YoshiSkittlez

X-men Noir: Let The Good Times Roll

Ouch, double edged sword either way...=/

Incursions

whats sandbox?

Incursions

I’m a rockstar, I’m a dealer

“Seventy-two…”

I’m a servant, I’m a leader

“Seventy-three…”

I’m a saviour, I’m a sinner, I’m a killer

“Seventy-four…”

I’ll be anything you want me to be

The ominous sound of a click echoed through the empty basement room, the once heavy bass and tendrils of the even heavier guitar lines abruptly stopped, leaving only the grunting sound coming from a male as he continued his seventy-fifth vertical sit up. The shirtless male arched his back, putting his body in an awkward looking bended shape as his bright golden eyes pierced the dark green eyes of his cousin.

“How about a maid? You’ve let my place go to shit.” The cross looking woman said folding her limber arms across her chest, looking up at the male with a dissatisfied expression.

The vertical position of the male forced the sweat from his legs to trickle up his flexed torso, up his neck and up to the very top of his head where it continued to drip off of him as he stared the female down. With an agitated sigh, he bent his torso up, practically folding his body in half as his fingers nimbly worked the metal restraints that had been clasped over his bare ankles, thus releasing the hold on him. With somewhat of a back-flip, the male fell to the floor deftly on the balls of his feet, bending at the knees to soften the blow some. He slowly straightened his back up, vertebrae by vertebrae until he was standing at his full six feet, two inches and ran his hand through his mess of sweaty hair. The sides of his head were shaved, leaving just a thick strip on the top of his head of hair to grow. Sure he could have put it into a mohawk if he wanted to, but that just wasn’t his style. He preferred the messy mop look. Hell, even if he wanted to try a different hairstyle, it was practically impossible for him to grow any hair on the left side of his head. A thick scar reaching from the back of his head wrapped around the top of his head, cutting just into the top of his eyebrow. It was a scar that probably should have had medical treatment, but instead was healed on its own, therefore still looking very raw despite the fact that he received the scar nearly a year ago.

Approaching the woman with his chest heaving as the sweat dripped down his body in the normal way now. He reached over her female’s shoulder, keeping his eyes on her and pushed the play button on his gigas-nano, the Ozzy Osbourne song picking right up where it had left off just moments ago. A bright red light emitted from the music player, displaying a laser-light up on the wall of a female dancer, supposedly nude, pole dancing to the beat of the music. The female glanced over to the bare wall that now had a red virtual prostitute dancing all over it and shook her head.

“Classy.”

“I told you not to interrupt me when I’m training.” The male’s voice said gruffly, a calloused tone in his natural voice sounding like he had been gargling rocks his whole life.

“Don’t be a twat Deon, I let you live here remember?” The female sighed. “Besides, I only came down here to remind you that I’m going to be gone this evening. I have a meeting I need to go to about project X-95.3. See there might have been some malfunction therefore we might have to do a total recall-“

“Kate.” Deon interrupted her, rolling his eyes. “I don’t care.”

Kate narrowed her already small eyes at her cousin, her middle finger subtly itching to flip him off.

“Just remember to not piss off A.D.A.M. again, I’m not about to leave my meeting just because you’ve been stuck with a neo-tranque dart again.”
Deon scoffed, picking up a dirty white rag from the floor and used it to wipe the sweat from his neck.

“You know, it might actually be cute if your little artificial system was real, but the way you talk about it sometimes makes me wonder if you’re into that weird ass cyber porn shit.” Deon countered but then waved Kate off before she could remark back at him. “But yeah, yeah, you got it. No problems from me. Besides, I work tonight, won’t be home until your hitting your snooze button.”

“Yeah, work.” Kate scoffed, unable to help rolling her eyes as she turned to head back up the stairs to the main part of her loft. She closed herself into the bathroom and finished applying her makeup. Some nude lipstick, brown eye-liner and black mascara; that’s just about as classy as Kate got. Flattening out the wrinkles on her small green dress with her hands, she gave herself a once-over look in her full body mirror before deciding ‘good enough.’ Leaving the bathroom, she picked up her car keys and left the safety of her home to travel the dangerous roads full of morons that didn’t know how to drive.

Deon finished wiping down his neck and glanced up at the neon colored digital clock on the wall. The entire basement of Kate’s loft had been transformed into Deon’s living space. It was dark, musty, unfinished…reminded him of his own room back in the fourteenth district actually, so he didn’t mind. He didn’t have time to start up another rep so he moved to his bathroom where he did a quick rinse down and dressed in new clothes of a beat-up looking grey wife-beater and a pair of black baggy cargo pants.

Moving over to where his mattress lay in the middle of the floor, he scooped out his sunglasses and headed up and out of the loft to the garage where he mounted his cycle. Pressing his thumb to the sensor bar, it whirred to life and Deon was off to ‘The Spit.’

X-men Noir: Let The Good Times Roll

You having a tough day jag?

X-men Noir: Let The Good Times Roll

lol 3 pm and Logan's already all broody. Good job Blackthorn XD

X-men Noir: Let The Good Times Roll

“It’s true.” Logan agreed to Scott’s statement about his own abilities, now addressing the others. “Thank God I found Scott when I did because his death rays are the only thing that I can shave with. Kinda tickles though.” Logan said looking back to Scott with a somewhat amused smirk on his face before turning back to the others, pointing out Kimberly to Scott first.

“Cover your ears for that one, Kimberly has built in sonar.” Logan went on, now gesturing towards Sam who’s name completely escaped his mind.

“Chuckles there lights up like a Christmas tree and takes off quick, clearing this entire room in just a few seconds.

Talon…” Logan paused as his attention was now on Atticus. He was talking with Alison about something and his keen hearing was able to pick up on the last of Alison’s words back to him.

…show me how to tumble before you show me how to rumble.

Logan’s expression darkened a bit, the nature of her reply sounded like…no…no he couldn’t be thinking like that, not right now. He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts and continued on talking with Scott.

“…he’s got claws like me. The girl standing next to him is Alison; she likes to break light bulbs.”

He was done introducing; his heart just wasn’t in it anymore. Something in his gut just wasn’t settling right, the fine hairs on the back of his neck standing up on end as his eyes stayed on both Talon and Alison.

“Anyway, were done down here anyway. Plenty of time for the others to show off later.” Logan remarked and stalked back upstairs to the main bar room. He met Charles half-way up the stairs and quickly explained that they were done there for now.

“Excellent. I do hope all of you can stay for an early dinner, my treat of course. Now…where is Mort with those supplies?” Charles turned around on the stair case with Snark and headed back up to the bar room with Logan quickly following behind. An early dinner? Great. He was hoping to skip out of here early with Yukiko, the two had so much to talk about but in light of the present company he couldn’t even so much as ask her a few questions.

Logan stalked over to the bar, going behind the counter and pulled down a dusty glass. Blowing on it a few times, he put the glass under the tap and poured himself a beer. It was nearly 3:00 pm, the hours of the morning had completely flown by. Taking a large gulp of his beer, Logan started to head towards one of the booths, his attention towards Charles.

“Fine, but everyone underage has got to be out by six.” Logan commented, sliding into the booth in the corner and continued to drink his beer.

Incursions

Still a work in progress, just wanted your guys’ opinions so far on my second idea for a character

---

Name: Katherine Riley Saunders

Age: 22

Appearance:


Personal Details:
Katherine, or Kate as she prefers to be called, grew up in the fourth district with a very comfortable life. She had good parents, a great childhood, a stable home, and a bright future. As a child, Kate’s imagination and prowess seemed to know no bounds. At first her teachers were rather worried about her intangible ability to ‘think outside the box’ at such an early age, but they later began to embrace it as she got older and joined clubs like the spelling bee or science club and continually brought home the blue ribbon for her school.

All through the rest of her school days, Kate remained ‘stuck’ to the science club, earning the interest of many different colleges as just a Sophomore to join their science department. Despite the wishes of the colleges, Kate remained as ‘normal’ as she could be and continued to graduate with the rest of her year and then had the selection of what college to attend to, full ride.

As Kate’s specialty and experience resides in robotics, she has a few prototypes of her own in her own home which proved to be better than a security system since she was broken into shortly before her cousin came to move in with her. The ‘prototype’ had successfully stuck the robber with a sleep dart, rendering him completely unconscious until Kate was able to call the cops after getting an alert on her phone about the break-in. Since her cousin has moved in, however, there have been a few accidents.

Occupation: Student of Science/Technology

District: 4

Additional:
W.I.P.

Incursions

Still a work in progress, just wanted your guys’ opinions so far.

---

Name: Deon Desmond Saunders

Age: 24

Appearance:


Personal Details:
Born into a very poor family as the oldest, Deon was forced to start working at a very young age, therefore not able to experience much of any kind of child-hood. He had only his mother and younger sister for family; he had never once met his father getting the rather illustrious nickname ‘bastard child’ and his sister had a different father, who died when Deon was 16 by a group of gang members wanting his wallet. At first Deon was just a messenger boy, delivering secret messages to organization members that were more than a bit sketchy, but he knew better than to ask questions. The pay was poor and he was lucky if he didn’t get beaten by his boss on a daily basis, even if he delivered on time. As Deon grew up, however, he left the job as a messenger boy and started working in a slaughter house, butchering up the livestock into fresh meat for his district to purchase at ridiculous prices. Deon soon grew bored of killing animals however, and when he was 21 he got a job fighting in the ring at a local bar. He found that fighting others was something he enjoyed, even if a bit too much.

Now known somewhat famously throughout the district and certainly bringing in more customers during the night, he earned a comfortable amount of money to provide for both his mamma and sister. His whole world came crashing down though as one night when Deon came home from work, he found his mamma and sister dead in their beds, stabbed maliciously, strangled, beaten…tortured. Unable to bear their memories any longer, Deon moved up from district 16 to district 4 with his younger cousin, though he was immediately granted a position as a fighter in ‘The Spit’ in another district. The commute doesn't bother Deon much, it's nice to get out of the 'rich' neighborhood once in a while. That was nearly a year ago, and the emotional wound that Deon carried has subsided some, but not much.

Occupation: Ring Fighter

District: 4

Additional:

W.I.P

Incursions

Should we PM you our CS's for approval or just post them here?

A Sci-Fi Intergalactic Imprisonment! Fight your way to freedom!

Alright everyone, let’s see if this sticks. I’ve had this idea in my head for a while and until recently I was able to make this into a 1 on 1 but my partner has mysteriously disappeared so I was thinking ‘why not turn this into a group rp?’ So here I am, and here are my thoughts…

Introduction and Set up

Your motive is first; survival. Second; escape.

Black. Pitch Black. Tani tried looking around her surroundings but not even the smallest glimmer of light nor reflection could be seen. Her body was currently on the floor with her wrists tied together behind her back and her ankles bound together as well. She rolled herself off of her back and onto her stomach where she tried to inch forward, but her forehead was immediately greeted with a cold, metal wall. She stretched out her feet a bit and they too met with another wall. She was trapped, and alone. She would have tried to scream if it hadn’t been for the collar restricted around her throat, allowing just enough air to pass through her lungs without passing out, but not enough to make any sounds. She wormed her body around until she was in an awkward sitting position, her back resting against the cool metal and closed her eyes. It had all happened so fast…

There was a sound of scraping metal and suddenly a stream of light entered the confined space, blinding Tani for a good while. She shut her eyes tightly to prevent any damage to her eyes and heard a couple pairs of footsteps clanging on the metal floor. Suddenly a pair of hands grabbed at her harshly, forcing her to her feet and then pushed her out towards the light. Tripping over her own feet, as they were still bound together, Tani collapsed out of the metal barge and out onto the soft terrain of her new destination. Dark brown mud caked to her blue face the moment she hit the ground as the entire area was soaking wet from the rain. It didn’t take long at all for her to get soaked as well, as the droplets were big and coming down hard. Another guard pulled her back to her feet, holding her forcibly by the neck around the metal collar still locked tightly around her neck and his second hand grasping a rod of some sort into her back. A second guard stooped over to unlock the metal bands that held her ankles together, and with a quick push of a button from the first guard, the end of the rod pressed into her back ignited into a high-intensity array of electricity. Tani tried to cry out in pain as the electrical shock coursed through her body, rendering her numb for a few moments but the guard pushed her forward, forcing her to walk.

She could feel people staring at her, and she knew exactly why. She kept her head down though, avoiding any eye contact with anyone save she might happen upon a certain race that had a personal vendetta against hers. She had been briefed on where it was she was going right before she lost consciousness in the barge, and therefore she knew why she was there. The rain did a steady job of smearing the mud off of her face and chest, though it only made her look messier. Still though, she continued to walk where she was directed; she’d do anything just to not have the guard press that button again.

A few minutes later, the guard had stopped which in turn caused Tani to stop. At first it was because she had thought that they had arrived at wherever it is that they were going, but when Tani looked up she had spotted what looked like a small girl, no older than eight. She was cowering in front of two of the guards, who apprehended her with force and started to strike her. Tani didn’t know what the girl did to deserve such treatment, and frankly she didn’t care. The larger portion of empathy in her heart tugged at her conscious and she could no longer just stand around and watch as the other races in the immediate area did; though some didn’t even do that, walking on by as if nothing were happening.

With the sound of what sounded like a hiss coming from her throat, Tani wrenched herself free from the guard and ran towards the guards with the little girl. Upon getting closer she noticed that the girl was of the Arian race. Light green skin, thick antennae, and known throughout the universe for their exceptional farming skills, a race that her own race was friendly with before their supposed extinction. Tani didn’t stop though, as the guard rose his hand to strike the girl once again, Tani rammed herself into his side, Earth football style and the two crashed into the mud. Her own guards had quickly caught up with her and pulled her back up to her feet. The guard whom she had knocked over stood up, wiped the mud from his uniform, pulled out what looked like a gun from his holster and point-blank shot the little girl through the head. Tani tried to scream in anger, though it was rendered useless and in fact made her feel very light-headed. She was then forced to what looked like a metal pole in the middle of the area and was quickly bound to it, her chest pressing against the pole and her back exposed. The guards exchanged orders to one another until one finally stepped forward with a leather whip with electricity sparking from it. The guard pulled back his arm, and began his assailing attack on the Rhevarian; the rarest race in existence.

Notable Species

The Ebolorians

A race of aliens that have been running an intergalactic entertainment show for nigh on centuries where species from all over the universe are locked in a variety of contests and battles. The species are very large, powerful, and extremely witty. Their numbers are vast and they are the sole masters of the universe and you.

---

The Rhevarians

The Rhevarians are an exceptionally rare race thought to have been eliminated many centuries ago. The only proof of their current existence is a single Rhevarian recently captured by the Ebolorians. History tells us the race of Rhevarians lived on a cold climate planet of ice, living underground in vast colonies and thrived as scholars, being the first race to make contact with other 'alien' races. As the Rhevarians are smart, their combat skills are severely lacking. For protection on their planet, they always relied on their devices or technology to do the fighting for them. They have no powers and are very awkward with weapons.

---

Humans

Humans are another incredibly rare sight; at least, pure humans are. Considered one of the weakest races in the galaxy as far as mind and body go, the humans were disregarded as ‘trash’ though they seemed to be good at one thing…breeding. The female human was able to carry the child of almost any race, therefore bringing in a slew of entirely new alien races of Humanoids. There have been a handful of pure humans enslaved on the Home planet, though they never usually last very long.

---

Humanoids

Humanoids vary from a being having six arms and twelve eyes to a being that looks like a regular human, but has other alien-like qualities. Humanoids are considered the new ‘trash’ of the galaxy as they are not pure blooded in their own race and have pure human blood in there somewhere. Humanoids are the most common of the alien species however, which is why it is rumored that the arena was built to help eliminate the inferior races.

*note, there are other alien races out there, you may use whatever you would like (if your CS is approved of course. We still want everything to fit well together)

The World

The Ebolorians use a former moon they hollowed out as a sort of a base for their mother ship that is simply called ‘Home Planet’ or ‘Home.’ The inside of the moon is home to thousands of biomes they can manipulate which they use as the arena to house their shows. In the very center a structure was made to hold the prisoners along with a center molten core that is controlled and used as an infinite power source.

There has been no up rise against the Ebolorian race, as the aliens have been able to continue to capture other aliens throughout the universe through government takeovers, taking prisoners of war or even simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Some species however pay them off to broadcast this show to them which they get a lot of support from and in turn don’t get enslaved themselves, so the demand for entertainment seems to be in a higher regard than the freedom of the alien races.

Living Accommodations and Status

Although its considered illegal, murders of other players do occur and quite often outside the arena, sometimes people would get off easy with being jumped and only temporarily injured or possibly maimed. There is a surgical staff that will attend to those injured outside of the arena, though only half make it through surgery without an infection of some sort.

The lowest ranked are placed in cages and kept in a place known as the 'Underground' which is nothing more than a sewage system with cages of different sizes and shapes lining the ceiling and walls. More often than not a prisoner or two will manage to escape and break into the surface, although frowned upon this actually isn't illegal and underhanded tactics such as this to increase one's rank is encouraged. The overall goal of this city is to work from the Underground to the slums, building your rank and fame within the arena until you aspire to Class S which only has 3 spots. At this point you are able to contest one of the former S class for their spot or challenge all three for a chance at freedom.

Depending on how many fans you had scores your overall level, level and class are vastly different. Level places your approval rating within the audience which can help sway your Class or give you slight benefits during contests while Class is the rank in which the Order recognizes you at. Both can be improved by doing things the audience may remember such as brutal killings, tactical moves or something else that you can use to stand out. Some inmates choose to be very flashy, coming up with titles and fake stories for their characters while others simply view this as a living hell they're forced to live. After each match, the surviving contestants are put to sleep with a noxious gas before being collected and placed into the medical bay where expert technicians will help recover all they can and make sure the vitals are still strong. Contestants viewed as too weak to survive are placed back in the arena in a display of sacrifice, either to some unknown deity or simply for show.

Class C - Standard Prisoners, used to fill bulk in some competitions or simply placed as easy and more longer term matches particularly placed around gruesome deaths and savage-like weapons (ie. pieces of trash as bludgeoning weapons, rusted blades, throwing/sling based ranged technology. Most combatants are encouraged to use their hands. Most range between Level 100-85 with the lowest being a record level 79 who seems to choose living in the Underground claiming 'Down here they don't realize I exist.'

Class B - Slightly elevated, Prisoners here tend to live in either the Slums or a middle district. Some here aspire to become stars and this is the level which separates the men from the boys. More often than not the prisoners will be placed against unfair odds, this level holds the highest mortality rate simply because of the vast amounts of prisoners that attain this rank only to be put to death early on. Those from this level can range from 90 down to 45.

Class A - The 'Pro' level of competitions. These warriors are seen as something between stars and heroes, each have their own personalities and specialties which the Order takes into consideration when picking those of this level. Often those in Class A will be assigned team leader positions on large scale competitions or are regularly subject to brutal situations which focus more on the mental and physical stamina aspect of living instead of pure brutal combat. Unlike the former Classes, one must be at least level 25 to attain Class A.

Class S - The premium level of competition. Although they hold a special place in the eyes of the Order these figures are often kept as quiet as possible to keep a level of mysteriousness about them and to give them the element of surprise against anyone daring to challenge them. Those who've existed in the Prison for so long say this whole system is corrupt, the Class S are severely overpowered and mutated version of long forgotten inmates. Unlike other inmates the Class S hold their own Levels they share with no one which are 1 ,2 and 3 respectively.

Other Ideas

Before the competition there could be a wall or chest of just gear and you're allowed to pick 1-3 things and move on. Maybe as rewards for winning you get an extra item or first pick, maybe you get to pick your team or influence who you want on your team

The Games can range from one on one to the death battles, to team group battles of a hundred each that play a brutal game of ‘capture the flag.’

I also like the idea of there being loot in the arenas. Possibly some kind of pod that holds a single item or piece of an item, ammunition or something like that? Maybe the more the Order likes you or dislikes you, they could control what items you get?

I totally think that the supernatural should be implemented, because of course there are vast different races and species of prisoners out there, so to that I say the possibilities are endless. Personally I may give my character a secret or hidden ability that she discovers while being there, but I'm not quite sure yet.

There could be a 'police force' of guards/enforcers for the Prison that could snatch women off the street for the prince or simply for themselves, others may just enjoy publicly humiliating or beating the prisoners.