wind of an approaching storm. Strands of loose blonde wisps danced over her eyes. Still her arm did not lower the gun. They were in the middle of nothing, just a large field of swaying grass with a single tree behind Ana. She could hear the wind swaying through the branches and moving the leaves. Time seemed to feel non existent as she looked at it, almost mesmerized by the sight. It was different somehow, like it didn’t belong, mossy and vibrantly green like something from a rainforest instead of the northwestern plains.

“Paige?!” Ana’s voice snapped with an audible tinge of anger. Her eyes were narrow, glaring up at her.

Paige looked back at her grimly. The sudden contempt in her friend’s voice igniting a wholly recognizable fire in her heart. The raw anger roared up through her heart and into her extended arm. As she felt herself pull the trigger, she snapped awake.
Joel Nicolosi

Eyes blinked open. The room was dark though gray hints of sunlight obscured by thick cloud traced around the border of heavy curtains. What sounded like a rumble of thunder rolled in the distance, but he wasn’t sure what direction he was facing. As his eyes strained to find focus, he could make out the shape of furniture throughout the room. It was a big room and smelled of lavender, vanilla and... coffee. A particular coffee that he was particularly well acquainted. He turned his head slightly seeing the outline of a feminine figure sleeping next to him rolled up in sheets and a comforter that felt like vapor from some Himalayan mountain village condensed into a fine linen set. He rolled his head back to look straight up at the ceiling. There was some sort of vaulted design to it that he couldn’t quite make out in his groggy mind as an old, but strangely familiar feeling crept into the whole of his skull: a hangover.

He groaned and rubbed his eyes with one hand which only seemed to intensify the feeling. With his regular tolerance, he could not remember the last time he even felt hungover, but the memories began to manifest slowly: They had left the park later in the evening. Bruno, true to his word wanted to cook for everyone. The city had reserved the Matthews Suite for him, the most luxurious room in the downtown Ritz and likely the most decadent suite available in the city. The German would accept nothing less. Joel couldn’t remember what he cooked other than it was some of the best food he ever tasted. The haughty chef had every ability to back up his scathing critiques. Somewhere along the line, the liquor came out and then the beer and a challenge was issued to the the Rebellion team- to which Joel’s formidable drinking abilities were revealed. However, Bruno and the other Germans from Porsche would not be denied. All of the alcohol in the suite was wiped out in the first hour.

More alcohol was summoned promptly.

They went and got more alcohol.

Shot for shot.

Beer for beer.

Das boot was brought out.

They couldn’t put him down.

Joel grinned through his aching head in the dark.

It went on for hours.

The suite became full of people and the power of the unplanned party exponentially grew as the music level increased like some Berlin rave club at 2am. The festivities spilled out into the hallway where a race on the luggage carts was hastily organized. As the main driver, it was Joel’s duty to pilot the Rebellion cart. Even though Bruno was by far the heaviest, he insisted on “driving” for Germany. He sat down in the low cart, knees folded at an angle to get onboard with a fine silver serving tray in his hands as a steering wheel. “Look at me! Fucking rally driver!” He howled and was handed a beer mug that he promptly downed without hesitation. “I sell fucking energy drinks! My name is Joel!” He turned the tray in his hands rapidly mimicking a steering wheel.

Joel placed one finger horizontally beneath his nose and offered a salute before mockingly goose stepping over to his cart.

“Oh, you motherfucker!” He heard Bruno guffaw. The hallway had become crowded with people on both sides howling with laughter.

Laying there in silence with his mind still mostly in a haze, Joel still couldn't remember all of the details, but that the race didn’t go far beyond the first bend in the hallway where Bruno’s cart promptly overturned along with its heavily intoxicated pushing crew crashing into the Rebellion effort in an obscenely shameful display of humanity- He hadn’t had so much fun in a long time.


Yes, it is Sunday IC. I just posted the new skip notice.

You wont see any exact dates or real world holidays referenced. We use a form of "hybrid time" that gives us enough flexibility to keep continuity in order.
Sunday Snoozeday


Sunday - Showers and Overcast - No Events

Food baby. Great food baby. Too much food baby. You have a food baby. You're not the only one.

Over did it? Ate so much you feel like you put on ten pounds and need pregnancy pants to feel comfortable with your late morning coffee?

Following on from the successful and widely popular Market Festival, the City is still lively as ever just feeling a few more calories heavier than normal. Remember to congratulate our winner Ryan Woods, the Asian Flavour Sensation of Sol on his victory in the Iron Cross... uhh Iron Chef Cook-off!

Enjoy a lazy Sunday in Sol City, walk off the half dozen deep fried Oreos you said you would never eat and relax or just spend some well earned time getting to know your duvet or cuddling your significant while watching the rain.

Please be clear with time and locations to avoid time conflicts with the other players

As always. Any questions or help required feel free to contact us in thread, PM or Discord. You could send a post owl, raven or the pony express but it might take a alittle longer.


SOL source of News since 1895

Latest News

Criminal Celoapod claimed to be omen by Cluthu Cultists

In a strange turn of events, the local Cult of Cthulhu have been seen claiming Inky escapes as the work of their god and an omen of things to come. Believing Inky is the avatar of their god, they have declared a crusade against the salmons to protect Inky and in their eyes, bring upon Sol City the Avatar of Cthulhu to bless the land with his many tentacled appendages.

Speaking for the cult, Chief of appendages and general management, Miles Barcley who greeted me in full regalia at the Sol City Temple behind the Pit Nightclub. "The escape of Inky was a sign, a Holy sign that the times of Cthulhu and his many tentacled glory approach. To the Salmons we say this, Inky shall complete his mission with our help, a crusade we declare against the hunters of our god's messenger. So be the will of Cthulhu... Our Holy cause to locate the most holy sunken city of R'lyeh will be achieved."

This reporter declined their offer of a fried shrimp barbecue afternoon, much as they seem polite, the cult of the old god's is a little unusual even for our varied and multicultural city. No formal comment was given by the Salmons but they seemed to merely grunt and claim that they faced worse than, "Jumped up Tentacle worshiping twats in robes. It's 2019, not 1019."

For nyone interested in the old gods, or just learning more about our City's more eccentric residents, can visit Chlu-Con going on next Sunday afternoon, with free literature and taster sessions available. Please arrive early as spaces are limited.

Lionel Lovecraft the 9th
Oddities and curiosities desk
Star messenger

Spring showers are here, expect rain and drizzle over the course of the day. Warmer air temperatures will bring passing thunderstorms and periods of heavy rain to the area.

Pack an umbrella, jacket or find a handy spot to shelter and smell the fresh rain smell as you enjoy another Sol Sunday.

For a more detailed and up to date report on the go, download our app, SOL CITY WEATHER 24/7 on most popular app stores.
My idea was to mainly have the characters lead seperate lives~
However they would live in the same house... would that be an issue?
I intend to have them venture out with others most of the time but occasionally they would banter when together.
In a way it would help other characters shed some insight into their personal lives and inner workings.
If this is an issue though feel free to let me know :)
No worries~☆

Ok, let's go with this. I'll nibble and say, Yes. I think we're all on the same page here about what is expected.

Also, you get points for being a Shine City refugee. I have a real good memory.

Just wait for one of the other GMs to approve.

24 Hour Time Skip Warning

Short jump to SUNDAY . Free Skip . Recovering from Festival Saturday

Consider what relationships your characters made and how that carried over into the following day.
Any questions please let us know.

As always, if you feel that you are not ready to skip. PLEASE speak up!
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