Regarding Chaacter sketches, since it was mentioned at least twice now.

I don't mean to sound crass when I say this, but I'm not the slightest bit concerned about them. As long as you're 120% homosapian, I don't care.
These can be posted here, though. I always love to see unique character concept art. It's usually hit or miss. In an RP like this, I'd prefer a real picture to capture the realistic, gritty tone of the story, rather than artwork. But again, when it comes to pics, I usually don't care one way or another.

What I care about is the writing sample I'll eventually need from you. Focus on that for the moment. That sample will need to be in-genre. And I don't mean the best post from an RP you did last year. I mean a post focusing around the character you plan to use (or at least in the o cupation/role(s) you want to use), in the setting of the story. I know we haven't even started yet, but just have fun, get liberal with details. It's just a sample.

I'll be determining the final cut based on these samples. It all comes down to the IC for me.

OutlawTorn said
Well, we've got one Alcoholic (Leon Blackthrone). The ghost of the daughter thing sounds really weird. I gotta admit it raises a tiny red flag somewhere in recesses of my mind. Things like that can get very played out and annoying, very fast. But having said that, I don't know exactly how you would approach it. Getting hammered and talking to her is one thing, having conversations with an apparition on a regular basis would probably get old and mildly cheesy in a hurry.But I'm all for different, strange, and otherwise fringe. That's what sets me apart as a writer. I don't do what's already been done.

Honestly the hope is for it to come off as more of a quirk than something cheesy. I was actually angling toward a more flicker at the edge of the character's vision kind of thing than a "I'm having a conversation with my dead daughter" thing. I think it would be interesting to use it as part of the character's moral compass. More of a reminder of past wrongs and the things you should have done but don't always do

Do you have a time frame in mind for the writing samples? like am i looking at a 24 hour turn around or something a little longer?

Do your constant references to being completely homosapien rule out cybernetic evolution? This is obviously a much higher-evolved society than our present one; is there something that stopped cybernetics from becoming commonplace/feasible?

Well, I had some time, so decided to get this hammered out.

John almost slipped to his knees. The ground underneath his feet shuddered violently from the force of a nearby VTOL personnel carrier firing its main engines. A blue funnel of flame erupted from the massive thrusters down into the ground, crystallizing the soil below. John felt the sound deep in his gut as the ship slowly lifted off and aimed its nose for the blue sky above. He sighed in relief as the pressure on his chest lifted.

"Damn, never get used to that," said the heavily armored trooper next to him. "You OK there Doc? You look a little rattled."

"I'm fine, thanks," he said, straightening up. "We need to get to work, where's our first triage zone?" John reached into a shoulder pouch and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Hell, this one looks bad," he said as he scanned the battlefield surrounding him. Flaming heaps of twisted wreckage scarred the landscape, and bodies in various states of injury littered the space between them.

The soldier pulled a data pad out from a backpack at his feet. "Orders say we start in the northeast and work our way down from there. Prioritize officers and technicians, elminate any enemy forces found. Standard ops."

John lifted the cigarette to his lips and flicked his lighter's sparker. "Let's get a move on then. Every second is more lost blood,' he said, exhaling a stream of smoke.

A quick hike to the northeast revealed the extent of the damage. Of the few survivors, many would be missing limbs - or worse. John knelt down next to an unconscious officer with a four foot long shard of metal through his leg and blood pooling on the ground around him. He clicked a vial of local anesthetic into his injector a set it against the man's leg. About to depress the plunger, he felt a weak hand on his shoulder. "Who... who are you?"

"I'm a doctor. Relax, this will be over soon." John pressed down and with a quick hiss the drug entered the man's thigh muscle.

"Please... what happened? Where is... everyone else?" The man was now struggling to stand up - the anesthetic acted quickly.

"I need you to stay still. Calm down, or you'll lose blood more quickly." John reached down for a fresh lancet. The sun flashed off the blade as John brought it to the man's leg and began a series of small, precise cuts around the shaft of metal. "All I can tell is you what I know. Rumor is Command recieved some bad intelligence and underestimated the amount of indigenous on this planet. Command didn't know they'd have so much firepower either."

"How many dead?"

"No official numbers yet. I think we may be leaving more behind than we're taking back."

Tears began to well in the man's eyes. John would have liked to have thought it was from the spear of steel through his leg, but he knew better. He had seen enough broken men on the field to know one when he saw it. He realized then just how young the man really was.

"H-how, how could this happen? This isn't right. This isn't what I thought it would be." The man reached up to rub at his forehead, leaving a black streak of grime behind.

"What did you expect when you graduated that academy? Parades and medals? Now, hold on to something, this is going to hurt." John grasped the metal shard and began drawing it upwards and out of the officer's leg. The man screamed raggedly, tears now flowing openly onto his dirty cheeks.

"There, done." John tossed the bloody spear down and began packing gauze into the now open wound. He wrapped a clean bandage around the man's leg, then poured water into a plastic cup from his bag. "Drink this. You need to rehydrate. You should be able to make it until they evac you to a proper medical center. Stay here, don't try to walk. Don't touch the wound, and try to stay calm."

"Wait, you can't just leave me here. Please... I need to see my family." The man's eyes were wide with fear and he was gasping for breath; he began to shift forward again.

John placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "I need to attend to others. You'll be safe here." John passed the man a small pill. "If the pain returns, take this." Looking up, he saw his trooper escort motion to come over. He stood up and walked over.

The soldier waved with his data pad. "Time's up. HQ says there's another group of indigenous inbound, and we don't want to be here when they arrive."

John frowned. "And what about all these injured?"

The soldier was quiet for a moment behind his helmet. "Evac is on its way. That's not your concern." He motioned towards a hill around 400 feet away where a much smaller VTOL was now landing, still hot from atmospheric re-entry. "There's our ticket out, come on, let's go."

John glanced back towards the man he had treated. "Fuck this," he said under his breath, then turned and walked towards the ship.

15 Years Later

The steady pulse of a heart rate monitor provided a fitting backdrop for the tension in the operating room as surgeon Johnathan Raleigh completed his 64th heart transplant. "All right, let's close her up." The nurses and technicians around him spun into action as he stepped back and released a breath that felt like it had been held for hours. Even after five years as a field medic, then fifteen as a trauma surgeon on Atmos Prime, he still got an adrenaline rush from the pressure of another person's life in his hands.

He stepped into the adjoining prep room and peeled off his bloody gloves, tossing them into a hazmat receptacle built into the wall. Turning on the faucet, the feeling of warm water over his tired hands was exquisite. He couldn't avoid a glance in the mirror above the sink as he scrubbed. At 45 years old, he had more than just a dash of gray in his otherwise dark brown, almost black, hair. In his opinion, he had never been particularly handsome, with somewhat angular and rigid features. He did, however, prize the deep sea green eyes he had inherited from his mother. They were a reminder of her, and a source of motivation to aspire to the same high ideals she set for herself when she was alive.

He finished up changing into his standard jeans and black button-down and stepped out of the prep room into one of the many hallways of the medical center. He looked at his watch. 22:46. His shift had ended sixteen minutes ago, and he was on-call for the upcoming weekend. Maybe he would have a chance to relax a bit after all.

"Congratulations on another successful surgery, Doctor Raleigh. Or should I refer to you by your full title? What's it these days, again? Senior Trauma Surgeon? Well, they got the senior part right at least."

John turned to see a man about his age with a shock of blonde hair and a mischevious smile that he knew all too well. His broke into a smile of his own. "Hello Will. Good to see you looking so clean, I would have thought you'd be covered in puke from the neonatal unit."

Will grimaced. "My god, if I have to spend another day pulling those little bastards out I swear I'm going to resign and go into law like my father always told me to."

John laughed, "I'm sure you'll make it through - we all have to pay our dues every once in a while."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. So, you off as well? Want to hit up that new bar in downtown tonight? I hear one of the lab techs got a second job there and really knows her way around a pipette, if you catch my drift." Will smirked and began walking towards the exit, gesturing for John to follow.

John walked after him. "Really? A pipette? That's pretty awful, even for you. Anyway, even if I wanted to, I couldn't. I'm on call for the weekend, so no joy."

Will frowned. "On call? Again? You work too much man, time to take a freaking break."

John laughed again. "That's just how it is."

They stepped out into the brisk night air, the lights of the city shining like jewels. John stopped and turned to Will.

"Well, hope you have fun tonight. Remember, I'm not bailing you out if you end up in the drunk tank."

"C'mon John, that's what friends are for. Well, whatever. Enjoy a weekend spent sitting in your apartment. If you decide you want to get some fresh air, give me a call." Will turned to leave, waving lazily as he headed out into the parking lot towards his low-altitude shuttle.

John hailed a taxi shuttle and let his mind wander as they flew through the massive superstructure that was the city. Out among the stars and planets. Out beyond Atmos Prime. What was there? He had gotten to see such a small amount of it during his stint as a field medic, and everything he saw was the worst of what the galaxy had to offer. He knew there must be more, some greater meaning, and he wondered if he could find it out there among all those sparkling jewels.

He punched in the code to his apartment door and immediately flopped down on the couch. Reaching for a roll of paper towel, he tore one off and quickly brought it to his mouth as he coughed deeply. Pulling it away, he saw the usual flecks of blood. "Damn." He tossed it into a waste basket and lit a cigarette, staring up towards the ceiling. It was time for a change.

Yes, yes, I got the point the first time you said it. I was just seeking to find something reasonably close to a real life example to have an anchor for my thought process. as you have said, the organization of Nexus doesn't matter that much for us, and I get that. But as a sci fi reader, I was looking for something similarly comprehensible in real life that I could use to help understand it as you described it. And as I said in my last post and as you said as well, it doesn't matter that much, so I will stop talking about it.

Now then, to start planning out characters. I already have a decent handle on what I want my espionage specialist to be like, but I've gotta work out the others. Decision, decisions.

Count me interested as well. I could go for a tech specialist and/or field agent role.

When will the OOC be up to start posting our writing samples?

I'm interested in the sniper position and/or the pilot position. The espionage specialist position sounds promising as well.

No Kiddo, you can't be a cybernetic being.

120% HUMAN. For the 3rd time.

I'll get back to everyone else later today. Just wanted to post this:

I really like the Alcubierre Drive idea, but we have to change the name. Alcubierre was a man of Earth, and earth does not exist.

The exotic matter required to generate negative energy is a dense crystal ore with a very dark purple color. In dim light, it appears solid black. But when held in bright light, a rich purple hue flows through it's surface.

This matter was discovered in abundance on a lifeless planet, and has since been found on other planets in small, isolated veins deep under the surface.

A solid chunk the size of a softball can power a "Alcubierre" Drive for an extended period of time.

---

What if one person played both tech specialist? That would certainly make things easier for that person. There specialty as a player would almost become the Rps technology.

---

By the way, when I said we already have an alcoholic, I didn't mean it ruled out having another, just thought it was something you should be aware of.

Leon is a functioning alcoholic, our Captain and Chief Agent. He's not the sort of guy to head into a mission drunk or anything, but he's completed many 'a missions hung over. He's one hell of an Agent, Captain, and friend.

He drinks to numb the agony, guilt, and self-loathing which he feels as a direct result of this job. As the Chief Agent, Leon has been a part of more missions than any other member of our crew. Not everyone takes part in every mission. If Sam B. or our sniper are clearly required for a mission, they will be on the team. But with no clear need for explosives or a sharpshooter, to bring them along would be a waste. You have to remember all Agents are highly trained soldiers. Any of us can operate a sniper rifle, or explosives. Mind you, we have specialist for a reason. No one can handle a rifle like our sniper. He/she is a master of sharpshooting. Just as Samantha is a master of demolition.

As Captain and Chief Agent, Leon is one of the most versatile members our crew, if not the most. He has a vast understanding of Nexus rules and protocol, as well as various planets and cultures of the galaxy. He also has a basic knowledge of the engineering behind The Valiant. He's no engineer, and we'd be fucked without one, but he's not entirely in the dark. He can also pilot/co-pilot our ship. Part of his past was attending and graduating pilot's school back in the Academy on Atmos Prime, before he was an Agent. But after graduating, Nexus expressed their desire for Leon to fulfill his obligation to the Nexus Army (where he began his journey through the Academy). This lead to him becoming a member of an Infantry squad for the beginning of his career. Somewhere he was not happy, but it did bring him back to his childhood friend from their home world of Arcadia. Sinamoi Sevantese, his best friend. Years ago, they signed up for the Nexus Fleet Academy, and were separated for years before reuniting on the battlefield.

They stuck together, transferring squads and eventually became Agents together on a ship run by a man named Simeon Locke. A legendary Agent, Captain, and the leader of the most prestigious vessel in the Nexus Fleet. That is until Leon Blackthorne was mysteriously and abruptly given his own ship. Reluctantly, Leon agreed to lead a unit rather than face imprisonment (for disobeying orders) on the condition that he handpick his crew. High Command was hesitant, but for some reason, they wanted Leon to command The Valiant.

First, Leon requested Sinamoi Servantese and Samantha Briggs be transferred to his team from Locke's crew.

Then Leon would have tracked down, and hired each and every one of you one by one for individual reasons. You are supposed to be the best of the best in each of your respective fields. (That's why the doctor who abruptly changed fields, or the alcoholic, unstable engineer sort of sketched me out and made me a little nervous)

In time, after the RP develops a bit (most likely after we've gone rogue), I want to elaborate on that using flashbacks to show how Leon found and recruited each member of the crew.

---

And writing samples can be posted here, pm'd to me, etc. I won't be starting an OOC until I have a group I'm confident in. Otherwise this will fall into the Solo category of my Rps, and I'll brave the first story alone, try the group direction again for Neb 2. BUT it hasn't come to that yet! Far from it. :)

No time limit for Samples. take your time if you want in on this. I've got a handful of people interested, so make sure your Sample stands out, speaks directly to me, and this story.

I hate to say it's so, but this RP may not take place on this site.

Upon my coming here, I was mislead greatly.

So ... is this not happening then?

VikingLogic said
So ... is this not happening then?

I'd like to know as well. Has this been abandoned?