Avatar of Sierra
  • Last Seen: 1 yr ago
  • Joined: 6 yrs ago
  • Posts: 639 (0.28 / day)
  • VMs: 1
  • Username history
    1. Sierra 6 yrs ago


Recent Statuses

1 yr ago
Current For those wondering where I fucked off to ... the apple iphone 14 pre-order launch is this thursday and I work software dev for a cell carrier. Been a lil slammed.
1 yr ago
As someone who once unironically used grey-on-black text .... don't. Its impossible to read on OLED screens, which include most modern phones.
1 like
1 yr ago
Sometimes I feel like this site is a Thai buffet. I'm sure there's delicious things here, but for the life of my I can't find anything that really speaks to me right now.
1 yr ago
When not prepping for my D&D table, I should spruce up some of my stuff here. Not all of my old content is the garbage I presumed it was. But some things I wrote we won't talk about ....
1 yr ago
Reflections on characters past: "Adi really was a spoiled brat. How did I ever think her motivations were compelling?"


Peace is a lie. There is only passion.
Through passion, I gain strength.
Through strength, I gain power.
Through power, my chains are broken.
The Force shall free me.

Most Recent Posts

There needs to be a level of cooperation in order for competition to be interesting, at least to me.

Poor two second analogy, but I have to be willing to admit you hit me in the head. I didn't block it. I didnt tense me neck muscles at just the right time to absorb the force. I didn't open my mouth and bite your fist at the last second. I'm not actually a master of the Iron Jaw technique and therefore you didn't actually just break your own fist in my face.

You got me. It hurt. I'm probably bleeding. My bell is a little rung. I'm gonna have to adapt. I wasn't ready for that. Fucking ouch man. Damn.

A concept oft' forgotten in non dice-driven roleplaying, and in my limited experience even moreso in nation roleplay. Characters are the lovechild of their creators and we typically desire to protect them, this extending to even falling into one's own little nationalism for their fictitious world. Even I am not immune from faltering as such, and I don't look back on some of my older writing fondly for precisely that reason.

Its pertinent to remember that the goals of the players should never be in opposition, even if the goals of nations or factions or characters are. The goal of the players is always to tell a compelling story and that means the outcome of conflict should be whatever option drives the narrative in the most compelling way.
Memory serving, there should be a 4th. I was holding off writing again until that came. Or has that person dropped off the face of the earth?
Hmmm. I shall watch this idea's career with great interest.
@Cyclone Big negative on that. My discord handle is @Sierra#0637 so its pretty easy to correlate if I'm in a place or not. One of the perks of a relatively standardized internet handle.
Felt like I should mention I've been lurking ln this since the int check was posted. I already have a character adaptation in mind. It won't take me too long to write it up.
Well, I hope that's satisfying to people. Didn't take me as long to write as I expected. I half-thought I'd need to finish it tomorrow morning. It seems so far like the rust knocks off pretty easily.
- 0 7 -
The deadliest weapon is information, but bullets make a damn fine backup.


- S T A N D A R D C A R R Y -
Sarva Armories G33 N.O.M.A.D. - 10mm ETC handgun
Versatile, flexible, concealable: the weapon of a street operative. High velocity plasma-ignited cartridges provide capable offense versus armored targets, and remains suppressible for discrete close-quarters ambushes.

- S P E C I A L P U R P O S E -
H&K G56 ETC Modular Weapon System
The weighty 6.8mm ETC cartridge delivers consistent, high-power performance that's well-adapted to conventional military & clandestine operations alike. The hypervelocity rounds punch like an energy weapon while maintaining the subtlety of a suppressed ballistic rifle.

- A R M O R -
Knight Systems polymer-ceramic composite bodysuit
Durable segmented plating able to stop intermediate cartridges past 200 yards, all in a slim formfitting package wearable under plain clothes. "0-7" is stenciled onto both shoulder plates, the left breastplate, and right shoulder blade area in the style of air force tail numbers.
It began with a crash. The shattering of glass and rending of metal shouting over the dull rumbling made by the pod. Sirens shrieked inside, piercing the ears of its lone occupant. A column of smoke and vapor chased the contraption that plunged itself into the corner of a structure, coming to rest wedged in an alley after a brutal and destructive landing.

Half-consciousness came over him, a subtle ringing waking him from black. Bits of metal and shimmering debris floated outside a frosted window. The jagged, blocky horizon in the distance slowly rose, shaking the window. Red pulses came and went in the fringes of vision. The ringing grew to a warbling whine, and then the black came again. The ringing woke him a second time. Beyond the window stood a structure which had a good two feet of material gouged from its side, as if by an enormous shovel. The pulsing red and screaming alarms pulled him from slumber. Aware of the machine around him panicking like a stuck pig, adrenaline and reflex kicked in. Hands slammed against the window, and then pulled two levers above, ejecting the front panel. He pulled a sidearm from a compartment he wasn't aware of and checked the immediate surroundings.

The immediate surroundings: a cityscape. Rain dripped across his head, along the barrel of the weapon, against the fallen front panel of the pod. Neon light of varying colors seeped across the landscape like bleeding paint. None of it seemed familiar. Why had he dropped here? Why had he dropped at all? The figure lay in contemplation, staring up at a hole in the domed sky above him. Why was the sky domed? There was so many questions. None of them had answers. He tried to recall why he dropped, but found nothing. Absolutely nothing. Everything before was blank, save for the occasional sensation: a sound, a voice, a blur of color ... useless fragments of a memory that no longer remained.

Devoid of knowledge, he climbed from the pod. Moving his legs felt unnatural, as if he had forgotten how to stand. But stand he did, and handle a pistol like a soldier he did: good trigger discipline, proper sight picture, stable grip. It seemed muscle memory was still intact. He reached for a second compartment, this one containing a large weapon case. Some higher instinct also remained, telling him to seek shelter.

There was an absence of people on the streets. It was night time, or at least seemed to be as near as he could tell with a dome overhead, but it was still a city. Cities had people constantly, so where were they? The dearth was even more concerning than presence would have been. 'It's the one you don't see that kills you,' he thought to himself. He ... he had a name. Everyone had a name. So why could he not remember even that? More questions, and still no answers. He moved around the back of the building with the gash in it, presumably made by the pod on the way down. He must have hit his head. Surely that was the reason for this amnesia. The case was emblazoned with digits painted on with a spray can and a paper stencil: 0 7. He noticed the same number on his chest plate. It seemed familiar. He knew he'd heard it before, but was with everything he came up blank on where.

Opening the case, he instinctively knew this was his gear. The unconscious recognition was there, even if the conscious memory wasn't. A rifle with various alternate parts, a few full magazines, and attachments were all tucked neatly in their foam slots. An empty pistol-shaped slot was also there, no doubt for the sidearm he picked up moments ago. He reached under the foam layer, lifting it up to reveal a change of clothing. Good. Hard plate ballistic armor was not good for blending in. Pants and a black trench coat would be better than that.

* * *

He adjusted the collar, picked up the case, and stared up into the rain. How it was raining inside a dome was a good question, but hardly a priority at a time like this. He stared at the two holes in the dome. Two ... 'Was that there before?' He swore it wasn't. Something had put a second hole in the dome. If his pod put the first one in, then a second pod could do the same. A second pod meant a second person and that could mean answers.

He tried to take a mental note of the direction. He knew to stay off the streets. No one else was on them for whatever reason, so neither should he be. There were no crowds for cover and that meant sticking out like a sore thumb. He didn't even know where he was, let alone what would happen were he discovered. He couldn't shake the feeling he was very much unwelcome here. He headed down an alleyway in the rough path towards the second hole, hoping it also came more or less straight down. If it didn't, it could be anywhere in this god-forsaken place.
I'm still lurking. I'm just dealing with a metric fuckton of life stuff at the moment.

Background checks for work starting first week of January, trying to furnish a freshly-leased apartment, set up secondary utilities, deal with christmas plans, deal with the chronic indecision of my D&D players, and not to mention my girlfriend being one argument away from falling out with her parents.

I've not forgotten, its just behind some other rather high priority shit.
Solution enough to the tech problem: ETC guns. Faster, more reliable ignition, more stable higher-energy propellants, up to double the muzzle velocity which in turn affects stopping power. There's advantages to more conventional "low-tech" hardware: you can't suppress an energy weapon or hide the bright glowing tracers. That tends to be an important feature when discretion is the better part of valor. :)

I'll maybe tune some things up when I go to post officially. I have formatting tweaks I wanna do anyway.
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