pugbutter

[Closed]

I'm still here. Just can't start writing a story when we can't agree on the plot and we haven't designed any characters. Y'know?

Cyaиide Suиs

@Skepic He's on the other side of the Zone. 😂

@redbaron1234 Flattered! Thanks for pulling no punches about your activity rate, too. Maybe we'll see you in the distant future.

Cyaиide Suиs

Yep. Everyone has about 30 hours more to decide how they want to start the RP. As it stands I've only received info from people who will be in a village/hostel/bothy sort of area, so right now the GM post might be establishing only one scene.

Cyaиide Suиs

@Skepic She's accepted.

@Xandrya Thursday.

E:\cyberpunk\the_deadliest_question.exe

Terribly dejected, Jewel straightened out his posture, and took a few meek steps toward the door. It seemed to him too quick yet to apologize, so he reckoned he would do so later, when they saw each other at work. Until then, though, he accommodated her; he'd open the door, and operate the lift, and walk her to the car.

Indeed. He could blame the jet lag for his crankiness later. It was mostly true, after all. He did not want to whine about going back to work before he'd even gotten on another bus, clocked in for another slow, grueling day trapped within the blinding white walls. But beyond the excuses, he could only feel disappointment in himself; failure and defeat. He didn't think he tried to push people away, but that evidently was how it always turned out, nevertheless. Next time he wouldn't stand his ground so fiercely, he decided. Next time he would reach a place of compromise with Ona's ideas, instead of being sardonic and petty.

"Sure," he said, nodding. "Use the autopilot function, Ona. It's what it's there for. Just in case." He glanced toward the glass she had left behind. Half-full as it was, and skilled as she was behind the wheel, she didn't need to operate the thing while she was irritable and tipsy.

He didn't bother throwing a coat on; he hadn't yet taken his shoes off (perhaps to her chagrin), so he simply stepped outside and waited for her to follow suit; scanning the counter and the chair and the coffee-table for anything she might have left behind.

Cyaиide Suиs

@pugbutter Not going to lie, I'm kind of really tempted to do that now. And I mean, even if they had been living there for a year already, wouldn't they be suffering some sort of radiation poisoning?

@SilverFallen

Some materials absorb more radiation than others. Characters would be carrying gas masks mainly for the dust-storms kicked up by the wind in higher areas, but on the fringes of the Circle, especially where hills and mountains block the winds, it's not so bad. Whether you actually get fried or not will depend on carrying a Geiger counter and staying away from concrete, soil, scrap metal, and other areas and materials which were directly exposed. How bad the radiation is really depends on the character's skill level in avoiding it.

Being a hideous mutant underneath the gas mask would definitely give you bonus points for anti-Mary Suedom, if you decided to do that!

@Xandrya This is a Mention to let you know that you've been accepted, since I forgot to put one in the other post.

Cyaиide Suиs

Nothing to say other than "good job." Accepted.

ᚠᚨᚱᛋᛁᚷᛚᛁᛝᛋᚨᚷᚨ

The ship was pushed off the dock by the people on that side of the ship, which was crudely and haphazardly rowed out a few hundred meters. Hralding dropped anchor, and began to speak to the crew about the fine art of carving speed from the waves with these their wooden chisels; he explained that everyone needed to row in unison, totally synchronized and harmonious to each other. He began to teach them their first rowing song, which would help them keep the beat with each other as they sang it. The lyrics regarded a man who, knowing that his lord was wanted by the king for crimes unpunished, cut off his lord's head and delivered it to his king, and then had his own head cut off for treason against his leader. Both men's heads were hung beside each other from the same city gate. Some of the sailors knew the song already, and their eyes glazed over as the novices caught up to their expertise.

"It stops hurting after a week or two," Hrífa had said, though his own eyes had turned glassy long before these harangues began. He already knew how to sail, so he stared out disinterestedly over the vast, limitless horizon, wondering how far away was the edge of the world, and hoping perhaps to see a family of puffins darting around the rocks. Almost instinctively he rubbed his fingers together, and though he wore wool mittens, he knew his calluses had faded away long ago. He, too, would hurt. But it was a strangely soothing pain, a pain which spoke of the ship's progress. When a rower's hands seemed bitten by frost and friction, he knew he had worked hard that day. They were badges of honor, those patches of toughened skin.

Nevertheless he hoped for a blessing. His oar was to be rowed by a young girl; and though he was a man, he was a scrawny one, withered away in his solitude. Hrífa hoped the ship would not lean with their weakness. He looked behind himself again, wondering if their half of the crew would compensate. The wind felt good and strong but for their sail to capture it, and bloat with its whispers, its direction would need to shift westward a time.

Cyaиide Suиs

@pugbutter Question; can we have a character who already lives in the Zone or should they all be entering the Zone for their various reasons?

@SilverFallen

Are you willing to roleplay the medicinal and biological effects of being so close to the bomb when it went off? If so, yes!

(Unless you meant just having come here a year ago already. That's fine too.)

Cyaиide Suиs

@Xandrya@SilverFallenHello to you both, and welcome.