HollywoodMole said
I don't think so...
Me neither. Righty'o. I'm a little busy now, so I will probably leave it until tomorrow to put up the OOC.
SyrianHamster Member
- Last Seen: 8 yrs ago
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 1138 (0.25 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- SyrianHamster 12 yrs ago
Status
Recent Statuses
11 yrs ago
The fishes aint biting like they used to.
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
Me neither. Righty'o. I'm a little busy now, so I will probably leave it until tomorrow to put up the OOC.
HollywoodMole said
That's great.
Awesome stuff.
Is there anything else that needs adding/changing?
This better? Or is the char sheet too much? I'd be happy to ditch it all together, if its what people want. Sometimes RPs that require players to introduce their characters through IC are superior.
Survive the Night – A Horror RP
St. Helen’s Hospital for the Criminally Insane (Picture taken from Deviant Art, made by “Kvasilchuk”)
Current Scare Level
Phase One - Creepy
Introduction
It’s Saturday night, and you’ve nowhere to go. You had plans, but they were unexpectedly cancelled at the last possible minute. Resigning yourself to a quiet night in, your spirits are suddenly lifted by the vibrating spasms of your phone. Grabbing it, you see the caller ID as “Chad”.
Chad’s an alright guy, a bit on the silly side of things, but he’s a good hang all the same. You answer the call, and he invites you to join him and the rest of your friends at the abandoned St. Helen’s hospital, a few miles out of town. You don’t know the place too well, just that it had a bit of a dark history, and that a lot of kids go there to hang out, especially on Halloween. Well, you haven’t got anything else to do, and if everyone else is going, you may as well too right?
Character Sheet
Name:
Gender:
Age: Keep it between 16 and 21.
Physical Description: This is for the benefit of other players. I will add your characters to first OOC post so that they can reference your guy/gal’s appearance in their posts, should they choose.
Nickname: What do the others usually call you?
Background Information: You don’t need to go crazy here, but as everyone in the group is supposed to know each other, it’ll be good if you can list certain details they would know about your character.
Places of Interest/Scenery Description Aids
Phase One - Creepy
- - Fluctuating temperatures in certain areas.
- Feelings of being watched.
- An odd sense of dread, without being sure why
- Random noises, with no visible cause. Maybe it's just 'the pipes?'
It’s Saturday night, and you’ve nowhere to go. You had plans, but they were unexpectedly cancelled at the last possible minute. Resigning yourself to a quiet night in, your spirits are suddenly lifted by the vibrating spasms of your phone. Grabbing it, you see the caller ID as “Chad”.
Chad’s an alright guy, a bit on the silly side of things, but he’s a good hang all the same. You answer the call, and he invites you to join him and the rest of your friends at the abandoned St. Helen’s hospital, a few miles out of town. You don’t know the place too well, just that it had a bit of a dark history, and that a lot of kids go there to hang out, especially on Halloween. Well, you haven’t got anything else to do, and if everyone else is going, you may as well too right?
Name:
Gender:
Age: Keep it between 16 and 21.
Physical Description: This is for the benefit of other players. I will add your characters to first OOC post so that they can reference your guy/gal’s appearance in their posts, should they choose.
Nickname: What do the others usually call you?
Background Information: You don’t need to go crazy here, but as everyone in the group is supposed to know each other, it’ll be good if you can list certain details they would know about your character.
Noyuri said
Hmm how large would that uchfos forest be? My sirens need a deep ininhabited forest.Also, if there are any races that wish to have some kind of history with the sirens, please tell me. (everything from resistance to their voice, to long time allies, to siren hunters etc. would spice up the lore a bit I think.)
I was thinking quite large, but not gigantic. Let's say the size of that map is two hundred miles horizontally and vertically, so Uchfos would be around a hundred and fifty miles long, fifty miles deep. Would take someone 2-3 days to traverse its length on horseback.
If your Sirens want to live there, that's fine. I'll put it that Uchfos was simply given a wide birth because of the dangers associated with it, and that even to this day patrols of Eblistani warriors scour the forest's borders to keep the Citadel safe.
Trinton gawked at the woman, "test it on one of them?" he asked in confusion.
"RARDARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"
The Captain looked across at the gate, saw the barbarians thundering towards him and his band of men, and shrugged. "Alright, but whatever this is, it better work or I'll have you lashed ten a dozen for distracting me with your nonsense."
Blowing his whistle a few more times in hopes of garnering more troops to his cause, Trinton looked back up at the keep's battlements. He scowled at the fluttering green banner of Lord Polvark, and the gleaming breastplates of his hundred-strong personal guard. Castle Rivergate needed those fighters down in the courtyard; they were formiddable warriors, each one of them, all having served their terms in the real legions. For whatever reason however, they weren't prepared to move an inch to intervene - the 13th Auxillary was on its own. The Captain was not one for dispairing.
"On me, on me!" He called, stopping to blast another lungful of air down the mouthpiece of his whistle. "Spears up front, archers behind, swords on the flanks!" He barked, batting his breastplate with the flat of his hatchet as if it were a drum. "Come on you whoresons, you wanna live? Or you wanna die? Choose quickly, now."
A core of the garrisons more experienced troops, two dozen or so, herded the newer recruits into position. A score of men holding short spears, perhaps six to eight feet in length, lined the front of Trinton's makeshift regiment. A dozen or so others, armed with the short recurved bows of the imperial legions, ran to the nearby stables, and hefted back with them two large hollow wooden platforms. These stood only two feet high, four feet wide and ten feet long, and were designed to give the archers at the rear of a battle line the ability to shoot over the heads of their comrades in front. The rest of Trinton's men, baring a wide variety of swords, shields, maces and axes headed for the flanks of the spearmen.
"We let them come!" Trinton yelled, his voice becoming hoarse, "they crash into the spears, the swords close in from the sides. If you're any good at what you're supposed to be doing, we'll have them contained long enough for those tits up on the wall to get down here and help us. Archers, wait until those black eyed bastards are crammed in the gateway, then let 'em have it. Less chance of missing that way, ya see?"
The barbarians were only a hundred yards off now, and even as the archers on the northern wall rained arrows down on them, their advanced continued at a disheartening rate. In mere moments, they would be upon the Captain and his soldiers.
"Steady," said the Captain; his grizzly voice now of an almost soothing fatherly quality, "steady."
"RARDARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"
The Captain looked across at the gate, saw the barbarians thundering towards him and his band of men, and shrugged. "Alright, but whatever this is, it better work or I'll have you lashed ten a dozen for distracting me with your nonsense."
Blowing his whistle a few more times in hopes of garnering more troops to his cause, Trinton looked back up at the keep's battlements. He scowled at the fluttering green banner of Lord Polvark, and the gleaming breastplates of his hundred-strong personal guard. Castle Rivergate needed those fighters down in the courtyard; they were formiddable warriors, each one of them, all having served their terms in the real legions. For whatever reason however, they weren't prepared to move an inch to intervene - the 13th Auxillary was on its own. The Captain was not one for dispairing.
"On me, on me!" He called, stopping to blast another lungful of air down the mouthpiece of his whistle. "Spears up front, archers behind, swords on the flanks!" He barked, batting his breastplate with the flat of his hatchet as if it were a drum. "Come on you whoresons, you wanna live? Or you wanna die? Choose quickly, now."
A core of the garrisons more experienced troops, two dozen or so, herded the newer recruits into position. A score of men holding short spears, perhaps six to eight feet in length, lined the front of Trinton's makeshift regiment. A dozen or so others, armed with the short recurved bows of the imperial legions, ran to the nearby stables, and hefted back with them two large hollow wooden platforms. These stood only two feet high, four feet wide and ten feet long, and were designed to give the archers at the rear of a battle line the ability to shoot over the heads of their comrades in front. The rest of Trinton's men, baring a wide variety of swords, shields, maces and axes headed for the flanks of the spearmen.
"We let them come!" Trinton yelled, his voice becoming hoarse, "they crash into the spears, the swords close in from the sides. If you're any good at what you're supposed to be doing, we'll have them contained long enough for those tits up on the wall to get down here and help us. Archers, wait until those black eyed bastards are crammed in the gateway, then let 'em have it. Less chance of missing that way, ya see?"
The barbarians were only a hundred yards off now, and even as the archers on the northern wall rained arrows down on them, their advanced continued at a disheartening rate. In mere moments, they would be upon the Captain and his soldiers.
"Steady," said the Captain; his grizzly voice now of an almost soothing fatherly quality, "steady."
Alright, this is what I've got so far:
Survive the Night – A Horror RP
St. Helen’s Hospital for the Criminally Insane (Picture taken from Deviant Art, made by “Kvasilchuk”)
Current Scare Level
Phase One - Creepy
Introduction
Idaho,
Route 51,
March 16th 1955,
St. Helen’s Hosptial for the Criminally Insane officially opens and receives its first patients. Prized as the pinnacle of the field of neuroscience, its establishment promises the swift and effective treatment of psychologically unstable criminals. Backed by Christian groups, who feel at odds with the USA’s widespread use of capital punishment, the Dean of Medicine, Doctor Laurence Clarke, begins what he calls "the end of senseless aggression in the minds of troubled men."
June 12th 1960,
St. Helen’s Hosptial is hailed a raging success, as dozens of inmates leave its doors to return to a life of normality; having been treated for illnesses of the mind not thought curable. Doctor Laurence Clarke is lauded as the grandfather of a new age of medical science, and the hospital receives a large government investment to expand its wards and research.
September 9th 1965,
A patient riot erupts within the hospital. Doctors and nurses are forcibly strapped down to gurneys and mutilated by their own surgical utensils. Visiting family members, including women and children, are herded into a large incinerator down in the hospital’s basement, and are burned to a cinder whilst still alive. The police arrive enforce, and brutally put down the riot with lethal force. None of the rioting patients survive the engagement, but some are rumoured to have fled the scene.
Clarke survives the encounter, but the resulting police investigation reveals large discrepancies between the kind of research he was fronting, and the kind that was actually being carried out. Human experiments, including untested surgical procedures, illegalised narcotics and practices that spanned the use of electrodes on a patient’s brain to various kinds of psychological and physical torture, were found to have taken place at the hospital over a number of years.
Patient records of the deceased were missing from the archives, and amidst the ash piles dumped outside the hospital from the incinerator, the police find human remains. It seemed the Good Doctor had been disposing of those that “failed” to survive his unsanctioned experiments.
Funding was immediately cut, and the hospital was closed by a direct order from the Federal Government. Clarke kills himself in his office by jarring a large threading needle into his eye – a bizarre end to a bizarre man.
August 20th 2014,
A beaten up black Ford Mondeo stops outside the long-since abandoned hospital. Its doors open, and out spill a small group of giddy kids high on the ups of youth. Bottles of beer and wine in hand, and perhaps a little stash of something special hidden in someone’s hoody pocket, they make their way to the decrepit perimeter fencing. It’s a Saturday night, and there’s nothing for anyone under the age of 21 to do ‘sept find a place to hang and party under the cops’ noses.
The hospital is a well-known local folklore legend, and a relatively popular place, apparently, for youths to gather when their parents’ basement is out of bounds to their revelry. The fence is full of holes, and of signs that these kids ain’t the first to have had the idea of spending a night at the place. This is a comforting notion to some of the group’s more reserved and reluctant members, and so, together they begin to make their way into the hospital grounds. The sun is setting in the east, and the night will soon be here, but who cares? When you’re young, you don’t concern yourself with such trivia.
Character Sheet
WIP
Places of Interest/Scenery Description Aids
Phase One - Creepy
- - Fluctuating temperatures in certain areas.
- Feelings of being watched.
- An odd sense of dread, without being sure why
- Random noises, with no visible cause. Maybe it's just 'the pipes?'
Idaho,
Route 51,
March 16th 1955,
St. Helen’s Hosptial for the Criminally Insane officially opens and receives its first patients. Prized as the pinnacle of the field of neuroscience, its establishment promises the swift and effective treatment of psychologically unstable criminals. Backed by Christian groups, who feel at odds with the USA’s widespread use of capital punishment, the Dean of Medicine, Doctor Laurence Clarke, begins what he calls "the end of senseless aggression in the minds of troubled men."
June 12th 1960,
St. Helen’s Hosptial is hailed a raging success, as dozens of inmates leave its doors to return to a life of normality; having been treated for illnesses of the mind not thought curable. Doctor Laurence Clarke is lauded as the grandfather of a new age of medical science, and the hospital receives a large government investment to expand its wards and research.
September 9th 1965,
A patient riot erupts within the hospital. Doctors and nurses are forcibly strapped down to gurneys and mutilated by their own surgical utensils. Visiting family members, including women and children, are herded into a large incinerator down in the hospital’s basement, and are burned to a cinder whilst still alive. The police arrive enforce, and brutally put down the riot with lethal force. None of the rioting patients survive the engagement, but some are rumoured to have fled the scene.
Clarke survives the encounter, but the resulting police investigation reveals large discrepancies between the kind of research he was fronting, and the kind that was actually being carried out. Human experiments, including untested surgical procedures, illegalised narcotics and practices that spanned the use of electrodes on a patient’s brain to various kinds of psychological and physical torture, were found to have taken place at the hospital over a number of years.
Patient records of the deceased were missing from the archives, and amidst the ash piles dumped outside the hospital from the incinerator, the police find human remains. It seemed the Good Doctor had been disposing of those that “failed” to survive his unsanctioned experiments.
Funding was immediately cut, and the hospital was closed by a direct order from the Federal Government. Clarke kills himself in his office by jarring a large threading needle into his eye – a bizarre end to a bizarre man.
August 20th 2014,
A beaten up black Ford Mondeo stops outside the long-since abandoned hospital. Its doors open, and out spill a small group of giddy kids high on the ups of youth. Bottles of beer and wine in hand, and perhaps a little stash of something special hidden in someone’s hoody pocket, they make their way to the decrepit perimeter fencing. It’s a Saturday night, and there’s nothing for anyone under the age of 21 to do ‘sept find a place to hang and party under the cops’ noses.
The hospital is a well-known local folklore legend, and a relatively popular place, apparently, for youths to gather when their parents’ basement is out of bounds to their revelry. The fence is full of holes, and of signs that these kids ain’t the first to have had the idea of spending a night at the place. This is a comforting notion to some of the group’s more reserved and reluctant members, and so, together they begin to make their way into the hospital grounds. The sun is setting in the east, and the night will soon be here, but who cares? When you’re young, you don’t concern yourself with such trivia.
Character Sheet
WIP
Places of Interest/Scenery Description Aids
YAY, double post.
You guys don't have to go to the gate's compartment, you can go with Trinton or do your own thing. Didn't want to tie you guys down in case you had other plans with your escapades.
Trinton's knee, now that he was far from danger, decided to free itself. With a sickening click, the joint released tension, and though it throbbed with pain, he found he could move it. Raising to his feet with an assortment of grunts, he marched over to the parapets and lent over. He looked not at Muiri, who was floundering wildly with her fingers to keep her grip on the wall, but past her towards the grassy earth below.
"That was my brother's sword," he said with collected calm, "carried that everywhere with me, since he fell ten years ago in some southern shit hole." He stretched further forwards, and eyed in dismay the broken shards of his family heirloom as they lay scattered about the barbarian's corpse. His vision hovered over the panicking face of Muiri, whose grip had started to fail, and with a sigh he caught her. His right knee might be less reliable than a Karandirian whore, but his arms were strong through years of standing in a shield wall. With hardly any effort at all, he dragged her over the parapets, armour n'all, and let her drop onto the floor in a heap.
"If you think you're getting my thanks, you'd be mistaken missy. Coulda done with you swinging that 'berd five minutes ago," he said mockingly.
Turning to face the real saviour - a mailed soldier, equipped with a bloodied glaive - Trinton smiled, "least one of you useless maggots got some balls, that's a bonus."
The Captain cast a glance over the wall; he hadn't seen any sign of the enemy when he was looking at the shattered sword of his deceased brother, and he didn't see any now. This was odd - what was that barbarian trying to achieve? More importantly, how had he managed to get inside so easily? Sure there were droves of peasant-soldiers sent to Castle Rivergate monthly. Some were recruited into the garrison, and others was passed further along the frontier to bolster other outposts. Rosters and inspections were rushed affairs, fair enough, but someone should have enquired further when they saw the man's dark skin, and his towering bulk.
An ear piercing grinding noise interrupted Trinton from his musings. He span on the spot and looked down at the courtyard - saw the gate starting to retract. WHAT!?
"We've been had!" He yelled. Looking around in a panic, the Captain picked up a dulled hatchet from one of the fallen sentries. "To the gate!"
Before he set off, he reached into his battered steel breastplate, and pulled out a nimble whistle held to his neck by a piece of discoloured string. Bringing it to his cracked lips, he blew four shrieking blasts. The sergeants on the north wall were already reacting to the crisis, and the Captain could see a score of soldiers making for the gate's mechanical compartment - but the giant oaken monster that kept the world beyond at bay was already six feet off the ground. Turning to the woman he was intent on not showing gratitude to, and the capable fighter that had saved him from getting his arse skewered, he nodded.
"If that gate goes up before the sergeants can put a stop to it, them black eyed bastards beyond the wall are gonna surge through. It'll be the end of us as we know it. You two head for the gate's mechanical compartment, see if you can help, I'm gonna go gather the Emperor's men in the courtyard," he paused to look up at the sun, "yup, looks like a good day to die. You got your orders, I'll see you in the clouds above!"
Trinton grappled a ladder mounted to the inside of the western wall, and slid down the rungs. He sent several more blasts through his whistle - and men, especially the more experienced of the garrison, flocked to him. Together they headed for the gate and formed a muddled shield wall, ready to brave the onslaught if the sergeants couldn't get the thing shut in time. He shivered as the floor trembled, and he eyed through the widening gap of the gateway an immeasurable line of warriors storming towards the breach.
"Archers!"
"Volley!"
"Fire at will!"
Sergeants were barking their frantic orders on the northern ramparts. The heart rending sound of a hundred bow strings being released at once gave hope the Captain, and he saw through the gate that the first rank of the barbarians had collapsed under a weathering wall of flighted death - but more surged forwards to bury those that had fallen under foot.
"That was my brother's sword," he said with collected calm, "carried that everywhere with me, since he fell ten years ago in some southern shit hole." He stretched further forwards, and eyed in dismay the broken shards of his family heirloom as they lay scattered about the barbarian's corpse. His vision hovered over the panicking face of Muiri, whose grip had started to fail, and with a sigh he caught her. His right knee might be less reliable than a Karandirian whore, but his arms were strong through years of standing in a shield wall. With hardly any effort at all, he dragged her over the parapets, armour n'all, and let her drop onto the floor in a heap.
"If you think you're getting my thanks, you'd be mistaken missy. Coulda done with you swinging that 'berd five minutes ago," he said mockingly.
Turning to face the real saviour - a mailed soldier, equipped with a bloodied glaive - Trinton smiled, "least one of you useless maggots got some balls, that's a bonus."
The Captain cast a glance over the wall; he hadn't seen any sign of the enemy when he was looking at the shattered sword of his deceased brother, and he didn't see any now. This was odd - what was that barbarian trying to achieve? More importantly, how had he managed to get inside so easily? Sure there were droves of peasant-soldiers sent to Castle Rivergate monthly. Some were recruited into the garrison, and others was passed further along the frontier to bolster other outposts. Rosters and inspections were rushed affairs, fair enough, but someone should have enquired further when they saw the man's dark skin, and his towering bulk.
An ear piercing grinding noise interrupted Trinton from his musings. He span on the spot and looked down at the courtyard - saw the gate starting to retract. WHAT!?
"We've been had!" He yelled. Looking around in a panic, the Captain picked up a dulled hatchet from one of the fallen sentries. "To the gate!"
Before he set off, he reached into his battered steel breastplate, and pulled out a nimble whistle held to his neck by a piece of discoloured string. Bringing it to his cracked lips, he blew four shrieking blasts. The sergeants on the north wall were already reacting to the crisis, and the Captain could see a score of soldiers making for the gate's mechanical compartment - but the giant oaken monster that kept the world beyond at bay was already six feet off the ground. Turning to the woman he was intent on not showing gratitude to, and the capable fighter that had saved him from getting his arse skewered, he nodded.
"If that gate goes up before the sergeants can put a stop to it, them black eyed bastards beyond the wall are gonna surge through. It'll be the end of us as we know it. You two head for the gate's mechanical compartment, see if you can help, I'm gonna go gather the Emperor's men in the courtyard," he paused to look up at the sun, "yup, looks like a good day to die. You got your orders, I'll see you in the clouds above!"
Trinton grappled a ladder mounted to the inside of the western wall, and slid down the rungs. He sent several more blasts through his whistle - and men, especially the more experienced of the garrison, flocked to him. Together they headed for the gate and formed a muddled shield wall, ready to brave the onslaught if the sergeants couldn't get the thing shut in time. He shivered as the floor trembled, and he eyed through the widening gap of the gateway an immeasurable line of warriors storming towards the breach.
"Archers!"
"Volley!"
"Fire at will!"
Sergeants were barking their frantic orders on the northern ramparts. The heart rending sound of a hundred bow strings being released at once gave hope the Captain, and he saw through the gate that the first rank of the barbarians had collapsed under a weathering wall of flighted death - but more surged forwards to bury those that had fallen under foot.
Too Old 4 This said
I think we are more than ready for an OOC. The map and unified theme is going to be the gamebreaker for me personally. If it's just people spitting up disconnected random sauce it's going to end up feeling fake. There needs to be that common element of theme and geography that ties them together. Otherwise you just wind up with...
I agree, although I would strongly advise against this theme being too restrictive on creativity. The selling point of this was that it's pretty much a sandbox; however, as Old has said, it'll need something tying things loosely together otherwise my character might go home to bake bread for the whole RP without ever perusing a greater goal. It wouldn't be much in the way of story, but you'd sure get an insight into medievalesque bread making!
I'll hopefully have something up about that city state I spoke of a few days ago, along with a map of the locality. The map is just an idea, and can be incorporated, cut or changed into the larger world.
Stay tuned.
EDIT:
Here's the map of my invented city state. I've got to pop out to get food, before I die of starvation, but when I get back I'll give it some back story.
© 2007-2026