The quiet was smothering. The quiet had been there for some time; it had been there since the Flash, it had been there after, and it had been there when the whirring helicopter blades of Alpha Team 416 tore right through it. The stillness of it all was frightening, almost imposing. As though it was all something that ought to be left undisturbed and unshaken, as though God himself feared it. The whirring, heavy blades of Alpha Team 416's Intercopter H-42 broke that quiet, shattered it like glass, upending the silence, and uprooting whatever else the quiet may have kept hidden away underneath it's suffocating reach. The loudness of the aircraft was almost arrogant in a way, as though the whole planet recoiled at the audacity of this Intercopter H-42, the audacity it had to be so damn loud.

The quiet had been there, and then all of a sudden, with the sun hanging high in the sky, it wasn't. The Intercopter began it's descent from the sky, falling precariously the way a leaf would from a tree in an autumn chill. The sun diffused behind it, creating something of a halo around the ship. An onlooker might have seen it and been given the impression of a divine intervention, a message from the powers that be, and the truth would not be so far off. As the aircraft touched down, it's landing shock absorbed by the suspension, and the blades began to slow down and eventually stop their furious whirring, the quiet returned, if only just for a moment. But just as quickly as it had returned, it was expelled, as the Intercopter's main door made a hissing noise as the inner chamber decompressed, and the door began to slide open. The door slid on it's rails, revealing the Intercopter's true cargo. A man stepped from the copter onto sliding walk way which had extended from the aircraft, decked head to toe in military garb. With his team behind him, he took one look around at the unsightliness of it all, and promptly tapped his wristpad, radioing in, "This is Alpha 416, we've touched down. I repeat, we've touched down. Control...you're not going to like this."

Earth is facing the edge. It is almost its time, and that time has been long coming. Decades of warfare and hapless plunder of her resources has left her tired, and she can no longer sustain the greed of our race. Earth was a gift, but she was treated like any child does when they grow bored of their new toy; bended, exploited in every which way, humanity having tried to turn into something it ought not to be. She had to submit to the whim of men with the tempers and egos of animals, savages borne unto a dying race, doing their worst unto a dying world. When the last of the wells had been dug dry, the insatiable hunger of humanity was not satisfied. They would dig to the very core of the Earth if they had to; in fact, they would. Technology was an ever-advancing wavefront, outpacing humanity's restraint, moving too fast for them to acknowledge that what they were doing was wrong, that to make oneself above God tempted his wrath, that no mortal should tangle with the smite of the divine. Large new, intergalactic conglomerations formed, promising expanding colonies into the solar system. Mars, the moon, the moons of Saturn; if you could lay your eyes upon it in the night sky, humanity had to have it, had to be able to claim it as theirs. Whilst they greedily looked to the stars, back home, the wells rang dry.

But in dramatic fashion, a fix was found at humanity's eleventh hour. The world now runs on Axium, a mineral found deep in the Earth's mantle. The Great Resource Wars, which had raged for centuries over the dwindling supply of fossil fuels and was what many thought would be the harbinger of humanity's end, could finally be proclaimed as over. There was no reason to tear each other apart anymore; there was a new shiny toy, a new plaything to exploit and bend and warp and pervert to accommodate their own self-serving desires. The mineral, discovered by a French scientist to have absolutely absurd implications for the energy indsutry after finding out by accident that a single kilogram of it could do the same work as 5 kilotons of fossil fuels, was the fulcrum that the human war machine sat upon, shifting it's focus from one object of fascination to the next. It was a self-fullfilling prophecy, really, with nations razing entire opposing cities in order to get their hands on the mineral that would further feed their burgeoning warhawk egos. With the new energy source of Axium, things never before thought possible suddenly became possible: the space colonization past the Solar System that so many wanted finally became feesable with new Axium-powered vessels; all sorts of new weaponry created from the divine mandate of science; cybernetic implants and the host of gray-area moral dilemmas that came with them; the list goes on and on. But Humanity never could see the bigger picture, no, because at base they are savages. Savages, savages that war and horde and sleep and feed; they escaped the apocalypse narrowly once, and yet they seemed set on tempting the scales of fate yet again.

The funny thing about is history is that it has an uncanny habit of repeating itself, almost as though it's testing us to see if we learned anything from the rumblings of the past; it almost begs us, pleads us to answer correctly, that after all that violence, bloodshed, and death, the least we could do was have learned something. The hand of history has come knocking again, and this time it seems intent upon taking humanity whole away with it. The last of the Axium cores are being mined as we speak, and the mineral that runs the world's cars, buses, trains, computers, washing machines, power lines, electric toothbrushes, plasma cannons, artificial intelligence that provides the backbone to entire nation's military, phones, TVs, cybernetic implants, treadmills.... all of it, all of it will be gone. A global shutdown seems imminent, and governments are already preparing for the doomsday contingent that their stockpiles go dry. Power outages on a global scale are expected to hit en masse, and we've already begun to see that happen. Huge swathes of Europe, Asia, and the Americas are out of power, and currently it's being masqueraded as a minor mishap, an inconsequential hiccup. This is where you come in, soldier. This is your fight now, and the fate of a race that doesn't deserve saving is firmly in your hands. But you knew that coming into this, didn't you?

You will be assigned to Alpha Team 416. You are not the first Alpha Team and you will not be the last Alpha Team that the United Nations will commission. Everything we've told you here today is of utmost secrecy and are deemed Schedule 3 Clearance Required by the International Committee, and to break the non-disclosure agreement you signed upon agreeing to this briefing will be met with your immediate, and swift termination. Your mission is simple; we've recorded trace amounts of Axium in Planet C-12's atmosphere. The scanning devices are powerful enough to tell us if there is Axium in that planet's systems, but not enough to tell us how much, or more importantly, if it's enough to be worthwhile an extraction mission. Your job is to get in, investigate, find samples if any are to be had, set up an outpost to take down planetary recordings, and get the hell out. The planetary recording equipment will take a couple days to calibrate and scan Planet C-12's mantle composition, and once you've got those recordings you're instructions are to pack up and leave. It simple, nothing more, nothing less. With that, I thrust the balance of a world into your hands. We have the utmost faith in you solider... Good luck, and god speed.

• This is going to be a roleplay based around us, Alpha Team 416. This will be a squad of 6 - 7 highly trained Space Marines commissioned by the United Nations to figure out if there's enough Axium on Planet C-12 to make a mining mission worthwhile. We are the reconnaissance, a simple escort run that promises good pay and an easy job... or so it seems at first glance.
• This is a lo-sci-fi setting. Think cybernetic implants, not androids; Think military grade, somewhat clunky space-travel, not super fast consumer grade flying cars; Think enhanced combat suits, not giant fighting mechs; think Axium-powered-Thermo-Blades not Lightsabers; you get the picture.
• Each soldier is given a standard issue CombatTech Suit and a Combat Carbine. The combat suit filters oxygen in and toxins out, and provides night vision and overlay HUD which allows squad members to highlight certain things and relay info onto fellow squad member's interface. The the suit is also made of auto-sealing highly durable nanofibers that provide a comparable effect to that of a kelvar vest. They have been implanted with tracking chips that broadcast back to the UN their location. The rest is up to you.
• Be creative with your characters! Our characters were chosen for this mission for a specific reason; they are the best of the best, the elite of the elite. Is your character a cooped-up demolitions expert? A highly trained, highly armed botanist, expert on growing super-charged plants using Axium? Is your character an expert battle mechanic, armed with a consumate fixing ability? A gunner addicted to huffing Axium? A secret agent sent from an anarchist terrorist group intent on ruining the entire mission? Like I said, be creative (feel free to steal one of these ideas even)! This universe is a playground, and I fully endorse you taking creative liberties with your character, so I would love for you to throw ideas out there.
• I've been apart of enough roleplays to know that a roleplay that lollygags and takes its time to get to where it wants to go is a roleplay that will find itself dead within the first fifty posts. That will not happen here; we are going to hit the ground running to avoid the shoals of a slow start, which is why we will pick right up off where our characters are getting off the ship and onto the Planet C-12 in question. Things are going to move fast, and the main plotline and issue is going to reveal itself fast, and we're going to keep this thing alive. The obverse of that is that if you're not willing to stick through with this roleplay and are just going to stop posting a week after you submit your CS because you've lost interest, please just don't join.
• As I've already hinted at, this is not going to be just an easy and simple extraction mission—that would be incredibly boring and pointless. No, there will be... complications, that will arise from the very first post I will make (like I said, we're going to hit the ground running), and I'm going to reveal the issues we will face fairly quickly, but for now I'll let the suspense do the rest.

• Roleplaying is a collaborative experience. Collabs are paramount, and if you haven't done them before expect to do them here. It's pretty easy, just PM with eachother your posts and then one of you posts your interaction on the main thread. Gets rid of filler.
• Usual rules. Im not going to go into them, we all know them; dont godmod, notify of absence, be nice, what have you. You know the rules. Just use common sense.
• While this is a high casual roleplay, I recognize that we cannot always hammer out 2-3+ paragraphs, and eventually our writing just ends up being substance-less filler. For this reason, I'm not going to fault people for shorter posts every once in a while, as I get it that you can't always be expected to do so. However, 2-3+ paragraphs (w/ good grammar & spelling) would be appreciated, especially if it has good content and substance.
• Talking in the OOC is the lifeblood of any roleplay. As strange as that sounds, the key to a long and healthy roleplay is a lively OOC with constant shitposting. When the OOC gets quiet, that is a sign to me that my roleplay is beginning to go to the light, so keep the OOC talking and active and I'll be a happy GM (and don't be worried about shitposting in the OOC, I guess is what I am saying)

Before I throw this character sheet at you, I just wanted to say a few things; a foreword, if you will. First of all, please make your character sheets look nice. It just shows to me that you have put basic effort into not making your CS look like shit, and I would greatly appreciate it, as it would make it easier on my eyes. I know this makes me sound trite and picky, but I genuinely believe in having a neat and orderly character sheet. In that same school of thought, please don't post a WIP sheet, it just looks gnarly and tacky. Post the complete version, or don't post it all.

Second, PM me your Character Sheets; don't post. The reason I am doing this is because there's only going to be 5-7 slots for this roleplay, as thats how many player characters there will be in our squad, Alpha Team 416. I don't know how much interest this roleplay will get; we might only get a couple CSes, we might get 10+, who knows. The point being, it may just be the first 5-7 that post CSes that get the spots, or I might have to pick the best ones. Thus is the cononundrum of running such a small roleplay, as its impossible to include everyone. I guess that also means you guys will have more incentives to make thoughtful, interesting, and unique characters. Like I said in my preamble, get creative, I honestly am super down to incorporate any ideas you have even if it means incorporating new plot-lines into my own overarching story line I have planned.

Anyways, here she is:

𝘕𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬-𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺'𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘥-𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘴; 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘈𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘊𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘈 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘶𝘣𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱; 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘥𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘓𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘺 "𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘑𝘦𝘵" 𝘚𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘯 7𝘵𝘩 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵. 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺 𝘎𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘰𝘵𝘪, 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘯𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘬𝘶𝘭𝘭. 𝘉𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘺 "𝘉𝘪𝘨 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦" 𝘎𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘪 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘫𝘦𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘊𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘨𝘮 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘧𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘸𝘯 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘢 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢-𝘣𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘴.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘈𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘊𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳; 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘮𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴. 𝘐𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘈𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘊𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺, 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘚𝘦𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘪𝘵𝘴' 𝘴𝘬𝘺𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘦. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘍𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘰𝘯𝘴.

---

The Corleone are known for the braun, and show of force. This Italian Mafia would rather show than tell, and trust me, nobody wants a round of show and tell from the Corleone. Headed by the ruthless Giovanni Corleone, the majority of their rackets follow the same tactic; use a show of force to extort money out of victims, or as they put it, to offer "protection." Every speakeasy or pub on the South East side has got a Corleone strongman lurking in its' doorways, watching and waiting. The Corleone's ruthless reputation proceeds them, but what truly strikes fear into the heart of the underbelly of Atlantic City is the Corleone's therianthropic tendencies. Werewolves, werecats, werespiders -- you name it; the Corleone all have the ability to transform themselves into an animal. Don Giovanni Corleone himself is known to transform into a ferocious, golden lion when the situation calls for it.



The North East Outfit knows no sole race, no sole culture. The North East Outfit is simply a conglomeration of those who needed it -- Italians, Russians, Irish, et cetera. They are a patchwork of different cultures and perspectives, and in this they are far different from the other four Atlantic City powerhouses. Members of the Northeast Outfit are anything and everything from drug-pushing dwarves to fairies serving as pack-mules. Their powers know no uniformity from person to person, their culture a mixing pot of all who enter. They are headed by a committee known as the Comission, which every year cycles through different members to be promoted to leadership. The idea is that this will make it harder for rival gangs to sever the head of the snake — it becomes harder to stamp out the resiliency of a group if their leadership is constantly revolving. Currently, the Comission is headed by four members: a Russian Pyromage, two Irish twins who are snakebloods, and a Japanese vampire.



The Kriminelet is Atlantic City's equivalent of the Albanian Mafia. Although the upper echelon of the group all hail from Albania, in order to bolster their manpower the mid to lower ranks have grown to become densely populated by all sorts of Eastern European folk, including Russians. They are assuredly the smallest of the Five Families, both in terms of territory and numbers wise, however what they lack in size they make up for in stealth and cunning. The Krimenelet are renowned for their adeptness in the art of stealth and their worship of deception. They've got eyes and ears all over Atlantic City; little goes unnoticed by the Kriminelet. They make their bread and butter in the trade of contraband — their keenness for duplicity allows for easy smuggling routes in and out of Atlantic City. Those who are members of the Kriminelet are those who follow the path of the shadow; Vampires, Shadowmages, and all the things that go bump in the night. Their leader, Afrodita Kelmendi, a 213 year old witch, has run the clan ever since any one can remember, and her vast network of spies, moles, and smugglers is unrivaled.



The Arm of Kiev is one of Atlantic City's oldest and most powerful crime syndicates. This Russian mob is known for their adeptness in the arcane arts, with mages, warlocks, and wizards making up their ranks. Because of the vast capabilities of the magical field, knowing what to expect when going into battle with the Arm of Kiev can be difficult; one never knows what type of magician one will run into. Their claim to fame is heisting an ancient stone tablet from Atlantic City's Archeological National Museum some fifty years ago, which many in the city gossip is the true source of the mob's strength in magic. Whether this rumor holds any water is unknown, but the Arm of Kiev keeps the tablet locked away in a safehouse under the strict supervision of some fifteen different mages constantly rotating around the clock, and is rumored to be protected by an ancient arcane seal that was so powerful it consumed the wizard who had cast it. The clan is run by their leader, who goes simply by Ibrahimanov, and is said to be a Pyromage of unrivaled proportions.



The Guangzhou is something of a strange mixture of Chinese Triad culture and the Japanese Yakuza's. After throngs of immigrants from Asia and the Pacific poured into Atlantic City in the early 1900s, these poor immigrants faced much duress and discrimination at the hands of the city's inhabitants. Although the syndicate initially found its roots in the Chinese triads, the Guangzhou grew to incorporate all manner of Asian immigrants into their ranks. This has led to the syndacite being run under the dual-leadership of the Dragonblooded Yakuza and the Lightkin of the Triads. The Dragonbloods are known for the scaled wings protruding from their backs and their mastery of the Dragon tongues——and are even rumored to know a thing or two about taming and riding Wyverns. The Triad Lightkin comprise of lightmages, fairies, angels, and every other emissary of the light that one can think of——but don't be fooled by their mirage of purity. This palpable schism in the two cultures and styles of leadership has created tensions within, and with mob politics brewing and egos burgeoning, many believe it could create an opportunity for the Ghuangzou's downfall.

---

Footnote: Whilst I would like most characters to be mobsters in the Five Families, these other avenues can provide interesting role play opportunities as well, so I decided to include them as playable factions within the game.



Like any other precinct, the Atlantic City Police department has it's fair share of both bad cops and good cops. From your regular beat patrolman all the way up to the Chief's office, corruption runs rampant, but that's not to say Atlantic City has no good cops and detectives. Some, just want to see their home rinsed clean of the muck and filth that the mobsters have tracked in; others still claim this, but bend over when they're presented with obscene amounts of cash used to buy them off. Interestingly enough, rumors claim that some in the police force are fantastical creatures themselves, trying to use their powers for the way of good and to right the ship rather than path of destruction and greed that the rest have chosen. Whether these rumors hold any water remains to be seen, but rest assured that these fantastical mobsters have tightened their step in the face of the law for fear of retribution at the hands of the scales of justice.



The Atlantic City's local politics play a much bigger role in the city than in most. Due to the city's unique situation in regards to the exorbitant number of casinos and night clubs, things like building contracts and liquor licenses have become embroiled in bureaucracy and power politics. As a result, many of the Five Families have vied ardently to get their man onto the city council to secure their fair share of building contracts to build their own casinos and clubs to launder their money through. This has led to the majority of the town's city council being completely owned by syndicates, save a select few holdouts. On the flip side, the current Mayor of Atlantic City, Mayor Ray Egerton, runs his own dirty racket, with payoffs running his policy agenda. However, the city elections are coming up, and there is much talk amongst the people of an up and coming young buck candidate who hopes to upheave this culture of corruption. Whether he will succeed, only time will tell.



And finally, the people of Atlantic City; the city's very lifeblood, those whose sin and vice and naivety oil the wheels of this horrible machine, the ones whose honest toil is perverted to fuel it's criminal furnace. From the honest banker turned corrupt by mob affiliates to the man who owns the corner shop that always gets shook down for protection money to the father who adopts vigilante justice to avenge his fallen daughter——Atlantic City houses all manner of folk; some good, some bad, but most of them bad. The people of Atlantic City are under crime's boot, subject to the city's unending torrid churn. But on some level they are drawn to it, mesmerized, unable to look away from the city's burning bright neon signs and its lascivious display of sin——as many warn, Atlantic City leaves no empty glass unfilled, and no clean soul unsullied. What ultimately will become of the folk of Atlantic City——both those with clean heart and good intent and those who revel in vice——is a secret that the tides of the future have yet to bequeath.

---

Footnote; any necessary roleplaying with these characters can be done through a collab with me, and I will happily oblige to roleplay them for your needs.






i.pinimg.com/564x/b6/a7/1f/b6a71f2947…

For centuries, the Legionaires of Karth have controlled the known world, and all that lies in the cradle of the Aegean Sea. The Aegean Throne in Ad Antium, a great seat made of dazzling, sea-green jade, has long stood as the symbol of ruling power in the realm; he who sits on the Aegean Throne commands all that man has ever known. Emperor Lanius Tiber, the Great Conquerer, united the realm under the banner of the Legionnare, in the Great Aegean War of Conquest, and he would create an Empire that would last some 500 years. Before Lanius, the Legions of Karth, the Stonebloods of the Reach, and the Island-kin of Illyria fought a perpetual war, with many great commanders and many great armies fallen on the battlefield, carrion for the crows, ground to nothing by the passing of time. But the Great Lanius Tiber would unite the realm under his fist, and create the greatest lasting dynasty the Aegean had ever seen.

Lanius Tiber snuck his armies through the Azure Mountains that had protected the Stonebloods for years by way of the Azure Pass, and his armies poured into the Reach, levelling an ill-prepared Stoneblood defensive. Spies of the Empire snuck into the docks of Wavemarch at night and burned the Island-kin fleet to the ground; Emperor Lanius' great armada sailed into the defenseless Illyrian Isles unopposed, and his men plundered the countryside and burned Wavemarch to the ground. When the smoke cleared, the Aegean knew it had met it's conqueror, and it had fought itself tired. There would be no counter-offensive, there would be no retribution, as had happened so many times before. There would be peace, something the Aegean had never known. Be it as it may, five hundred years have past, but the Island-kin have not forgotten the way Wavemarch burned, the way their woman were raped, the way their temples were ransacked; the men of the Reach and the Stonebloods have not forgotten the way their ancestors were slaughtered on the pike, their sons and daughters conscripted into the Legions.

The Great Aegean Conquest was 500 years ago, and still, the memory of what happened does not fade. Ever since, there has been peace between the three Kingdoms, but of course, at a cost. The Empire of Karth have levied excessive taxation upon the subjugated kingdoms, and as one might expect, five hundred years of taxation have stretched patience thin. Upon the ending of the Great War, the Islands north of the Sea of the Lost Souls were taken from the Island-kin, renamed the Emperors of the Islands Peace, and consolidated into the Empire of Karth. Likewise, the western most lands of the Reach, up to Chokecherry Hill, were stripped from the Stonebloods, and have become homogenized into the Empire. Both have become contentious sore points for the two Kingdoms, rallying cries to fuel the coming war effort, to reclaim their ancestral lands that were taken from them, to restore the nations to the order that once was.

War has begun again between the Three Kingdoms, and the men of Illyria and the Reach want their lands back; but they also want more. The last Great War was decided by shrewd tactical domination, but now, many believe, even know, that this next one will be decided by Champions. These great warriors have answered the call of their nations, and are ready to serve their sigil to their last dying breath; it is these men who will decide the fate of the Aegean. All eyes turn to the Aegean Throne, as they once had some 500 years ago; these eyes hunger for the power it holds, for the right to create their own dynasty, their own mark on history—and they will not rest easy until the dust has settled, the bannermen lay face-down in the grave, and the Aegean Throne is theirs. The Aegean Throne awaits.

---

---

---