You can still remember everyone's reaction when you told them you enlisted.
Dad was prouder than you'd ever seen him, talking about how honorable and glorious it would be. If you could go back, you'd punch him right in the jaw just for lying to you so blatantly.
Your little brother thought it was so cool, that you'd go and get to fight the aliens, and that maybe one day he'd be just as cool as you. You hope to whatever gods are out there that he hasn't followed you out here.
Mom was the only one who seemed to understand, who knew what would happen when you came out here. She begged and pleaded for you not to go. For you to stay home. To stay safe. You reassured her that you'd be alright.
You wish you'd listened to her.
You were identified as a Pilot candidate shortly into your training. An honor, they said. And like an idiot, you accepted. They tore you apart, cell by cell, and put you back together. Months of agony, physical therapy, and recovery, over and over again, until they finally shaped you into something... different. Not human, not Arx, not even uplift. You could only be called what you were- Pilot.
And that was just where the nightmare started.
Because now that you've gotten to the front line itself, you know the truth. There's no glory out here. No honor. No heroes.
Only monsters.
Dad was prouder than you'd ever seen him, talking about how honorable and glorious it would be. If you could go back, you'd punch him right in the jaw just for lying to you so blatantly.
Your little brother thought it was so cool, that you'd go and get to fight the aliens, and that maybe one day he'd be just as cool as you. You hope to whatever gods are out there that he hasn't followed you out here.
Mom was the only one who seemed to understand, who knew what would happen when you came out here. She begged and pleaded for you not to go. For you to stay home. To stay safe. You reassured her that you'd be alright.
You wish you'd listened to her.
You were identified as a Pilot candidate shortly into your training. An honor, they said. And like an idiot, you accepted. They tore you apart, cell by cell, and put you back together. Months of agony, physical therapy, and recovery, over and over again, until they finally shaped you into something... different. Not human, not Arx, not even uplift. You could only be called what you were- Pilot.
And that was just where the nightmare started.
Because now that you've gotten to the front line itself, you know the truth. There's no glory out here. No honor. No heroes.
Only monsters.
Welcome to Here Be Dragons, a mecha RP with horror elements (think of it as "Evangelion Lite," and you'll be in the right ballpark). You, the players, are members of the Red Line Coalition, the first line of defense in a 100-year war against an alien menace known as the Shard. Specifically, you are a Pilot- heavily modified soldiers bonded to giant bio-mechanical armors called Dragons. The story will begin with the deployment of a new, powerful prototype Dragon codenamed "Queen Unit," along with the most capable Pilots they can find as their escorts. The plot will be filled with twists, turns, and trauma from all sides, as your Pilots deal with war, death, suffering, drama, body horror, and all that other good stuff.
Does that sound fun to you? Good. Then we can begin.
Right now, I'm looking for somewhere in the vicinity of 7-8 Pilots in the central "Virtue Squadron," with some supporting characters mixed in (mechanics, control techs, a doctor or a bartender, perhaps). Two Pilots in particular will be singled out, The Veteran who leads the squadron, and The Prototype, piloting the powerful Queen Unit, with all the baggage that that implies.
Questions? Comments? Declarations of undying love? Now is the time to get it out there. Let's see what we have to work with, shall we?
