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Files.>Documents.>Introduction.docx.>

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Gray. That was the first word that came to the mind of every poor soul unfortunate enough to awaken in the city. It was gray in color, as thick panels of fog routinely suffocated the concrete world and cut it off from the blinding sun. It was gray in heart, as every building and billboard was covered in slogans and phrases that were as nonsensically generic as they were vaguely threatening. And finally, it was gray in soul. The cityscape was dotted with others, though their status as human was questionable upon second glance. A parade of dress shirts and suitcases that filed through the dreary city, scuffed leather shoes clacking on the pavement with no hope or destination. The men and women stared dead ahead with empty eyes and no emotion.

In truth, nobody knows where the city came from, or what it’s even called. People arrive in the hundreds, most of them brain dead, though there are exceptions. Like you, on this fateful day.

Your memories are hazy but intact, yet you´re not sure where you actually are. Hell? Heaven? Something else? There are others as confused and sentient as you, so you reasonably think to reach out to them. But then again... the world is strange and filled with irregularities. The calendars stretch into hundreds of months, the clocks have more arrows than necessary with numbers that aren´t supposed to exist, the advertisements are so generic that it´s almost offensive. And the food? The textures are off and blander than you ever thought possible. It´s as if the world was created halfway and abandoned for eternity.

Information is hard to find in this world, and you´ll have to risk your life for any decent answers. Between conflicts with other strays, malevolent entities, and a city that defies reason, it's not going to be easy.

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Files.>Documents.>Clarification.docx.>

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drone from the monotone is a roleplay set in a strange world vacant of life and color. You are someone who has died, and regardless of the circumstances you now find yourself inside of a bizarre urban environment where staying alive is now a key part of your schedule.

As the prologue has implied, you have left life with feelings of dissatisfaction and an unwillingness to let go from sentience, and must now come to terms with what that means for you. This will be a slice of life roleplay set in an unorthodox location, though expect action and problem solving elements as well. Dying is possible. Keep in mind your character has the ability to revive, however.

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Files.>Documents.>On.docx.>

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There are many different emotions and feelings that one can experience at waking up from a nap. This wasn´t a pleasant awakening. Cracked lips, sore throats, the looming and dominating feeling of suffocation. Their eyes were clamped shut in a thin layer of rheum and seemed to almost beg to remain closed. The clothing on their bodies consisted of what bound and trapped them in their past lives, uniforms and formal clothing in full display, topped off by a lanyard hooked to a sheet of printer paper with a target on it. The words DO NOT REMOVE were right below it, imposing and capitalized. An inspection of their surroundings would reveal no useful information, as the offices were clearly removed from any sense of reality. There were several clocks, but none of them seemed to agree on what time it was. The calendars had days that didn´t exist for months that were random strings of letters and numbers. Even the posters on the walls made no sense, as they were coated in thick layers of unnerving and strange sentences. It was hard not to feel bewilderment at the sight of a kitten poster with the words WATCH YOUR BACK displayed so boldly.

Building 1713 BB clicked to life as the last of the new strays had arrived. Harsh fluorescent lights flickered on to the sound of hundreds of outdated computers whirring their fans in a cold fury all together to the loud ding of the elevators that connected every floor. And every floor needed to be connected, as there were one-hundred and seven of them within the enormous building, all identical in structure save for the rooftop and entrance.

The many, many elevators of the building revealed their plain interiors at once with a slow and unsettling hum that almost seemed deliberate. They began to close and open, open and close, losing their shared tempo as they buckled and struggled to continuously do so. Some refused to open after several repetitions. Others, perhaps?

The floor that the inhabitants occupied seemed random, and though it was unlikely that more than one could end up sharing one, it wasn´t impossible. Entering one of the elevators had revealed yet another restriction imposed on them: from here on out, they had to go up. Only one button was functional, glowing the soft yellow of a used machine. Floor 107.

Mola

Mola´s mind is different from most people´s. Whether it´s the way she perceives magic as a rainy drippy feely sensation or her tendency to try to count the bubbles in her soda, her brain has always been wired in a way that the outside world finds incredibly bizarre. Most of her classmates have taken to either avoiding her or ignoring her entirely, as the girl´s unorthodox quips and interests are too much to handle at times.

She has a fascination with emotions, believing them to be superior over logic. No matter how sound or factual a statement or thing is, a person´s emotions can completely distort it without them even realizing it. It´s because of this that she has a bit of an obsession with cataloging and researching them, albeit through loose and artistic methods. Her favorite way of trying to pin feelings and sensations down is through intricate collages formed through a mixture of online photographs and ones she takes, scraps with no clear origins and anything else she can get her hands on. Poetry, lucid dreaming, regular dreaming, conversations with total strangers, they´re all just some of the many other ways she gets her fix.

Himari

Background:
One of the yakuza's most prominent and deadly female members of the twenty-first century was assassinated, with her corpse stored as a trophy. It has, god knows how, found its way into the hands of the idol producer and has been selected to become an up and coming idol.

There's a lot to Himari that stands out when you first meet her. I mean yeah, she's a zombie, but she also dresses cutely and formally, like some rich dude's really cute secretary. The cherry on top and the reason why she was banned from several family restaurants in her former life is her passion for guns. And explosions.

Personality : A naive airhead that tends to think outside the box, Himari is capable of simultaneously being the dumbest and brightest person in the room depending on what´s going on. Her solutions are definitely creative, at the cost of implying someone getting shot at some point. Some of her brain cells must have gotten scrambled during the revival, because she often forgets what is and isn't acceptable during the problem solving process.

As she was revived wearing the formal and luxurious suit of a typical yakuza chief, she has developed an interest in larping as a secretary out of denial. She believes that a high ranking member of the yakuza would have to be an absolutely monstrous person and therefore she wasn´t one and was definitely a secretary. As a result, Himari hoards office supplies and uses them in unconventional ways to "keep things sparkling". Don´t question it. She also considers various dangerous weapons as supplies as well. Don´t question that either.

Likes:
Teamwork
Friendship
Foods with extreme flavors
Those youtube videos with like six hours worth of ambient music that are supposed to help you be productive
Dogs

Dislikes:
Being told that bringing a sniple rifle to the inside of a Seven-Eleven is a crime
Anything too complicated or serious
Things that are unorganized

Special talent:
Himari is really good at driving, especially motorcycles. She swears that she must have been one speedy secretary and totally not a yakuza chief.

Age: 28

Sex: Male


Chester has spent the better part of his life receiving a steady stream of hand-me-downs and obligation clothing gifts from his many, many relatives and has never properly learned to dress himself. Ever since his rocky entrance into fatherhood Chester has stopped trying to figure out what being fashionable is, content with seeing himself as an older man who doesn't need to take part in those things. Anything baggy is a welcome addition to his closet as a break from the stiff and formal getup of his job as the manager of a pretentious waffle joint.


There is a sense of weight to the life of Chester. It's in the way the pale sky hangs above him every morning before work, the 3 a.m. excursions to corner stores, the silence and smoke in between the battered concrete and rows of strip malls. He´s a suburban reject with the heart of a city kid, with all the shadier parts of the city memorized better than anything high school ever threw at him. He´s no criminal, just broke.

Chester´s parents chased the american dream decades ago and got it, to an extent. Though the worn out suburban labyrinth might have been claustrophobic to most they only saw opportunities and got to work as a small chinese buffet. Of course, no one in their family had a drop of foreign blood in their vietnamese ancestry, but would anyone really give a shit?

His childhood slipped through him in a blur, consisting of being worked to the bone to keep the struggling family business going by all means necessary. It was by no means an awful way to live, although it was hard not to feel like his whole life was set up for him. Dozens of teachers came and went in his life failing to leave a lasting impression beyond being scolded for never trying too hard. Effort outside of home economics was kind of pointless when your entire life was wrapped around Little Dragon Buffet. Then came financial success.

What started off as simple renovations and finally having seats without holes in them grew to eventually setting up shop in a place that was a far cry from before. It was larger than a classroom, for one. The menu that he knew by heart doubled and then tripled and then multiplied some more and pretty soon more than half of the employees stopped having the same last name as him. His family was by no means wealthy but he was now independent. And so he ended up in yet another eatery.

The twenty-eight year old current Chester now works as a manager to an overpriced waffle joint, earning him plenty joking-but-also-not-joking scorn from relatives. He's gone through job after job, unable to escape the iron grip of the food service industry. A few relationships happened in between, starting off with arranged stints with the children of his parent´s friends and continuing on with wilder affairs before stagnating and realizing that serial monogamy was the way to go. He's gone through these strained relationships pretty roughly, earning him a daughter of his own after a particularly long and awful mess of one. He even had a thing going with another guy at one point, though that's a long story.

He continues to manage a Golden Waffle while leaving his home turf in the hands of his younger, actually ambitious brother. His daughter and him live in a fairly comfortable apartment. She has an enormous network of cousins her age and older folk with candy, so life is never boring. There is a definite sadness that she can sense from her father but she´s still too young to put it into words. It´s fine to brush things off for now.


Chester's power gives him the ability to ingest things that others aren't able to. This encompasses a wide range of things. Moldy food, raw meat, motor oil, cyanide, swamp water, snake venom, if it can shred the insides of a human chances are Chester and gulp it down with no serious side effects. This also includes solids like plastic and broken glass, as the soft tissues on the inside of his mouth are resistant to anything that gets shoved in there. There are, of course, drawbacks. Does Chester enjoy the taste of things that were never intended for human consumption? Unsurprisingly, no. Is he doubtful and hesitant of his abilities? Absolutely. The worst drawback of them all in his opinion however, is his inability to get drunk. This extends to all drugs, but he is especially angry about being eternally sober against his will.

"Stop calling me Logan!"

"Adelmo von Freudenberger, offensive spellcaster of the guild Regnum Hohenstaufen, known more for its members' extensively coordinated 'minimalist medieval' outfits and roleplaying excursions rather than leaderboard domination. Shares Alex's passion and frankness, albeit in a more bullheaded and mature direction."

Physical Description

Logan Barnett had always been on the wrong side of average, much to his dismay. He was tall, he supposed, though in the way people labeled as underfed or lanky. His features were masculine enough, though his nose stretched a tad too far for his liking and his resting face had the tendency to set off women's fight or flight responses. Life as a software developer had done the man absolutely no favors as well. It was detrimental, in fact, as years of unpaid overtime had dished out quite the beating to both his posture and eyes.

In Pariah, he can finally taste the other side of the fence. His thin and wiry features underwent a number of subtle modifications to give him the appearance of a stoic yet handsome man. He has cropped blond hair in a conservative style identical to the one in his adolescence before premature balding had reared its head, and no glasses to speak of. His body, though still thin, has risen to a weight that no longer concerns others, with the faintest definition of muscle as well. The dedicated gamer and roleplayer had initially joined to rise to the top with his friends while partaking in fantasy adventures, but he has to admit, even just taking it easy with his younger brother feels good with the level of immersion Pariah offers.

Character Conceptualization

Adelmo von Freudenberger, archmage of the secret Abenddämmerungdrache sect, esteemed confidant to the Knights of the Midnight Order, survivor and champion of the 12th Cataclysm of Sundered Wings. To the rest of Pariah's playerbase, these were nothing more than empty words pertaining to someone a step below them in their little self-imposed caste system of who was better than who. Within his tight-knit group of friends however, he was Adelmo, the powerful magician who could accompany them on one exciting adventure after another, whether in a LARP held in the beautiful canadian wilderness or something over a screen. Pariah was the next big step for them, a chance to not only expand their numbers but meet people from across the world.

In time their guild bloomed into one that could handle PvE alongside their roleplaying. They now have nearly double their original members, a mixture of Logan's real life friends and extras picked up along the way. Their trust in one another and synchronization from up to decades of friendship make them a surprisingly powerful force in raids and questing, often being able to perform complex team movements with little to no communication beforehand. They took in Logan's younger brother, Alex, to show him the ropes, but his total disinterest in the guild's day to day roleplaying has created friction between him and the rest of them. That Logan's real life friends had spent years thinking his younger brother was a girl, well, that only made things worse.

Guild name: Regnum Hohenstaufen