Supermaxx

Superboy's Shitty Characters

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Giants Without Names

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"And the angels who did not stay within their own position of authority, but left their proper dwelling, he has kept in eternal chains under gloomy darkness until the judgment of the great day—"

Jude 1:6

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SCIENCE FICTION - MYSTERY - SURVIVAL

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Space bent and folded, twisting in impossible ways as two points an incomprehensible distance from one another were forced together like the corners of a piece of parchment. Energy crackled through the inky void of space as a vessel tore through the projected wormhole. A gargantuan beast of metal emerged through the rip in space-time, exploding into the solar system from origins unknown.

"The Moloch has successfully crossed through. Closing tunnel." A mechanically tinged voice echoed quietly through the vessel's bridge. The room was shrouded in darkness, save for the glow coming from the console before the unoccupied captain's seat. The image of an eye, unblinking, flickered across it.

Before the Moloch rose a great shape within the expanse of space. A sphere of bright blues and greens rested on the horizon, enticing the titanic ship toward it. It turned with great haste to make for the planet, it's engines glowing bright as it shot through the black.

A near silent whirring filled the bridge as minute adjustments were made to the controls by a seemingly invisible force. Switches flicked themselves and the yoke turned of it's own accord. "Approaching destination. Preparing for descent." The voice belonged to the ship's Artificial Intelligence, Ananke. She was young and newly installed aboard a ship of this kind, but the A.I was eager to prove herself, despite the nature of her...duties.

The more precise Descent Propulsion Systems began to slip out of their compartments on the exterior of the spacefaring vehicle. They were meant to guide the Moloch in the process of reentry in ways the more powerful yet equally cumbersome main engines could not. However, part way through the process, something went wrong. Something caused the panels to jam.

"Error." Ananke's airy voice took on an edge at the warning klaxons sounding within her logic processors. A living organism might call it fear. "D.P Systems not deploying. Searching for cause." The A.I sent it's many tendrils racing through the Moloch's software, looking for the source of the disturbance so that she might fix it.

Her logic processors spiked at the discovery of what was causing the issue.

"Anomalous signal detected. It is blocking my control of the engines." Ananke had lost all control over the Moloch's propulsion. She could not slow it's race toward the planet, nor could she guide it in a safe descent. "Signal source unknown. Counter-measures ineffective." What could do this? She was equipped with state of the art electronic warfare suites. Her sensors should've picked up the signal long before she was in range of it's affects. Yet Ananke hadn't known it was present until...

Until it was too late.

"Preparing emergency crash protocols."

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The Setting

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The crash caused severe damage to the Moloch, leaving several of it's systems offline and many more compromised. Electrical fires have sprouted throughout the interior, with some rooms near inaccessible due to being crushed under the weight of the ship's own bulkheads. Many of these systems are critical to the continued survival of the ship's inhabitants, and the survivors's first priority should be the repair of essential functions.

Aside from basic survival, however, other issues present themselves from the moment the survivors wake. They have no memory to speak of. Their pasts, their beliefs, even their names have been forgotten. This mysterious case of ship-wide amnesia cannot be rectified simply. Ananke's databanks were damaged during the crash, leaving whatever information they may contain about the passengers or crew an enigma. The only means of identifying themselves are the serial numbers printed on their uniforms.

Their duties, then, are thus: They must secure their immediate survival by bringing the ship's vital processes back online. Afterword, they must attempt by any and all means to learn of their purpose aboard the Moloch. Their memories must be restored. All the while, the survivors have to contend with whatever trials the very world itself has to offer them. 'Hope' is not in great supply for the crew, but the will to live oft spurs even the most unexpected men to greatness.

The Giants

The crew is of a singular species, all of them being mammals of a humanoid, bipedal nature. Skin tones vary with outliers being quite pale or dark, though the average is a tannish color. Hair typically is short and dark, with most of the growth being focused around the top of the head. Some males have growth upon the face, too; this most commonly found in elder males of the species.

Their most defining feature, however, is their size. Compared to the world they have landed upon, the Moloch's crew is titanic in size. Standing, on average, around ten feet tall, they possess an extraordinary amount of muscle. It is not implausible for one of them to uproot a tree and split it into firewood with only their bare hands. The younger Giants tend to be stronger than their elders, with the males having an edge in strength over females of the species as well.

These Giants have several other noticeable physical traits. Horns grow from their foreheads, with the longest and most intricate of them belonging to the oldest of their number. Females tend to, on average, have larger horns than their male counterparts of the same age group; they tend to be sharper, too, though this occasionally leads to chipping when the horns are removed from a target at the wrong angle.

Interestingly, their other more noticeable feature are a pair of seemingly useless attachments to the rear of the scapula. They appear to be similar in structure to the Giant's limbs, yet they're cut off at what looks like the 'forearm' for no discernible reason. An evolutionary error, perhaps? Or yet another mystery locked behind forgotten memories?

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OOC Information

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Welcome to Giants Without Names, a survival Sci-Fi story about a crashed spaceship and an alien crew knee-deep in the unknown. Before we begin our journey, I have a couple of things I'd like to lay out:

• This is an Advanced level Roleplay, as you might have guessed, and expectations mirror that. Posts should have a length of around three paragraphs in which either meaningful action is taken, or these are used to reflect on the nature of the character and his or her thoughts. You are expected to give your characters depth and a sense of realism, even if they are giants from outer-space. The flavor text above is a good indication of what I'm expecting.

• While we won't be proceeding into realms darker or more explicit than the site allows, it would be in your best interest to prepare yourself for adult themes to be explored in this Roleplay. Difficult times can bring out the worst in people.

• There will not be a hard cap of any sort on post times. However it is to be assumed that if you're signing up then you're planning to post once in a blue moon and you're in it for the long haul. If I can't get a hold of you and you haven't posted in some time, I'll do what I have to in order to keep the Roleplay progressing.

• As always, abide by the golden rule: treat others how you wish to be treated.

No Turning Back - Surving the Abyss

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P4A-229

CDR. ROSS
VITAE LOG #4
Morning, 2221
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_{In collaboration with @InfamousGuy101 and @Sep}

A brief exchange of words between the Admiral's personal aide and Commander Ross were had before Elijah made his way inside the Commanding Officer's Quarters. He knew Locke's office well; in the five years they had spent on the Ark together, they'd held more than one meeting here. Ross had to confess that he was a little envious of the space provided to William. Martian vessels didn't offer lavish extravagances like 'space' and 'comfortable bedding' or other such superfluous luxuries to it's officers. Quarters were, for the most part, spartan and utilitarian in nature- as all things Martian were. Seeing as how the Ark was built and designed by more than just Martians engineers, however, the Feds and Conglomerate types decided to give the royal treatment to the Ark's commanding officer.

'Living like this is going to make Locke go soft.' Ross quietly joked to himself. He wouldn't have protested a room like this...much.

With heavy, uneven footfalls, he made his way inside the cabin. His officer's uniform was crisp and well kept as ever. Appearances were important to Ross. It was a fact he had learned far before he was ever inducted into military service. Back when he was just a school boy, Elijah had a teacher that refused to roll up his sleeves, loosen his tie or unbutton the top button on his shirt. The man ran the most disciplined class in the district. The presence he commanded when he entered the room was never forgotten, even when Elijah became a man. He had learned to emulate that teacher, and it had paid dividends in his military career.

"Sir." Elijah saluted, his arm snapping up into place so that his fingers touched his temple. It was quick and customary, but Ross insisted. Military tradition was a means of honoring the past that they had left behind- a way to keep from forgetting where they had come from.

Once he was given the go ahead, Ross found a place to sit. He wasn't exactly in any shape to remain standing for great lengths of time, given his leg, but Elijah wasn't going to break protocol just because his knee was a little sore. "Captain Lopez." The commander offered a nod of recognition to his equal from the Marine division.

"I have the list of names you asked me to compile. It should be connecting to your datapad in a moment." Ross was as quick as ever to dive into business. Locke and Lopez didn't have time for pleasantries, though Elijah had to confess that his time was a great deal less valuable than theirs. He didn't drill his men as strenuously as Lopez did. Flight simulations and emergency contingency practices could only be run so many times before it just started to feel tedious. And Locke being horrifically busy wasn't exactly a surprise, either, given his position. "None of them should be much of a surprise. They're all experts in their fields with up-to-date EVA training. Provided we're not walking into hell, they should do just fine."

Locke returned the salute before inviting Elijah to sit. As always his uniform was impeccable. What he would do to put Elijah into the body of a healthy officer. Still, he’d make good use of him while he had him. He deeply respected the mans resolve not to get cybernetic, or biological implants. While Martians tended to avoid them, feeling that the human was already a perfect machine that would only get better with time anyway, he had to respect that here where cultures mixed that Elijah had managed to resist the temptation to get the implants from a Fed, Con or even an Armani Doctor. The man was committed and dedicated, and the only one he would trust to lead this mission.

The list transferred over to his pad, and Locke merely accepted it. He didn’t doubt the list was anything but perfect. “I’ll be brief.” The hologram of the planet appeared above the table. “This planet, which we’re calling P4A-229 is more or less ideal, from what our deep space scanners are telling us. From what we can tell is that most of the planet surface is water, even more so than on Earth, however we don’t need much land in order to construct a settlement. Missions standard recon, orbital and in atmosphere sweeps. If the risk is deemed acceptable, you may land and take samples and scans. Decontamination protocols apply, so everyone should be wearing a suit and a rebreather at all times. This is all pretty simple, any questions?”

Lopez paid much attention to the hologram of the planet, closing in to see the hologram closer he then moved his hand through his beard as he questioned himself multiple things. Some of the questions were arbitrary but others were important to know.

“Any life readings? Most importantly scans for structures around the planet, we shouldn’t run the risk of them being here and surprising us before we even know it.” Lopez expressed towards the Admiral, Locke probably knew full well what the marine meant with “Them.”

Sat upon the table before them was an image of a world. Small, the light from the projector flickering slightly every couple of seconds, it wasn't much to look at at first glance. One wouldn't guess that the colorful sphere suspended before them represented the first taste of hope humanity had seen in five years. The first planet that could support human life. The first place that they could call home. Ross felt a stirring in his heart as he looked on it, captivated by it's simplistic beauty.

The question from Captain Lopez cut through the glimpse of hope like a knife. It was a reality check that they could not ignore, even when things started to seem like they were going their way- the Devastator threat still loomed. Somewhere in the distant, black cosmos, the unknowable enemy lurked. No one knew why they had attacked mankind, and no one knew if they would seek out the survivors that fled upon the Arks. They had to assume, for the sake of their entire species's survival, that those monsters sought to finish the job.

"If the Devastators are present on this world, we've already lost." Ross didn't enjoy being blatant, but he felt it necessary now. "They'd have detected us when we did them. I'm more worried about the planet itself." Elijah held in a cough, his lungs burning as the harsh touch of unfiltered oxygen ran down his throat. "Now I'm no expert on the subject, but a planet with this much water present's bound to have some bad weather. What do we know about the storms on 229? Will they disrupt our survey if we get hit by 'em?"

William understood the fears that both these men held in their hearts, that the Devastators were somehow out here. The fear couldn’t stop them though, they had jumped far from their origin point, outside of their own galaxy. Most theories had the Devastators origin being within the Milky Way. That wasn’t to mean that they could run on the thought that they were the only ones out here. “Scans are detecting one possible structure here-” a red blip appeared on the hologram “-that may equally be a large mineral deposit just near the surface, we’re not entirely sure as our sensors are running at their maximum range. You’ll just need to take a more accurate scan when you arrive in orbit of the planet.”

He turned his attention to Ross. “Same goes for your question, we won’t know for sure what’s going on until you move in closer. Storms are expected to be a major issue, obviously. As unlike Earth hurricanes are going to build force for longer before breaking on land. You’re just going to need to keep an eye on the sky to avoid getting caught in a storm, as if it’s as powerful as they theorise they might be then it could cause some serious issues.” William took another sip of coffee before buttoning up more of his shirt, going from laid back officer to fully decorated. “I trust you both with this mission, Elijah you’re obviously on point-” he turned to face Lopez “-with you as his second Matthew. We’ll be in communication range if you need to contact the ship, however I’m not anticipating any issues that you can’t solve.”

William checked his watch. “Launch is scheduled for 1400 hours. You’ve already been selecting your personnel, they all need to be on board and squared away ready to go. Dismissed.”

Having taken in all that info, Lopez was quick to salute the admiral as well as his fellow commander and began to walk out of the office, heading back to the training complex to gather the team for the mission. He would led the troops with efficiency and like Locke said, there was nothing he couldn’t handle.

There was a structure present? That surprised Ross. Though it was more than likely a simple mineral deposit, as the admiral suggested, Elijah couldn’t ignore the swirling sensation of nausea in his gut. That infinitesimally small chance that there was something elsepresent on the surface…

The commander shook his head, knocking those doubts from his mind. A Devastator outpost all the way out here was more than unlikely; it was all but impossible. Ross would prioritize discovering the true nature of the detected anomaly, but he couldn’t go into this mission expecting contact with the enemy. He had to keep himself focused on the much more tangible threats that came with atmospheric entry. The Nyx was a tough old bird, yet flying it straight into a hurricane or a thunderstorm was less than advisable- especially when her sensor suite was deployed. Electrical systems would be at their most vulnerable then, and a stray bolt of lightning had the potential to damage the equipment.

Worries he would need to deal with when the mission was actually underway. For now, Elijah stood, offering another snapped salute to Locke. His mask slipped back into place, filling his lungs with a burst of much needed oxygen as he made his way out of the room just behind Lopez.

Superboy's Shitty Characters

N/A

Superboy's Shitty Characters

Character Sheet Template

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Character Name

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Character Summary

Name:(Full Name)
Aliases:(Nicknames, previous names, maiden names, etc.)

Gender:
Age:

Race/Ethnicty:
Place of Origin:

Occupation:

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Character Attributes

Height:
Weight:

Tattoos/Scars/Piercings:
Day To Day Attire:

Strengths: (What is your character best at? Where do they excel?)

Weaknesses: (This includes physical, emotional and psychological weaknesses)

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Magic

Spells: (A listing of spells, their descriptions - Only necessary for characters of a magic affinity)

• Spell: Description
• Spell: Description
• Spell: Description

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Possessions

Items Of Note: (Weapons, clothing, armor, trinkets, ect. You don't have to put down everything they carry, just the things you believe are worth noting.)

• Item: Description
• Item: Description
• Item: Description

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History

(Don't feel the need to go too overboard on this. This is more for me to get a feeling for what your character is like and how you write, rather than needing to be the life-time biography of your character.)

Simply hit the RAW button and copy and paste the Template to use it! If you'd like to submit your own unique spin on it, go ahead, but I'd like the basic information I've asked for here to be present. Anything extra earns you a brownie point, though.

Superboy's Shitty Characters

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Title

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Words.

person

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MOOD MUSIC - GENRE

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Flavor text.

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The Setting

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More in-depth information about the setting.

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OOC Information

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Rules and stuff.

Battletech: Anabasis

P-p-p-present!

Pariah Online | Season One

G R A V E S

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• Tʜᴇ Dᴜɴɢᴇᴏɴ •

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The sound of music drifted to Graves's ear from behind him, barely a hopeful whisper over the howl of the furious wind. The frantic yet utterly precise playing of the strings from their bard caused magic to wash over the party, giving them a temporary boost in power that was much appreciated. Graves felt his limbs lighten, as if the weapon in his hands weighed half what it previously did. He could nary feel more than a dozen pounds of the steel armor clinging to his form. It gave him the added agility to avoid a leaping slime that aimed to wrap it's gelatinous form around his leg- disaster avoided by little more than the skin of his teeth.

Graves responded by lowering his halberd down the slime's center, the sharpened head executing the target like a falling guillotine. Or, it would have, if the target wasn't able to pull itself back together a few moments later.

'Damn it!' He sneered, taking a step back. He could feel the hot breath of Elian upon the back of his neck. Graves couldn't retreat any further without breaking their whole formation. That usually wouldn't be a problem for the tank; standing his ground was kind of in the title. Yet...'We're playing for keeps now.' He needed to trust his healer would keep him alive. Just like the supports needed to trust him to hold the line.

With a grimace, he took his place right next to Rael and Ochre once more. Their blind spots were being covered by the coiling, almost sentient chains from Tess. Graves could hear their disgusting little bodies crackling against the electrified perimeter she'd set. It sounded a hell of a lot like the sizzling the slimes to their front were doing when they ran into Ochre's minefield.

Her magic was incredible, but the mumblings that Graves couldn't make out over the sounds of battle made him worry. She had to hold it together. "Keep it together Tess!" The Blood Knight roared, his halberd singing like a banshee as it cut another enemy in twain. "You break and your little boyfriend's getting swarmed!" They'd all get swamped, but as far as Graves knew, flower boy was the only one Tess gave two shits about besides herself. A little motivation never hurt anybody, right?

His fight got a great deal easier when Landon lent his own unique form of support to the frontliners. Graves felt a slight 'ting' against his shoulder armor right before heat began to rush across his form. It washed over his body like an invisible, second layer of skin, and the cold suddenly became a great deal more bearable. The goosebumps on Graves's exposed pectorals began to fade, though that was far from the most impressive part of the spell.

That came when the Blood Knight cleaved another slime apart, fire flinging haphazardly with the swinging halberd as it cooked the creature alive from the inside. It died in a single cut. "Now that is what I'm talking about!" Adrenaline shot through the muscle-bound tank, filling him with a newfound strength and a confidence he hadn't been able to muster before. Graves began to advance, cutting, stabbing and cleaving away at every frosty creep that lay in front of him.

"Pipsqueak, flower boy!" Graves yelled out the names of the other melee fighters, hoping to draw their attention to him. "You think we can carve a path toward the front exit?!" He jabbed his weapon down into the center of a slime, letting the spear tip remain inside until it stopped struggling. "Put our backs to open air and just worry about letting them funnel in from one direction?!" That would make Sky all the deadlier, he assumed; let her flames move down a tight, single corridor and roast the entire lot of these things in one go. "Hell, we might even be able to force the door closed behind us!" It wasn't a great plan, but he didn't hear anyone else coming up with anything. And moving at all was better than sitting there and waiting to be overwhelmed.

Superboy's Shitty Characters

G R A V E S

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• Tʜᴇ Dᴜɴɢᴇᴏɴ •

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The sound of music drifted to Graves's ear from behind him, barely a hopeful whisper over the howl of the furious wind. The frantic yet utterly precise playing of the strings from their bard caused magic to wash over the party, giving them a temporary boost in power that was much appreciated. Graves felt his limbs lighten, as if the weapon in his hands weighed half what it previously did. He could nary feel more than a dozen pounds of the steel armor clinging to his form. It gave him the added agility to avoid a leaping slime that aimed to wrap it's gelatinous form around his leg- disaster avoided by little more than the skin of his teeth.

Graves responded by lowering his halberd down the slime's center, the sharpened head executing the target like a falling guillotine. Or, it would have, if the target wasn't able to pull itself back together a few moments later.

'Damn it!' He sneered, taking a step back. He could feel the hot breath of Elian upon the back of his neck. Graves couldn't retreat any further without breaking their whole formation. That usually wouldn't be a problem for the tank; standing his ground was kind of in the title. Yet...'We're playing for keeps now.' He needed to trust his healer would keep him alive. Just like the supports needed to trust him to hold the line.

With a grimace, he took his place right next to Rael and Ochre once more. Their blind spots were being covered by the coiling, almost sentient chains from Tess. Graves could hear their disgusting little bodies crackling against the electrified perimeter she'd set. It sounded a hell of a lot like the sizzling the slimes to their front were doing when they ran into Ochre's minefield.

Her magic was incredible, but the mumblings that Graves couldn't make out over the sounds of battle made him worry. She had to hold it together. "Keep it together Tess!" The Blood Knight roared, his halberd singing like a banshee as it cut another enemy in twain. "You break and your little boyfriend's getting swarmed!" They'd all get swamped, but as far as Graves knew, flower boy was the only one Tess gave two shits about besides herself. A little motivation never hurt anybody, right?

His fight got a great deal easier when Landon lent his own unique form of support to the frontliners. Graves felt a slight 'ting' against his shoulder armor right before heat began to rush across his form. It washed over his body like an invisible, second layer of skin, and the cold suddenly became a great deal more bearable. The goosebumps on Graves's exposed pectorals began to fade, though that was far from the most impressive part of the spell.

That came when the Blood Knight cleaved another slime apart, fire flinging haphazardly with the swinging halberd as it cooked the creature alive from the inside. It died in a single cut. "Now that is what I'm talking about!" Adrenaline shot through the muscle-bound tank, filling him with a newfound strength and a confidence he hadn't been able to muster before. Graves began to advance, cutting, stabbing and cleaving away at every frosty creep that lay in front of him.

"Pipsqueak, flower boy!" Graves yelled out the names of the other melee fighters, hoping to draw their attention to him. "You think we can carve a path toward the front exit?!" He jabbed his weapon down into the center of a slime, letting the spear tip remain inside until it stopped struggling. "Put our backs to open air and just worry about letting them funnel in from one direction?!" That would make Sky all the deadlier, he assumed; let her flames move down a tight, single corridor and roast the entire lot of these things in one go. "Hell, we might even be able to force the door closed behind us!" It wasn't a great plan, but he didn't hear anyone else coming up with anything. And moving at all was better than sitting there and waiting to be overwhelmed.

Sticks And Stones [Post-Apoc/High Fantasy Hybrid]

Thanks for playing, lads. Sad to see you go.

Pariah Online | Season One

I gotchu cap'n. Should be up in just a bit.