ProPro — Roleplayer Guild

<Snipped quote by ProPro>

I think Sho can attest to the effectiveness of the following system that I use in all of my RPs, the use of which I advocate here: 

Expected activity level is multiple posts per week.  One is permissible if there's no alternative.  If someone isn't going to be able to post for a couple days, notification of such is very much appreciated.  If a person doesn't post for one week, and doesn't give any notification, they're subject to a mandatory affirmation call and have a day to respond.  If the roll call is failed, the person in question is kicked out.

That might seem strict, but really it's very easy.@Lugubrious

Not strict at all. Pretty lax actually. Thanks for addressing my question. I'll be working on getting a character up soon. Not certain if I'll take the open demon hunter or Gilgamesh spot, but I've got my eye on them.

Foreman Jo'ones recoiled once Ruth slapped him across the face. If reptiles could bruise, he'd have a real nasty shiner right now. The look on his face said it all. The shock, the confusion, the fear, he was not used to being treated this way. His misfortune was not yet over, as the imposing android Adelram Drax stepped forward, looming over him, and fulfilled the commands of his mistress. The lizard man looked like he was about to shake in fear, but was able to compose himself.

"Yes, ma'am," he acknowledged to Ruth. "I will ensure that the workers are more productive and efficient immediately. Is that the entirety of your reason for visiting today?"

Jo'ones stood at attention like a proud military man. In fact, he used to be. Prior to becoming the foreman of Red Rock, he was a member of the Galatec Fighter Battalion. If the entire division hadn't been shut down due to the development of cloned githkin soldiers, he would still be a proud soldier within the corporation.

The assistants did their best to ignore what was happening around them, choosing to focus instead on their work. They plugged away at computer consoles, directing various bits of machinery and workers in the most efficient manner they could. Break time had come up five minutes ago, but there was no way they were taking a break while the regional manager was visiting, much less in the same room as them.

Everything appeared to be in order on the viewing screen. The slav-er, that is, employees were hard at work. Most were glad to donate their blood, sweat, and tears without any external motivation. A very very small and select few happened to be in chains and receiving regular whippings by the githkin that watched over them. These employees were not quite as productive, but they did well enough.

"Yes, this really is finally happening," the mentor spoke with an air of relief. He stood from the work bench and placed the red photon morpher within a protective case, then sealed it in. Then he carried the precious weapon to a table which held the other 5 morphers, each in their own protective cases, and set it down next to its brothers.

"They may not be the most ideal heroes we could find," he said, turning to look at Samara and help ease her doubts. "But they are the heroes we need. At least, I hope they are. If any of them choose not to help, then we will send them back with the Refraction Displacement System, no harm done. It's not like they could report where we are if any prove to be hostile! Hahaha."

He made his way past Samara to a computer console. Sitting down, he began to access some of the security camera footage in the Red Rock facility. Flipping about from camera to camera, he stared at the various screens, trying to locate something.

"Necessity first, comfort second," he called back in response to his assistant's complaining about the heat. "Samara, I can't locate them on the cameras. You have those trackers active? If we can't see them, we can activate the Displacement System!"

Michael made his way through some dark, dangerous mine. At first he was surrounded by plenty of company. Other workers toiled away, githkin watched over them. A few githkin tried to give him trouble, but a single look at his orders and they quickly stepped aside. If it weren't for the fact that this was a hellish hole in the ground where people came to work themselves to death, Michael might have mistook this for some kind of VIP treatment.

After several minutes of navigating the tunnels, the population thinned out. No longer were there any workers. No longer were there any githkin watching over his every move. There was only rock, darkness, and Michael. The map became significantly more difficult to read as the lights in the area had burned out long ago. Something felt strange. The tunnels and equipment here were all old. Why would he be told to find new paths and ore veins in an old, unused tunnel?

It all came to a head when Michael came across a mine shaft with a large, rusted, sealed door. There was no doubt about it, the map told him to keep going. Now how was he going to get passed this big sealed door?

Singing together made the work go by faster, that it did. The githkin didn't seem to mind either. Maybe so long as it didn't interfere with production, they didn't care. Maybe they enjoyed the song too. Maybe it didn't even register in their tiny brains. Regardless, the two were free to sing through their shift and lift their spirits.

By the time they had gotten to 117 piles of rocks, Tommy found something very pretty. Very valuable. Absolutely fantastic! He got through the tunnel to a small opening and inside the crevice sat a piece of glowing red ore. It was the size of a basketball! Absolutely huge! Only problem was how heavy it was. There was no way that Tommy was getting that big honkin' piece of oranium out of the opening by himself, and Oliver was too big to get through. Digging through the rock would take forever! They only had one option, and that was to request the use of heavier digging equipment. Maybe some blasting sticks, or an ion drill, or hell maybe one of those slave driving githkin could just punch the rock. They were strong enough.

Meanwhile, Oliver caught sight of something interesting of his own. A single githkin patrolled through the tunnels, carrying with it a young boy no older than Oliver himself. The boy was badly beaten, exhausted, and likely on the verge of death. Still, the githkin carried the boy by his collar, dragging him along the ground when the creature was strong enough to lift the boy comfortably. This githkin was unique among its peers, as it wore a sash over its shoulder, and had a long scar across its face.

If spiders could talk, then this one would thank Jonah for his kindness. After all, it was only trying to make a living by eating pests. Really, it was one of the hardest workers in this whole damn mine. If anyone deserved a promotion, it was Mr. Legs, right? Well clearly Shplorn didn't feel that way, but she fell for Jonah's slight of hand all the same.

"Huff... Puff... Thank you, Mr. Fallen. You've saved my life yet again. I will see to it that you get a promotion, yes I will!" She attempted to catch her breath, recovered from hyperventilating, and recomposed herself before addressing Clementine. "Yes yes, I see you have an eye for detail. Miss Mayweather, I can tell that you will do a fantastic job. You have free reign to conduct your audits with my full authority."

Indeed Clementine did catch quite a few details that the layman would have missed. Most of it seemed to be missing wiring and computer supplies, but the list also included unaccounted for blasting supplies, food and water rations, and power packs. Yet the biggest discrepancy did appear to be a drill that had gone missing for about two weeks before mysteriously showing up again in the vehicle dock. Most peculiar.

"Mr. Fallen, I fear I may have tired myself. I shall go take a rest in my personal quarters. While I do so, I would like you to extend your protection to Miss Mayweather while she conducts her business here." Shplorn gave the smallest hint of a smile to the two as she spoke, then stood up and squeezed her way to the door, then vanished around the corner.

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Pierce the Heavens with your spoon!

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