RickyG85

Space story concept!

Hmmm... an improv heavy story, eh? I think I like the sound of it

Night Terrors- A Modern Horror RP

Brand pounded at the door, getting irritated. “Come on, if you won’t keep a listed phone number, at least answer your door!” He didn’t like the look of this place. He’d busted into places like this, but based on his file with the local police, at least this ‘Ozzie’ character wasn’t the sort to have dogs, or traps.

After a moment of silence, he began pounding a fifth time, and shouted, “Mr. Shaw? Please, if you’re home, you’re not under arrest, but I need to talk to you; this is Agent Brand, with the FBI! We-” He glanced when he noticed someone, a local, he figured, walking by and just shaking their head as they watched him, seeing them mouth the words, ‘fuckin’ stoners..’ “We met briefly yesterday evening, do you remember? Mr. Shaw, it’s urgent that I speak to you, and as soon as possible!”

---

At the crime scene, MacPherson was talking with the deputy, behind the tape, but his back to the body. “I agree, Deputy, this looks a lot like those missing animals and cattle, but, I'm not so sure this is an animal, now…”

“So, you agree with Mr. Fancy-Pants, now?”

“There’s no need to be hostile, deputy; he’s been nothing but professional, here.

"Evidence thus far does not point to a mere animal attack, Deputy. I may not be a wildlife expert, but I know how to read toxicology reports, and there is nothing in this area that is both possessed of ‘necrotoxin’ venom, and capable of doing… That… to a dog, nevermind anything like this…”

“So, you think, what? Some kind of sicko? A serial killer, here, in Nowhere?”

MacPherson raised an eyebrow, “You pay me a great compliment, Deputy, to think I’m such an expert, but, no; I think this is more inline with my actual skill set. I think what we’re looking at is certainly a deranged mind, but directed in the interest of their own imagination- a hoax, a dark sense of humor that’s gotten… Out of hand. Still, you should intensify safety measures; maintain the curfew, of course, but nobody should go anywhere alone, this-” He nodded to the crime scene, “Represents a radical shift; the killer, for lack of a better word, has broken away from the primary affected area, that’s why we couldn’t find anything during our stake out at the McColm place! The culprit knew better than to be where they’d already drawn too much attention.”

The deputy tried to keep his cool, but was very nervous, and trying to calm himself as he replied, “Well, that’s good, right? It sounds like, uh, we spooked ‘em?”

Another nod to the crime scene, “Does that look anything like the work of a prankster who’s feeling discouraged? If anything this is worse; good god, man, it’s a radical escalation! We can’t prove who or what chased the McColm girl into the river, but this is absolutely our culprit’s work! This could happen anywhere, now, to anyone!” He was raising his voice now, “And frankly I’m getting a little tired of your attitude, it-” He glanced up, having caught a glimpse of something on the roof, was that… That red head he saw with Brand, last night? “… It’s enough to consider filing a complaint.” Some people in crime scene gear showed up, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, the experts are here, I’m sure you won’t mind if I go and do what I can to be helpful. Let me know if you come up with suspects.” And with that, he began to walk away.

“Any other brilliant suggestions, big shot, private eye?” The deputy was being defensive, his pride wounded, perhaps.

MacPherson didn’t let it get to him, glancing toward the rooftop again, “Road blocks.”

“Road Blocks?”

“Yes. Nobody without a badge get’s in, or out of town, that’s my recommendation at this point.”

---

At the diner, Old Man McColm stood next to Johnny, greeting him. “Top o’the mornin’, boyo. I appreciate your willin’ness to help me, and it means a lot that you believe me- say, where’s your friend? The native boy?” He looked at the door when the bell rang, seeing Sid walk in and flagged him down. "Ah, over here, you just made it!"

Night Terrors- A Modern Horror RP

btw, everybody get's awarded an additional point to their Odds; you might be needing them soon >:)

... That, and I wanted to remind you all that the mechanic was still there and served a purpose

Neptune Experiment

He peaked out from under the blanket, "Uh, I'm not sure I understand the question?" He stared at her shirt for a moment, "So, you're #002, huh? What'd they put in you? Or the rest of you, for that matter? I understand they're throwing a whole aquarium of dna into this project, hard as that is to believe..."

Without thinking he made a mental note, quickly deciding #002 wasn't a threat- the others, they gave him a bad feeling. A moment and he was asking himself why, but he couldn't put it into words.

Neptune Experiment

Dustin woke up in a tank full of sea water. He was confused at first, when he realized he was breathing sea water, and not dying! In fact, he felt fairly comfortable-

Hey, I'm not dead! They- they told the truth!

He laughed as best he could as the water started to drain, but once he began to settle and support his own weight, he started to feel... Not quite pain, but more than mere discomfort. He hurt all over, and was feeling stiff, as if he'd been cramping all over, especially his feet and hands. He must have looked odd, grimacing and laughing at the same time, while coughing up sea water.

He could feel the difference inside his lungs, now, of breathing strictly gaseous atmosphere, and frankly, he wanted to get back in the water. Dry- too dry he kept thinking to himself, and I'm exposed, it's too bright out. Ugh, I just want to curl up under a blanket or and wait until it's dark or something..

The tank opened up, and he cautiously crept out. "Glad to see you up and about, Mr. waters." He jumped, turning to face the scientist, crying out briefly as he did, and throwing his arms out to his sides. He lowered his arms as he calmed down, and the scientist raised an eyebrow. "And that you... Were... In better spirits, since undergoing the procedure. How do you feel?"

"Well, besides you damn near giving me a second heart attack- dick move, by the way- I'm glad to not be dead, but I kind of... Hurt all over, man.. Is that normal? Anybody else feeling like they're outgrowing their own skin?"

The scientist didn't respond, but took notes. "Hm. Could you be more specific?"

Rusty heaved a sigh, "Um... I have a feeling all over, like... like the soreness you feel, recovering from a really bad sunburn? All over, man." He gestured to his whole body.

"Interesting... Anything else?"

"Yeah, my hands and feet hurt, like, I've been having really bad cramps or something."

"Hm... Well, I'm sure you'll be alright; this doesn't sound too serious, but, do let us know it it gets any worse, or new issues come up. We'll be keeping an eye on you, in any case. I'm sure you're feeling cold, we've got something warmer for you."

an assistant handed him the sweat suit, and he grimaced and groaned the whole time getting into it. Across his chest was "Subject #003".

He was getting more anxious as they stood there. "Can we... Can we get me somewhere not so wide open, already?"

Another curious look from the scientist, "Mr. Waters, do experience 'agorophobia'? something like that would have been useful to include in your psychological profile, beforehand-"

"-I don't need a shrink, just get me out of this room, ok!?"

The scientist smirked, and remarked sarcastically, "Oh, getting agitated? None of you have done that, yet." He gave a little laugh to himself, "Try to relax, Subject #003; my assistant will lead you to the common room, and your living quarters. No need to be..." He gave a grin, " 'Crabby'."

What? Oh, right; they hadn't lied, after all- I'm part Blue Crab, now. "Ugh, screw you, man." With that, he followed the assistant to his room, first.

He had a look in a mirror, and heaved a sigh examining the side of his neck. Yep. Still there. He was talking about the tattoo that had been involuntarily applied, to mark him as a prisoner that wasn't getting out. Maybe I can ask them to remove it? He picked up a blanket from his cot, wrapping in it. He started to relax, feeling cozy, and glad the barcode was hidden, now. He decided to go spend some time in the common room, and maybe meet some of the others?

Upon entering the common room, though, he started to feel anxious again, and instead walked over to sit in a darker corner, takign a furniture cushion with him, more or less hiding under the blanket and sitting on the cushion. He spoke out, muffled, "... Hi, I'm #003, apparently, nice to meet you all... Call me Rusty, or don't. Whatever."

"The Scroungers"

here's some suplementary material for this, as in the past I'd had ideas about doing more with it as a story or series of stories.

---

I referenced Mantis, Cockroaches, Termites and Devils’ Coach-Horse Beetles for the design. One original anatomical element I added that isn’t really shown, is a pair of fully prehensile tentacles, retracted and hidden under the small plate just above the foremost legs. They use them to manipulate objects with similar skill to cephalopods on Earth. They also have some major traits in common with Water-Bears(Tardigrades, which are micro-organisms); they can basically live anywhere.

The Scroungers are, within my story, here on Earth quite by accident.

They like to travel, and explore, and are in the habit of observing their subjects from hidden positions. Leaves, old logs, rocks, pretty much anything they can wriggle into (which is a lot, since, like roaches, they can flatten their bodies almost completely). If need be, they can even gather materials and stick them to their bodies using a natural sort of adhesive they produce (like termites, or spiders).

Well, Earth presented a unique situation for one scouting mission- the Scroungers have never encountered other intelligent life before, and they have no idea how to proceed. The current plan was standard; find a new world to explore, probe to evaluate how dangerous it might be, then send a report and wait for permission to begin full operations. Having never encountered alien intelligence’s, they now have no plan to fall back on.

They manage to send this news to the home world, but something happens that, ultimately, forces them into a crash landing on Earth (thankfully having missed most of our satellites and only causing brief blinks on our means of detection), where they are now stranded.

With little to salvage, and no way of leaving the planet, all they can do is wait for rescue. In the meantime, they’ll do what they’ve always done: Observe, learn, and, above all else, hide.

Unfortunately, being stranded on an uncharted world isn’t their only problem.

They can basically eat anything, so long as it’s organic matter, but they are decidedly vegetarian.

It was not a mere health choice; those among them that consume raw animal matter quickly begin to crave it. They call it “Flesh Poisoning”, since those who continue to indulge the cravings just get increasingly aggressive over time, even getting into violent frenzies, attacking and killing anything that moves! For the most part, their society frowns upon eating meat at all, but there are some malcontents who would hold it up as a choice that should be permitted and respected, ignoring that, in their past, wide spread “Flesh Poisoning” and resulting riotous frenzies nearly brought on the collapse of their own society and the home worlds’ ecosystems!

Some among them see their unmonitored status as an opportunity.

It’s not long before conflict breaks out, and the group splits, but they both continue to hide.

The Engineers, our protagonists, are mostly continuing with their original plan, but also defending the life on Earth if they happen upon their enemies, Wreckers, trying to prey on them.

The unique resources available as a result of an intelligent presence allows them to get… Creative.. With some of their constructs and mobility.

Red in Tooth and Claw [EXTINCT RP]

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Red in Tooth and Claw [EXTINCT RP]

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"The Scroungers"

A little introduction, here. I originally conceived this introduction piece as having seen "Monster Trucks" and thought "hey, what if that, but blended a bit with transformers?" I wound up not getting into the story enough to make that clear, though, even though I did one piece of complimentary artwork, and had some fairly thought out background material on the creatures in this story. Without further prattle, though, here's what I'd managed to write for "The Scroungers".

---

It was a dark, but clear August night just east of the Washington Rocky Mountains, still in the foothills. If one were to look up, they'd clearly see every star in the sky through the needles of the bristle-pines.

Mel was shuffling through the woods, trying not to stumble. He'd been drinking, which was usual, but he was chasing his animals, which wasn't. For a month, now, strange things had been going on. He wasn't worried about the freak-meteor shower; it hadn't been called for in any of the news, or even his copy of the farmers' almanac.

It was strange, but it didn't trouble him until more strangeness started right there on his property!

It started small, he thought to himself as he took a nip from his flask. Things would move around; little things, like his tools turning up in places he was sure he hadn't left them, and he'd lost his radio.. He'd have blamed the neighbors, but he didn't have any. He wished he'd had either once he started hearing... Things.

He could handle things moving around, and going missing, but he started hearing noises unlike anything he'd ever heard. Now, Mel wasn't the sort of man to jump at a possum hissing; he'd lived in these hills his whole life, and heard every kind of animal there was to hear. He even swore he once heard Sasquatch calls, but this scared him worse than anything. Some kind of bellowing, howling scream!

Especially since, not long after the calls started, he stopped hearing other things. Things like the trumpeting screech of the elk, or the yapping of coyotes. His goats started getting agitated, on edge, like some predator was stalking around at night.

He knew it wasn't bears; they make noise and knock over trash cans (the latter having stopped after he put electrified wire along his fences 5 years ago).

He knew it wasn't a puma; they don't steal traps.

He'd began setting traps here and there on his property when "The Sounds" started, but every day when he made the rounds to check them, another one would be tripped with nothing in it, or simply be gone.

And now, here he was, drinking more to calm his nerves now than to pass the time. He did not want to be out here. There was a fog rolling in, and he knew, he just knew, something was watching him.

He knew it was, and it had been for at least two weeks.

One night, back then, his lights went out. He picked up his lantern, and checked the generator. He'd gotten to drinking before he'd finished his evening routine; forgot to check the fuel levels before he settled in. It had happened before. But, as he walked back to the house, he heard a strange noise. A hissing, clicking noise, like nothing he'd ever heard..

Then, the next night, his power cut out again. He was about to go outside, when he stopped at the door. He'd heard something- he listened carefully. His goats were more agitated than ever! At one point, while their bleating had briefly lulled, he heard it- the clicking. Oh god, he thought, something has gotten inside my fence, and it wants me to come outside!

He had run back up into his loft, drew up the stairs and hatch behind him, and sealed himself in. His loft only had the one way up, a retractable staircase, and he pulled down the steel shutters he'd installed over his windows. Combined with having his loft set up like a separate, independently powered apartment/panic room, he was prepared to wait it out until morning. He was not, however, prepared to sleep. Not after "The Sound" outside his back door two hours later, followed by something landing a blow that shook the whole house!

The next morning, he found the generator- he didn't have to go far, this time.

It had thrown the generator at the house. Upon closer examination, he'd confirmed his terrible fear from the previous night- the fuel line had been cut.

It had set a trap for him.

Now, two weeks later, here he was, one night away from a delivery/pick-up from town that would give him fuel to get in his truck and get out of there, get to town, get the authorities involved. His radio, which he'd kept in the office in the barn, was his only way to contact the outside world, and the monster (which he was now convinced it was) had taken it. And it somehow drove his tractor through the fence, and into the pen. His goats escaped, and it clicked along after them.

Here he was, mired in a thick fog, soaked with sweat and dew from the outside, and whiskey from the inside, but sobered by terror, the ridiculously large rifle in his hands shaking. He knew he shouldn't be out here, but he had to at least try to recover his animals, even just a few of them.

It was dead-silent.

Than he heard it; "The Sound". After a moment, he heard it again.

It was getting closer.

It was coming for him.

He ran blindly; stumbling this way and that, dodging trees and branches, just trying to outrun the monster. He lost the rifle at some point, but he just kept running.

A log was coming up- he jumped over it, and stopped mid-air! he realized, as pain ripped through his body, that the log was a fence post; he had been herded into his own electrical wire along the hole in his fence! He convulsed for a moment before falling off the wire and onto the ground. He scrambled on his hands and feet; there was his house, not a hundred feet away!

He could hear that hideous nightmare clicking behind him, closer to him than he to the house- got to get inside!

He jerked, and fell.

Oh god, no, NO- He looked at his foot-

It lured me out and than put the traps back!

He sat up and fumbled deftly at the bear-trap clamped over his ankle, his fingers uncooperative, still numb from the electrical shock.

Mel struggled, and then froze as he heard that hissing-clicking, just outside his vision in the fog. In front of him- then behind, and to either side!

It was a pack!

He cried, and sobbed uncontrollably, his vision blurring as he desperately tried to free himself. He heard the sound of them moving- quickly, they were charging as they closed in!

He let out a hideous scream before they reached him, wishing his tears blinded him from that which was to be the last thing he ever saw.

His scream faded, drowned out and over-taken by "The Sound".