New Ancora: District 17.
.
.He couldn’t move his eyes from the raindrops on the window.
“Detective Barker.”Falling in endless streams.
“BARKER!”
Full wake. “Yes sir.”
“Barker, you gettin' sleep?”
“Enough.”
He was nearly cut off by a full-bellied laugh that dominated every inch of his pathetic office. “You just zoned out for a full minute there, son.” The Chief said, calling him out quite clearly. He looked like he wanted an answer.
“Uhh, new place," he rubbed his eyes and shook his head awake, "it’s a little noisy. Though it’s better than living on North Way, I’m glad I got out. Everyone there's too young.”
“Naw.” Chief said with a snort. Barker tensed in his chair, he could tell he was on the verge of being laid into. “You’re just old kid. You gotta face it head on like everyone else and start gettin’ your fuckin’ sleep, grandpa.” He paused briefly, “I’m serious guy, we need you if we plan to catch that psychopath.”
“You’re assuming it’s been one person doing the murders.” Barker said, folding his arms and leaning back comfortably.
“You little bastard! Got the sleeping pattern of’a fuckin insomniac and you’re throwing shit like this at me. Was I not just saying how much we need your ass?”
“Chief… I get it, you like my ass.”
“Ay! It ain’t just me ask anyone hea.”
Barker smirked and lit himself a cigarette. He bid the Chief a good (late) afternoon, assuring him he’d get "back to work" on the district’s newest serial-killer. Instead he browsed the internet.
cheap noise canceling studio monit-
Close tabs.Chief poked his head back through to see Barker scramble with a bunch of manilla folders, "Detective, don't forget we got BoD coming at the end of the week. You need to get your shit together, gonna be checking every square inch of this dump. Keep the intel we have on our newest
friend outta their sight." He hung on the doorframe as if he were about to make a quick exit, "…and get back to fucking work…” he trailed slowly down the hall, "…no more orderin’ gals off LoveLuck."
Barker looked up at the paneled drop ceiling and wondered how much asbestos he was exposed to on a daily basis.
"Fuck."
…New Ancora. Ha, new. Our city is collapsing around us, the bread-makers have realized their efforts aren't worth the means and they cook only for their own now. We’re living the transition period, between the era of shit and the era of rebuilding. From the rubble they will build over our broken skeletons. They want us to believe they can revitalize the city, bring it days of the past, but they don’t recognize that we know the damage has long been done.
Though for all the shit that spews in this city it’s where I’m from and all I know, we have to hope for a better day but not expect one and realize that’s OK. There is a lot I love, and there's a lot I'm used to that I should not be. I believe our district deserves justice and protection, but it is too stunned to move. This is a shithole, but it's OUR shithole, and I’m sure as damn hell not waiting to go outside.
How about you D17?~~~~
Ugh, slacktivists.It had stopped raining. A thumping bass line filled the air just as she closed the screen to her laptop. The screams and cheers of a very entertained crowd echoed up through the vertical tunnel of high-rises. Even from her spot in the corner on the balcony, lying on layers of pillow, Elle could feel the music vibrating from the floor level of their building. She also could hear someone over the music, talking through the same speakers (“Now we’re gonna bring it back to the beginning of last century for a bit...”).
As the voice abruptly dropped, the sound system sung.
“Oh, oh, luxury…”"Trina!" She called to her roommate on the other side of the balcony. "Pass that.
"You're funny, YOU can come sit with me." Trina moved a thick bundle of hair from her eyes, pushed it back across her head and it fell to the left; she didn’t look up from her laptop.
Elle laughed and collapsed on the pillows next to her, grabbing the joint with two precise fingers. She inhaled, laid back, and exhaled into the sky’s smeared yellow haze. “What’re you studying?”
“Chaucer. Book of the Duchess.”
“Mmm.” Her eyebrows pointed, “I’ve only read Canterbury. I liked it enough.”
“Well,” Trina trailed, “YOU can borrow my textbook,” she raised the gargantuan text above Elle’s resting head, “when I finish.”
Elle coughed smoke, looked upside down to Trina and started to laugh. She passed the joint. “I’m all set for the weekend, I kind of want to go to a show tonight.”
Trina groaned. “No. Not at Avalon again… it’s enough that we have to hear them all the time.”
“No! Not Avalon.” She said quickly, almost disappointed in her friend’s assumption. “I was
going to say The Spit but whatever.”
She slammed her laptop shut. “
You’re talking about going to District 10… to see
his band.”
“Oh shut up, it has nothing to do with that, they’re actually really good.”
“Let’s do it, I’m done with this.” Trina tossed her laptop where she had been sitting and walked into the apartment. “I’ll make some breakfast.”
Elle rolled her eyes, “Girl, relax, I still have to work today. I’ll eat though.”
“Where you working, the bookstore or the pole?”
“Fuck off… I’m working the club so I’m gonna have to meet you somewhere in D10.”
“Simmer-now, I’m just messing with you.” She cracked a few eggs into a bowl and reached back to the fridge for a carton of milk. “We can meet at Flannery’s for some drinks and then we’ll go to your boyfriend’s show.”
“Bitch.” She mouthed, skimming along the verse of Chaucer’s that Trina had been reading. Elle spoke louder, “Flannery’s sounds cool. I haven’t been there in forever.”
“You want onion on your omelet?” Trina said from the kitchen.
It took her puzzlingly long to find the answer.
…
"WEL-COME CITIZEN."New Ancora, a metropolis that's gutsy, grungy, and beautiful if you wish for it to be, if you can stop to appreciate your time and place in the universe, if you can still love to be alive. If you don’t, why aren’t you fighting for something? You must want something, we all want something. More credits? More dope? Less violence? More blood?
Whatever it is New Ancora welcomes you, your dreams, your perversions, and your murderous tendencies… so long as you're acting off the law’s grid and stay in your Zone.
Districts
0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20New Ancora is broken up into twenty-one districts; we consider your individual wealth, familial history, crime records, and profession when providing you with the right fit!Districts 1-9 are referred to as Zone Alpha. Residents of Zone Alpha can live anywhere they want, but most prefer to take residency somewhere in 1-9. Residents of Zone Beta are not allowed in Alpha, that is without Alpha clearance (Mercenaries who are seeking employment by the Bureau of Defense there’s no need to fret, we’ve got you covered. Read more on attaining your
Alpha clearance in your
BoD: MERC Handbook).
District Zero (or just Zero) is only accessible by members of the Ancoran Government - politicians, renowned professors, military officials, scientists, their affiliates - and their kin. Zero is a utopia shrouded in secrecy, seen by only the most elite players in Ancora. It has become somewhat of an urban myth and is a punch line just about anywhere in B.
REMEMBER: Sour run-ins with our police or military forces can result in a restriction to a series of districts or in more severe cases a single district, with no legal travel between districts. Violation of a restriction is a federal offense.Of the twenty-one districts there are only sixteen left, the fallen five went under for two reasons: District 2 and 3 were merged & District 10 and 11 were merged (because why not?), and Districts 18 - 20 succumbed to neglect and descended into anarchy over 50 years ago (survivors fled to District 17 and 16, moving families and bloodlines across flaming war zone). No one’s forgotten the fallen districts, though your government would like you to believe otherwise.
Ganglands
If you were thinking there was no possible way this city could be further compartmentalized you couldn't be more wrong. Gangs are nothing new, it's impossible to sustain a population - as big as Ancora's once was - without expecting localized control of territories and illegal trade of goods or narcotics.
Gangs are deeply rooted in the culture of Beta, having been established very quickly in the early days of Ancora's genesis; early incarnations of these
gangs were really just neighborhoods that kept an extra eye open for their blocks, they protected their own. The Fall of D18-20 was the turning point for the legitimacy of these gangs. After the war the remaining resistance groups spread out within the neighborhoods of D16 & D17 and stuck close, over time these communes of refugees became restless, underpaid, and in search of something beyond their means. These groups turned from harmless sub-communities and morphed into street smart traders specializing in the circulation of sensitive materials. The Ancoran Dream, attained.
Gang wars aren't very frequent... well, that's not entirely true. There's two types of gangs in New Ancora, the mafioso types and the nihilist anarcho-punk types.
Most of the wars between the established
business types are going on eternally, happening quietly in the thick dark of District 17's backstreets or in a subway restroom in District 13, but a war resembling something out of a history book? A rarity. It's very uncommon to see gangs fight in the middle of a street with guns a'blaze, they've found in years of existence that their type of business works more effective with executions or murder-raids on enemy territory that are played out cleanly and with professionalism, moves that are planned and considered.
Even the anarcho-punks sometimes adhere to a twisted sense of decency, which is not to say you should be flying like a bat out of hell
into J-Town. They won't be afraid to leave you laid face pressed in the gutter, bent at the limbs by the sweet kiss of a crowbar. You go about your business, pay them no attention, and hope they don't pass you by on the street when they're pissed off, which is decidedly a lot.
Law Enforcement
Every district in New Ancora has its own fully staffed police department, complete with officers and hardened detectives handling the cases local to their territories. Overseeing these departments, albeit loosely, is the Bureau of Defense, the oppressive forces common to higher level districts like Zero. One BoD agent is assigned to each police department, though he or she is not required to be or stay there, or to enjoy the mandatory visitation hours.
You can sometimes find BoD agents at the gates working with or in place of that district's officers. They are not confined to Alpha yet still don't spend enough time patrolling in Beta, which is one of the two actions they are (technically) required to fulfill each day. BoD agents are equipped with clean white armor.
Ask the local cops and they’ll tell you BoD is a bunch of fancy kids with glitzy tech and daddy issues that don’t give a shit about the city they were sworn to protect, but instead are more interested in the happenings of “that fucking Zone, even though they come down here to get wet.”
For the most part the police departments alone deal with all of the crime that happens in the lower districts. BoD agents will sometimes work alongside local cops in big cases like gang raids or drug busts, but those occurrences can be rare. The police, at this point, prefer it that way; their time to be angry about BoD's general negligence has been exhausted for a long while, and the current social climate between the two forces is the less they have to see of each other the better.
Police armor is a black variant of BoD armor, though produced at a slightly reduced level of quality. The suits in circulation are a tad bit on the used side but the AH-114 name is known specifically for its longevity and solid build. Detectives and officers typically wear some kind of jacket over their armor.
Nightlife
When the sun falls the districts become awash in a neon haze of night culture. From beautiful clubs featuring the best sound systems and soaring sky-bars to rougher dive-bars with seedy back rooms and seedier patrons (the kind to find whatever drug it is you’re craving), there’s something for everyone to enjoy on a weekend.
Places of Interest in Zone Alpha-
TBDPlaces of Interest in Zone Beta-
Flannery's:
Your classic Irish bar, chock-full of: regulars, alcoholics, and rowdy drunks looking to have a fun night. Lot's of sports, lot's of fights. D10.-
The Spit:
Looking for loud guitar music or girls and guys with neck tats? Here's your place. The Spit is one of the oldest rock clubs in New Ancora, originally establishing itself strictly as a venue for hardcore punk bands they've expanded their resume to include most rock music with an edge. Countless local punk bands - playing stuff from 1980s style hardcore, to the catchy vibes of late 70s punk - have walked through the back door and have delivered head-splitting riffs and quick bass lines. D10.-
Eclipse:
probably THE cleanest club in Zone Beta and the closest to anything like the clubs in Alpha, a favorite of university students and young professionals. There’s a VIP floor at the club’s very top that is rented out practically every night. D10-
Avalon:
ground level club that hosts live MC's and plays a lot of hip-hop, trap, and golden oldies. Avalon can be described as: unpretentious, easy-going, and “one love”. Come here if you’ve been hitting the herb and want unwind with a few drinks and talk to the local dudes or ladies. It can get wild on the dance floor, so be sure you make friends or you might feel a little lonely when everyone’s getting close. D17-
Bennie’s:
-
WEREHOUSE:
scuzzy rock bar featuring live music every night. Cool but rowdy music venue that can hold 2,500 occupants, don't plant yourself in the front of the stage if you're not comfortable with being apart of the mosh or potentially kicked by stage divers.Though Zone Alpha’s nightlife appears more refined, they indulge in the same vices as Zone Beta (sometimes even in B), they’re just quieter about their sins.
Transportation
Getting around New Ancora is made simple, fast, and stress-free by a myriad of intricate highway systems and roads. Citizens can choose from a series of hover-cars and bikes ranging drastically from your expensive, top-of-the-line piece of machines - the kind that don't just get you from A to B, but exude a certain lifestyle over anything - to your piece o' shitboxes that squeak and squeal their way down the 105.
Personal vehicles aside, New Ancora also offers much by way of public transportation.
Social Climate
[there should be text here eventually]
Science & Tech
[there should be text here eventually]
The World Beyond
[there should be text here eventually]
Citizens
Name: Colin Barker
Age: 36
Appearance: ]
Personal Details:
Colin’s not too sure anymore, about a lot of things; there's a lot that doesn't feel like it used to.
It all started in the golden years - the years when he was still a punk-youth with the jock body, toting a pure mind and a huge
heart - with the girl he fell in love with. He DJ'd at a club she frequented and one night, for whatever reason, she decided to B-line it for the booth and chat him up between sets. The rest is rom-com history... though one addled with drugs.
Ana was in a gang, some real scuzzy shit. He lived in a slightly better (but arguably similar) neighborhood next to hers; he hung around some sketchy places, saw some unlawful shit, but never himself dabbled much in that life. Meeting Ana changed all of that; she opened his eyes to a world of quick profit, fast living, and false company.
She screwed him. Completely. Every. Which. Way. A job went wrong and she fucking left him there, she was told to and she did it. He almost stayed there forever, clutching his shoulder on the dirtied mosaic of black and white tiles. Colin placed everything he was into Ana; she became the reason, he no longer had to search for what his life could be or what it could mean. When she left he reverted to days of the past.
His adult life in New Ancora is not too different from how it was before he met Ana. When he's not buried under a case Colin is usually: drinking, grabbing a bite, catching a show, looking for drugs, looking for someone to spend the night with, looking for where exactly down the line he lost himself, or if he had ever found himself at all.
Occupation: Detective
District: 17
Additional: mebbe later
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
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.
Agent Edwin ThreadBureau Of Defense Agent; District 16
Age:29
Personal Details:Born in District 0, Edwin was geared towards a life of politics for the entirety of his youth, with his parents being two prominent politicians. He excelled in his academic pursuits, and was well respected amongst many social cliques. Yet instead of continuing down the path expected, he chose to enroll with the BoD and being somewhat over-qualified for the job, he was fast-tracked through the Bureau .
Edwin was fascinated by the way of life beyond Districts 1-9, constantly hearing of the rival gangs and lawless streets, though at the same time he thoroughly enjoyed his life of luxury within District 1, which me moved to upon his joining of the BoD. The Bureau Of Defense provided a means to enjoy both lives, and he has adopted a 'pick and choose' attitude towards his work. Whilst he is the official BoD Officer for District 16, he is rarely seen there and often only visits when he gets bored of the current happenings in District 1.
He carries an air of superiority with him when visiting District 16, and speaks down to those around him. It's obvious he cares little for the people living within the District and generally only visits in order to 'show off' and boss the local police around. Yet he is by no means poor at his job, he can simply rarely be bothered to do it. He has come to realize that it's an impossible task to lower the crime rates in District 16, and as such he has a lackluster approach to his duties, instead choosing to simply assert himself as top dog amongst the local police, enjoying the 'superiority' he has amongst the local authorities. It is of course the case that he is less than popular amongst both the local police, and citizens of District 16.
Recently, however, Edwin has been searching for a means to glorify himself. He is well aware that eradicating the crime in his district is impossible, though the idea of becoming a 'legend' within the bureau is something that appeals greatly to his ever-growing ego. Much to the annoyance of the local authorities, he has been gradually spending more time at District 16 upon his visits, eager to learn what he can of the major gangs in the area, in the hopes that he may bring a major organized crime syndicate to it's heels. Taking down a major crime syndicate would ensure his glorification in history and would more than likely get him a promotion within the Bureau, and he is determined to feed his ever-growing ego by doing so.
Name: Asper Hansen
Age: Unknown, reportedly between the ages of 22 and 33.
Appearance: While glimpses of Asper Hansen are fleeting, it is apparent that he has every intention of rubbing the system the wrong way. Eye witness accounts of his appearance seem to indicate a tall, lanky man with shoulder length hair and a penchant for facial jewelry. With the Mors usually sticking to the lower levels of the sixteenth District, it is widely assumed that Aspen is of a naturally pale countenance. His fingers are adorned with eight stylized metallic rings and his clothing seems partial to some theme of maroon, the official color of the Mors.
Personal Details: Asper Hansen was not born to wealth nor to poverty, but rather to the mischance of poor fortune. When his parents were suddenly (and perhaps rather suspiciously, in some circles of discussion), killed on their way home, Asper was sent from District 2 to live with his aunt in the lower edges of District 16. His aunt, while not apathetic to young Asper, was certainly not appreciative of his rather immediate intrusion into her life and pharmaceutical drug habits. When she failed to pay up on a loan edged against a rather disciplined group of gangsters that called themselves the Greasers, nine year old Asper came home to a disembodied aunt and a ransacked housing unit.
In and out of the local Ancoran adoption homes until his late teenage years saw Asper continually picked on and bullied. He did not learn to wistfully escape or defy his attackers with an immense cerebral intellect, but instead sought revenge in the most devious methods possible. His last charade saw him expunged to the streets for allegedly forcing one of the more provocative bullies to gargle down motor oil. The details, even for the remarkable computing systems of District Zero become hazy here, as Asper moved to and fro the societal hierarchy of Ancora, eventually sinking deep enough to become less a person and more a fragment. He has supposedly returned to his roots in District 16, where he is inching his own influence onto the seedier dissidents of the anarchy that is District 16.
District: District Sixteen.
Additional: Asper is the leader of a gang called the Mors. They are numerous and well known, but considered a relative non-threat to the people of District 16. They are no friends to law enforcement and the more wily of members have been known to jump isolated law enforcement officers. There is more glory than guts here, as most of these incidents end in arrests for the Mors members, but rumor has it that it's some obscure right of passage. They deal primarily in high grade pharmaceutical drugs and small time prostitution within District 16. Most of the members of this outfit are drop outs, teenagers are prevalent and women can often be seen wearing the maroon imbued handprint of the Mors.
The Mors are the primary handlers and dealers of a well known deliriant called Fuzz, which is an active psychopharmacological drug that inhibits the production of glutamate, which carries neurons to the hippocampus and stores information, such as memories. While a bottle of whiskey might wash away your problems for a night, the residual and euphoric (often referred to as a fuzzy feeling) feeling is replicated on a much more immediate level without the post bottle hangover or the debilitating physical effects of natural intoxication. The drug must be administrated via neural injection and common signs of use are needle marks at the base of the neck. Long term use is errant memory loss and possible damage to the central nervous system. Short time use includes forgetting targeted and commonly induced memories and thoughts and a slight feeling of euphoria across the temporal lobes and across the epidermis.
Law enforcement often identifies citizens on the drug by asking them easily identified but rather obscure questions like what they ate for lunch, or who the last person they talked to on the phone was -- while not a surefire way, minor events are often not recorded at all by the brain under the effects of Fuzz and missing one or two key questions can lead to incarceration. Current charges brought for use, possession or intent to sell are unknown.
Name: Unit 0.18462958 - Designation: SEKTOR
Gender: n/a - Male programming
Age: Activated 48 hours ago
Appearance: (http://videogame-art.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/VideoGameArt_MassEffect3_GethRKT02_RodriguePralier.jpg) - Sektor's model is tall and imposing, standing at about 6'8". The arms, legs, and portions of the torso and spine are made up of artificial synthetic tissue, allowing malleability and flexibility not dissimilar to organic muscle movement. The rest of Sektor's frame is covered in lightweight, yet sturdy white plate metal. Sektor's 'head' is equipped with a communication module, allowing communication between multiple signals, targeting system, and night vision/thermal vision/x-ray vision overlay. Sektor's frame is also capable of an active camouflage, becoming effectively invisible.
Personal Details: Personality: Sektor does not express individual personality, instead viewing itself as a AI Guardian unit. However, it will show loyalty to any organics it has deemed worthy and will sacrifice itself for them if need be. Sektor focuses on logic and calculations above compassion or empathy and will calculate situation choices based on probability and statistics before making a decision. Sektor's most interesting feature is its emulation feature, a residual program that studies and copies the behaviors of organics around it. Allowing it to eventually 'grow' a personality, however the 'type' or 'strength' of the individual personality has not been observed.
--
History: Little is known of Sektor's existence. Rumor of development of an advanced AI beyond the normal realm has been around for quite some time, but only a select few from Districts 0-3 were given any information on the subject. Sektor's construction went well and there were no faults, except for a self-preservation program. Upon 'hearing' two of the head scientists discussing possible deactivation, Sektor activated the self preservation program, and killed 67% of the science team in the facility before escaping...
Occupation: Guardian Unit AI
District: 0 currently
Additional: Sektor will most likely be leaving the district as soon as possible, seeking a safer haven.
Names: James and Mason Jamison
Age: James and Mason are both 21, although James is older by a few minutes
Appearance:
James [Hider2=James](http://www.creationwarrior.net/gallery/635829#2) (couldn’t find just the picture on the internet for whatever reason, so I put the link of where I saw the picture.)[/2hider]
Mason 
James is 6’1”, Mason is 6’0”
Personal Details:
James and Mason have lived what many would call a very privileged life. They are the sons of a prominent Politian in Ancora, and have lived in District Zero all their life. They were waited on hand and foot by servants, and got the best education possible in Ancorda. They attended the best parties, and were dressed in the best clothes. Everywhere they went, the two boys never separated.
As both of them grew older and moved into high school, they still stayed together, but not as much. James continued to hang with the upscale crowd, whereas Mason started to hang with the “bad” crowd (the drinkers, smokers, etc.). They easily became the popular ones in both their small groups, mostly because they both threw the best parties, and had the best alcohols and drugs available.
When they graduated high school, both of them had grown tired of living in the same, sheltered environment of the Zero District, and wanted to move out. After talking it over with their parents, who were very reluctant to let them go, the boys were able to move to District One, the safest district, aside from District Zero
James tends to be the more responsible one of the two brothers. He is studious, hard-working, polite, respectful, a bit of a neat freak; all the “good kid” personality traits, really. Mason is more of the “bad boy.” He stays out later than James, drinks more than James; he smokes, and does drugs. Both are party people, although Mason likes to party more. They both share a pretty large flat, and there is a clear distinction on where each of them spends most of their time.
Occupation: Both of them are college students.
District: 1
Additional:
NOTE: This is the edited version. I've only changed the history a bit.
Name: Den
Age: (Approximately) 25
Appearance: A young adult male, appears to be in his mid-twenties. His long brown hair almost completely covers his whole forehead. Blue eyes, and a semi-muscular body type.
Personal Details:
Personality
The silent type. He doesn't usually say much.
History
Waking up, naked, bloodied and bruised, he tried to recalled what had happened. He couldn't, since he lost all memories of who he is. He came up with a new identity, Den. An idea that came from a nearby license plate. He hid nearby, when he heard a small group of people. It was one of those mafioso gang, dumping a body that belonged to another gang. A soon as they were gone, Den to check on the body. Raiding anything he thought could be useful, and the dead anarcho-punk's clothing.
Although he's capable at close-quarter combat, he usually refrain himself from killing (this is by instinct, so even he's not sure why he does it sometimes). Whenever he could, he tries to avoid combat overall, preferring stealth to get what he wants.
Occupation: Local Thief
District: 17
Additional: Not a lot of people know that he's a thief, since he steal from behind. He does so, mostly because he doesn't carry a weapon with him (though he's always ready to punch the victim's lights out, in case they noticed and turn).
Name: Jack Roman
Age: 34
Height: 5' 11"
Weight: 201
Appearance:
]
Newest model prosthetic arms created specifically for Jack by a district zero scientist Dr. Rin Emris as a huge thank you for saving her life.
Occupation: Detective for the New Ancora Police department
District: 17
Gear:
Neutech XP-9 pistol. Standard issue for all law enforcement in District 17. 15 round magazines and an optional "non-lethal" integrated tazer if you may so choose.
Background: Jack is not your average detective. He's not a dirty cop but his nose ain't clean either. Spending most of his life dealing with gang murders and drug trafficking, even human trafficking at times. He used to be a "By-the-book" type officer... but then he got older and wisened up. You can't defeat evil, only suppress it. There's only two ways to do that in Jacks eyes, either kill every evil scumbag that does wrong and let god sort them out, or start to assimilate and find the weak points. Destroy the foundation and the rest of the structure will weaken.
When Jack was younger, he was a simple beat cop walking the crowded streets of district 17, watching as the homeless got forced into prostitution by the gangs, dealing drugs and ransacking small business's. Everywhere he looked something fucked up was going on and every single time he tried his best to help. It wasn't easy whatsoever. He got noticed and promoted, but in a way it didn't help. Sure he could wear plain clothes now and work without an ominious eye on him always, but it only upset him more the deeper he could get in the shit and witness how ones internal demons could persuade one to cause harm.
Jack wisened up. He started walking the old beat and made friends with the local gangs. Look the other way during gang wars and local stores would get protected. Allow prostitution in certain areas and keep Fuzz off the corners of schools and residental areas. It wasn't perfect but it helped in some tiny way. He kept eyes on the streets everywhere, a "homeless social grid" he called it. Anyone that didn't listen got a .45 caliber between the eyes. It kept him alive this long but luck wasn't on his side anymore.
Five years ago, Jack walked through the districts school zone and watched as some asshole attempted to sell fuzz to a handfull of high schoolers. Naturally this was breaking his "rules" and Jack took the man by the neck and dragged him to the ground. All the guy did was laugh manicly and pull out and old looking grenade and pulled the pin. "Fetch fucker!" The dealer screamed as he lobbed it straight at the school entrance. Jacks eyes widened as he let the guy go and ran for the grenade. It settled down next to an industrial dumpster and Jack instinctively picked it up and threw it into the dumpster. When he tried to close the hatch the grenade went off and threw Jack clear across the concrete sidewalk.
Jack woke up in a medical room in district zero. Strapped to a medical slab with mechanical probes and tools hovering above him. A sweet voice whispered in his ear. "Don't worry, everythings going to be okay Detective." A cool hand brushed his forehead and fixed his hair and an angelic face appeared in front of him. "My name is Dr. Rin Emris... and you saved my Daughter two weeks ago from some phsycopath. This is the least I can do to repay you." The woman said with a soft voice before he blacked out again.
After months of rehabilitation, he was outfitted with a brand new set of prosthetic arms and the neural implants to control them. They were strong and durable, much better than his "old" ones. The neural implants around his face hurt and itch sometimes, but its worth it if he's able to punch through a brick wall or bend a stop sign. He got a medal from his superior and a pay raise but he never managed to find the phsycopath. He spends his days now hunting that man down. Ignoring his old ways of justice and made a trail of beaten bodies for information on the phsyco. He earned a nickname from the gangs... "The Demon of D17" nobody was safe anymore. He no longer took prisoners and even the lowest gang member got a lead sandwich.
Name: Vander Pzypialkowski
Age: 19
District: 16
Occupation: Ex-Student. Part-time dealer, full-time addict.
Appearance:
Picture
Physical Description:Vander is a walking skeleton. She stands at 5’11”, but weighs in at a meagre 126bs. What little body mass she has left is comprised of quickly-decaying muscle. Her body, or rather the drug she continuously puts inside it, has long since burned away any and all of the extra fat she used to have. The bones of her ribs, hips, spine, and knees are all prominent below her skin.
Her face, though still youthful, bears the weight of years she has not yet seen. Her eyes are tired, her cheeks hollow. Nevertheless, there still remains a hint of what could have been beauty. She has a slim jaw, and a small and slender nose. Her eyes are a dark shade of brown, almost black. Her pupils are often dilated, and her eyes are always lined with a thin border of black make-up.
Vander wears her hair in an edgy style, as is common amongst anarcho-punk gangsters. The left half is shaved short, the remainder hanging in wavy tendrils on her right. She has several piercings. A small black stud decorates her eyebrow, and a silver bar passes vertically through her lower lip. Each ear is gauged, and several small black hoops adorn the left one.
Clothing:Vander’s fashion sense apparently lacks any sort of colour. She dresses typically in shades of black and white. Black jeans, a few sizes too large, often held up with a spiked belt.
She has a fondness for raglan tees, and owns several. All white or red in the body, and black in the sleeves. The only noteworthy difference between them is the changing designs on the front. Most display logos of bands that she grew up listening to.
Vander is rarely seen going out without her black leather jacket. It is old and worn, but special. The jacket serves the dual purpose of sentimentality and functionality. It was always a size or two too large, having belonged to her father. It now manages to hide her severely malnourished figure, at least to some degree.
Personal Details: Vander was born in the slums, District 16, and has lived there all her life. She was the only daughter of Dominic Pzypialkowski, a small-time drug dealer and occasional hit man. For the past decade, Dom had been supplying the streets with daily doses of all manner of narcotics. Fatherhood changed him. The day Vander was born was the day that he found a proper job – a mail courier in District 9. He cut as many connections as he could with his old friends. For his clients, he found new dealers, doing everything possible to ensure the future safety of himself and his newborn daughter.
She was raised by her father only, her mother leaving him only days after her birth. The relationship had turned sour while Vander was still in the womb. The two had only been waiting for her to arrive to officially end it. Nevertheless, Dom was a competent man, and gave her everything he could.
The girl was homeschooled, her father taking charge of as much of her education as he could. With his new connections in Zone A, he also found her tutors on occasion. She excelled at the sciences. Biology and chemistry in particular. She was brilliant at math, and consumed knowledge ravenously. Vander Pzypialkowski was a graduate student, or the equivalent of, by age sixteen. But living in the slums took its toll on her. Even a girl as brilliant as Vander couldn’t ignore the shadiness around her. Drug deals. Murders. Subtle and silent blackmail going down on street corners. It was a world she lived in, yet was separate from. And over time, the desire to become a part of this world grew more and more overpowering.
She began synthesizing drugs when she was seventeen.
Vander started simple. Well-known street drugs, the type a teenager could easily cook from their kitchen. She kept it a secret from her father, passing her makeshift laboratory off as another chemistry project. It took only months for her to become immersed in the city’s nightlife, and only months more to lose everything she had.
She found a business partner, a young man with an already-established clientele by the name of Grey. It was Grey who introduced her to Lucid, and proceeded to leave her alone to her addiction. Her first hit, and she was hooked. Taken before bed, the drug produced vivid dreams. Sights, scents, sounds, all more vivid than even true life. Taken during waking hours, it heightened the senses, sometimes even bringing on pleasing hallucinations. She didn’t know the long term effects when she started, but learned them quickly over the next two years.
She ran away weeks before her eighteenth birthday, no longer able to keep her habit a secret from her father. She cut off all contact with him, ashamed of what she had done to herself, after all he had done to raise her right. No matter how much she loved her father, she loved Lucid more. She needed her drug.
She is now nineteen years old, and her body is wasting away. Her internal organs are slowly shutting down. Stomach cramps plague her daily. She loses sensation in her hands for hours at a time, or gets pins and needles for even longer. Her eyes are bloodshot, her head is a migraine. But even now, she still takes hits of Lucid.
Personality:
Despite her edgy appearance and drug-addict tendencies, Vander is one of the most easygoing people you will ever meet. She is polite and patient, and often used to take on the role of a conflict mediator during drug deals. She cares deeply for other people, especially those she becomes close to. Even strangers, she always sympathizes easily with. Vander is always available as an ear to talk to for drunken men at the local bars. They let the liquor talk out their sorrows, and she listens willingly.
Despite her usual behavioural tendencies, she is still a desperate addict. Desperation takes over at times, and she turns cold and hostile in an instant. During long withdrawals from Lucid, she becomes highly emotional. The smallest things can push her to hysterics, and panic attacks are often inevitable.
Name: Karis Marie Kahill
Alias: The Datacore
Age: 35
Appearance:
History: One day Karis just freaked. She couldn't take the uneducated people anymore. She just got tired of putting all the information away when it is perfectly useable; so she took all the files left on her desk and ran. She went from her archivist job in District 0, and went until she reached District 16 and settled down. From that day on, she was known as ‘The Datacore’. No one knows who she is. She’ll gather all the information she can; and then she’ll sell it to you for the right price.
Personality: When Karis isn't working (which is almost never) she’s trying to find more information. She’s always looking out for the smallest little secrets. But when she is working, she’s heartless. She'll sell anyone out for the right price. She’s not afraid to leak all your dirty little secrets.
Those who actually know Karis --not The Datacore—will say she’s intelligent. She always has the right answers and is usually open to helping someone in need.
Occupation: Information Broker
District: formally 0 now 16
Thread is very much so under construction, I'd love to hear feedback from people interested. Many of your questions may not have answers - as I'm still trying to develop the world, and would prefer to develop it with you! - but regardless, shoot them my way if you have any.
It’s early into the new century, probably somewhere around 2118. I really like the cyberpunk idea of low life/high tech, though I’m not an expert and will have to research a bit. I'm not sure if it's even possible for the citizens to thwart the government nor do I think that will be a focus of this thread, I think the idea of following characters that create their own destinies and have nights of self-discovery and catharsis within a place of hard violence, crime, and death, could be quite beautiful. A people that have been, for too long, broken and ignored by their government but are too alive to not seek love, sex, drugs, knowledge, laughs, and friends. The question is, will you give it to them?
Want to live in Zero? Go for it, I won’t be focusing much on that anyway so if you want to have a big control over these organizations that’s completely cool, just PM me so I can confer some things with you
(sidebar: both of my characters will be residents of District 17). If you want to get really philosophical and follow around a drifter character that’s trying to find identity, sounds good! Want to be a detective or officer and work on cases you invent? OK. How about a psychotic-killer, the techie in a team of bank-robbers, a drug/gang lord, a frontman/woman in a band, or maybe the bassist? Do it! I don’t care, just interact with the people around you. I want sub-plots galore!
It’s about making this city come alive and breathe by filling it with subtle nuances, scenes, and exchanges of dialogue, while getting comfortable in that world and seeing how our characters will fit. I’m hoping that this freedom will allow plots to spring up naturally and frequently, so that if you’re bored of your current situation a new one is just around the corner, waiting to be typed! I want there to be something that brings these characters together, we just have to find it together.
The Horror tag (will be explained better in the Law Enforcement section once I finish that stuff) is here because since the fall of D18-20, violence in the lower Districts has increased exponentially. Not just in frequency, but in its sheer brutality.
You will be allowed multiple characters and I don't think there'll be any reason to limit the number of players.
