...It's a different world, up here...
...In the amber glow of the noon day sun...
...Cast across the snow ridden rooftops of New London...
It was once said that the British Isles were the industrial marvel of the world... fast, efficient and finely tuned...
Their factories, and workers, were the envy of the planet, and companies would come from far and wide to attempt to learn their secrets.
But none succeeded.
Yes, things were looking good for the British work force: The Anti-Thatcherism movement had revolutionised the nation, and promised it a rebirth, to be born again as the gem of the economic world.
Once, everybody had wanted a piece of their product, and once, everybody was willing to pay through the nose to get it, too...
... but that was a long time ago...
The 2050 elections had seen the rise of a new political party the likes of which the world had never seen before, nor would they again.
Built upon the foundations of a powerful work ethic, the Operari party cared not for the petty degradation of arguing politics.
They didn't seek to keep the rich wealthy, or ensure the protection of the poor.
No, their interests were focused directly on what would be best for the entire nation: They aimed to keep the British industrial machine thoroughly oiled, and the workforce well fed.
Whilst the likes of The Labour and Conservative parties tore at each other's throats, and decried the insufficiency of one another’s policies, The Operari gave the public some very simple, very logical terms:
More work, for more pay.
And in a nation fueled by the growth of its workforces, The Operari saw massive influxes of support: People forsook the likes of the old parties, and their archaic politics.
Labour claimed to represent the people, but never did anything for their benefits, and The Conservatives simply sought to plunge the newly re-forged British superpower back into the dark ages.
By the time the election came to its close in 2051, a new prime minister was running the entirety of Britain.
A new Operari prime minister, by the name of John Bannoch Gunner.
For this, the public of Britain rejoiced, feeling as though they'd made the choice that would secure their future in the world of business... and for a time, it seemed like they had.
Because everything began to get bigger.
Cities began to touch the skylines, and entire villages were converted into mass living complexes for the rapidly growing British labourforce, which was made up not only of native workers, but men and women from all around the world, looking to work in what was now considered to be the land of opportunity.
The future was radiant: The Operari, people said, would lead them to their workman’s paradise.
But this was not to last.
It was shortly after the construction of the new capital of England, “New London”, that the Operari began to show their own colours.
With their majority in British parliament, and their figurehead as its leader, that The Operari established a new law: The Unos Decius Proclamation.
A law that guaranteed that the current prime minister, John Bannoch Gunner, could never be voted out of power.
He was to be a lifelong ruler: And Britain was to become a totalitarian state.
The Operari would remain in control of the British Isles for as long as he remained alive, and when he passed, his closest kin would assume his position in office.
This caused mass concern across Europe, as countries began to grow anxious regarding Britain's
sudden jump from democracy.
Some international leaders likened it to Germany in the 1930's, others to popular Orwellian novels...
But the British public didn't do anything to stop it. There were no revolutions, no rise ups: As far as the majority were concerned, it was in their best interest to be controlled by The Operari party.
The only politicians who had- up until now- totally adhered to their promises.
And so, despite The Operari’s essential dissolution of rival political factions, the gears of the second industrial revolution kept turning.
Britain continued to grow, most notably New London.
Its lofty skyscrapers and vast steel edifices were renowned globally for their exceptional size, and the city itself grew at such a rate that it soon surpassed its boundaries, until the entire county of London had become part of the massive superstructure.
It became a labyrinth of massive factories, of office buildings, research laboratories and prolific academies.
No country on Earth could boast to be nearly as advanced as the countries united under Britain, and all of this was achieved under the watchful eyes of The Operari’s leadership.
This caused a new movement: That of international political growth.
Quickly, the Operari formed parties in America, in France, and soon, throughout most of the globe. It seemed every nation wanted a piece of what Britain had: But this was their plan all along.
When the Operari party controlled the majority of the “first world” economy- their final conquest being their establishment of power in Communist China, overthrowing the old regime in the process- their plans suddenly underwent a change.
No longer would they pay people such impressive wages for the hours they worked, and no longer would work be an optional thing, either.
Every member of the public would need to work.
Every man, woman and child would be forced into office cubicles, factory assembly lines and industrial repair units, and paid only what they needed to survive, whilst the politicians and upper classes thrived on their efforts, and profited from the sweat of the poorer man's brow.
This, understandably, caused an uproar amongst the proletariat.
Revolution was impending, and the workingman, as one massive writhing organism, screamed for the head of John Gunner upon a silver platter.
Police forces around the world struggled to hold them back, and Operari diplomats began to falter under the bombardment of the political attacks they faced, coming from the nations that had yet to fall to their regime: The few that remained, such as Switzerland and Poland.
And so, when it looked as if the balances of power were shifting again, Gunner unleashed his ultimate weapon: The Servitutem Formula.
For as long as the Operari had been in power, they'd been feeding the British industrial beast for two purposes:
[*]Publically, it was to generate more income through the production of great-quality produce.[/*]
[*]Privately, it was to fund the scientific research necessary to manufacture their own virus.[/*]
Never had The Operari truly looked for the benefit of the British people: They simply used them for their own means, and told them exactly what they wanted to hear to ensure that they got what they needed.
But one day, it was inevitable that they would revolt.
And so, Gunner and his co-conspirators put plan Servitutem into action.
They would produce a virus that would relieve their workers of their independence, and render them as simple and pliable as machines, willing to serve for whatever they earned, and totally without qualms.
They would work only for survival, and they would like it.
And so, Servitutem was produced.
First, the amount created was small: But without even realizing it, the British workforce had been made to mass-produce different parts of the formula all throughout the nation, years prior to the party’s necessity for it.
And so, in vast amounts, it was carried by loyal Operari naval ships out into the English channel, where they had patiently waited for the revolution’s beginning.
Then, when the signal came- as it inevitably would- they began pouring the formula into the ocean, and allowing it to spread to the public.
With the water tainted, millions of workers became docile, and without a solitary inhibition.
In one move, The Operari had toppled their opposition, and re-established dominance.
They repeated this around the globe, until every Operari-controlled nation on the planet had been thoroughly sedated by their Servitutem formula.
They would march to their factories, and produce their worth.
Then, they'd take just enough pay to feed themselves for the evening, and repeat the cycle the next day.
And not a single one of them knew it was happening.
They lived out their own illusions of freedom, and imagined vivid dreams in which their lives were full of colour, and of joy: Totally blind to the reality around them.
And The Operari ruled over them, enthroned upon mountains of the labourforce’s produce, quite sure that nobody would ever question them again.
They did not, however, anticipate the formation of The Runners.
In 2063, a group of what had become known as Wage Slaves- Those subjected to The Operari’s will- inherited a defective gene that, when presented with the Servitutem formula, would reject it all together- sometimes violently- and render it’s host immune to the virus’s effects.
It didn’t take them long to piece together what had happened to society: How man had been enslaved by his own need to profit, and was now powerless to resist those who’d wanted to profit more.
With their immunity yet unheard-of, they began to conspire to escape their workplaces, their prisons: To escape from the city.
As so many tall buildings had been produced, the skyline of New London- which, in some places, even pierced the clouds- was totally unoccupied, and unprotected.
After all, if everyone was a Wage Slave, why would The Operari need anyone sat in the higher offices?
They were the ones in control.
And because no Operari feared the threat of revolution- quite secure in the fact that, as far as they knew, the world was either beneath their thumb, or cowered from their shadow- they would never pursue those who escaped.
Yes, the skyline was perfect… the skyline was free.
By the year 2065, “The Runners Movement” had escaped.
Having painstakingly climbed their way (quite literally) to the roof tops, they began raiding the materials that made up abandoned and disused buildings, in order to construct their own shanty towns, and swore never to return to the land below the windows, so that the Operari may never discover them.
However, the Operari were more than aware of The Runners’ presence.
But their numbers were so few, and their insistence on remaining above was so solid, that they made no game of capturing them.
The Runners would be the exception that proved the rule: They would cower in fear, but ensured that the immunity wasn't passed further than their own little group, which meant the Wage Slaves would continue to work tirelessly.
Slowly, The Runners faded into myth, and lived by a simple code:
[*]They would never kill a Wage Slave, because they’d once been slaves themselves[/*]
[*]Stay out of sight, and out of mind, of The Operari[/*]
[*]If you are captured, sooner die than reveal our location[/*]
That was, until one renegade group dared to descend back onto ground level:
They had once, amongst their Runner compatriots, been known as “Sector O”, having occupied the eastern district of New London's roof tops.
However, one ill-conceived night in the late 60's, Sector O decided to attempt to assassinate John Gunner, and liberate Britain…
Whether the other Runners agreed, or not.
Having crept into the fortress that was now parliament, utilizing their unique, running-honed skills, Sector O had almost succeeded in taking the life of the PM: John had been distracted by the likes of his children- Churchill and Gilligan Gunner, respectively- and hadn’t seen them coming through his office window.
However, they were fought off by his private guard, and dispersed across the city.
Rapidly, they had returned to their roof top homes, but they were not warmly welcomed back.
Having defied the code, and revealed themselves to The Operari, they were forcibly cast out of The Runners' Society, and became known instead as The Omegas.
Blindfolded and escorted across the city, they would be left in a place of no significance, to thrive amongst themselves, and never again return to the Runner’s headquarters.
They'd experienced what it was to be reckless, and they'd enjoyed it.
Now, they felt no remorse: No Wage Slave had a right to life if they stood in the way of Omega business, and as far as they were concerned, the entire skyline belonged to them.
If ever they found Runners, they would take vengeance: And if the opportunity to attack John Gunner ever re-emerged, they would take it in a heartbeat.
This recklessness, when combined with John Gunner’s new fear for his life, motivated The Operari to leap into action: No longer would they simply tolerate the existence of The Runners. Instead, they would hunt them down.
They would end them, and their immunity, too.
They didn't discriminate between Omega and Runner, both were guilty in the eyes of The Operari: Both were bred from the same flock.
And so, they established a new authority, a police force that acted as Judge, Jury and Executioner: The State Spectres: parkour experts, and armed enforcers.
These officers- headed by John Gunner’s youngest son, Gilligan- would track down and kill Runners without remorse.
Sometimes, they would patrol the streets in the guise of a Wage Slave, and would give chase the moment a Runner presented himself.
Other times, they would simply take to the skyline… and hunt.
Now, The Runners were under threat.
With The Omegas on one side, and The State Spectres on the other, The Runners were being suppressed, and so, took up arms.
They had to defend themselves, their way of life, and what little freedom the British people still retained upon the rooftops.
But they knew deep down, that no matter how bad things got, they would never lose.
They were fast, they were smart, and the sky was their domain.
And if ever they were nearly done.
If ever, they found themselves on their last legs.
They needn't worry.
Because Runners have a saying, about situations like this.
“You may be down, but you’re never out... if you start running now, it's only twenty seconds to Sundown.”
Congratulations! You've survived the cruel territory of the New London skyline long enough to become a runner! You've got to admit, that's quite the feat.
But surviving a few scrimps and scrapes isn't the important thing, here: You've got to know everything, your enemy included.
So here're a few footnotes to get you going!
- Churchill Gunner
[The Operari]
The Operari were a radical new political and ideological movement founded upon the basis that the British workforce- which enveloped the majority of the population- should be put before any other interest, be it foreign policy or military.
Their main goal was to “nationalise” the economy.
Their name is derived from the Latin word for "Work", which is fitting because the political party that produced the Operari philosophy based their entire campaign upon the idea of a strong, nation-wide work ethic.
Of course, despite the popularity of this idea, when beginning their bid for power the Operari did employ certain political tricks, most notably making their spokesman and leader a charismatic and objectively handsome one: John Gunner.
And it worked swimmingly, thrusting the never-before-seen party into national acclaim, and soon, the prime-ministerial offices.
Shortly after they were voted into power, however, they removed the very electoral system that’d helped them rise to prominence, ensuring that Gunner and his kin would rule the nation until the end of their days.
This move caused much concern amongst the leaders of the European and American superpowers, but soon other countries began to follow suit, voting The Operari into power across the globe so that Gunner might control their work unions, too: After all, gross disregard for political process aside, their policies seemed to work.
Less than a year after their acceptance into the major economic powers of the globe, however, The Operari changed their policies, and degraded the rights of their workers to the most basic they could.
Their human rights were violated, their pay deducted and their living standards dropped: The Operari, now in control of the world, began to plunge it into the worker’s hell, as opposed to their paradise.
And when that caused an international uproar amongst the proletariat, they proceeded to introduce an artificially created virus into the water supplies of every nation under their jurisdiction, suppressing the public and rendering them mindless Wage Slaves.
It was this action, though, that accidentally created The Runners.
[John Gunner]
John Gunner is the current prime minister of Britain, and has been ever since he was elected in 2051.
As a representative (And the current leader) of the Operari party, he's been described as a combination of charismatic, charming and incredibly difficult to lie to.
It was with these precise qualities that he won over the British public, and eventually, the world.
It was him that issued the order to initiate Operation Servitutem: But it came at a cost.
He'd sired two sons, who had been present when Sector O had launched their attack on the PM’s private parliamentary residence.
For fear that they might attempt to join the newly established Runner threat in their teens, before they were of suitable age to succeed their father in office, the new Operari parliament demanded that they be sedated with the Servitutem formula themselves, and made- temporarily- into the likes of Wage Slaves.
This idea horrified him, however, and so instead he came up with a method of providing them a physical handicap in place of a mental one.
To eliminate the risk of them ever becoming Runners, he had both of his sons anaesthetised, and- on live television, before Operari representatives around the globe, and in full sight of the house of commons- he had their legs amputated, rendering them incapable of walking, never mind running.
Currently, he resides in parliament, which- following Sector O’s attempt on his life- has been rapidly rebuilt in the shame of a massive, walled fortress, the grounds of which are prowled by spectres.
From the comfort of his own home, he issues commands to his lower downs through the likes of telephones and cameras.
Nobody has visited him directly in five years, save for his son, Gilligan.
[The Runners]
Runners are the result of a genetic defect that created a generation of Wage Slaves immune to the Servitutem formula dropped into the water supply.
Fast and fit, they live among the roof tops of New London, in cities and shanty towns of their own creation: Their peculiar genetics have made them more than adept at surviving on the thinner air of the upper city, and given them the ability to thrive at the normally unliveable altitude in which they’ve established their homes.
Runners are divided into two groups, ‘primary’ and ‘liberated’.
Primary runners are born within Runner established compounds (such as the legendary “Sundown”), and trained from youth to utilise the grace and precision that their society has become known for, making them more than physically ample for the rough life of a rooftop renegade.
However, "Liberated Runners" are far rarer in common Runner society: They’re the result of a recessive anti-Servitutem gene suddenly becoming activated in later life, meaning that they can be triggered as late as middle-aged.
Although they’re welcomed into the Runner fold with opened arms, they’re much harder to train- given their physical dispositions being less than ideal for the high-action demands of Runner life- and often they suffer great illness within the first few years of their liberation, as their bodies reform and readjust to the upper atmosphere.
There have also been rare incidents in which Liberated Runners have actually been freed from Servitutem’s grasp through a biological approach: It’s known that the Operari possess another formula which terminates the drug’s effects, and, every so often, a party member with a guilty conscience might just use this formula to free some unfortunate soul from their bonds.
Both types of runner are trained extensively in the art of CQC, but ordered only to utilise this training when it’s an absolute necessity. This is part of the moral code to which all Runners are expected to adhere.
It reads:
[*]Never fight when you can run.[/*]
[*]The ground is forbidden, unless it’s imperative you go down.[/*]
[*]We were all wage slaves, once: Stay your hand, they’re all potential Runners.[/*]
[*]Relationships and families are permitted: But you are a Runner first. Never forget your loyalties.[/*]
[*]Never kill, unless it is kill or be killed. Mercy is our ally.[/*]
[*]Our territories are our most precious secret: You should rather die than reveal their locations.[/*]
[*]And never be afraid… if you start running now, it’s only twenty seconds to Sundown.[/*]
Although it’s generally forbidden to descend to the ground-level of the city, certain Runner sectors have been known to do so when a matter of grave importance arises, such as the capture and subsequent descent of another Runner sector, or when very important resources fall from the rooftops and need to be collected.
These occasions are rare, as Runners struggle to maintain their breathing upon the ground: But if the Elders sanction it, it is sometimes permitted.
Also, despite this being the city of New London, many Runners aren't British: It's not uncommon for foreign workers, or their descendants, to have developed an immunity, nor is it unheard of for the Runners of other nations (such as Russia, or the Netherlands), to make their way to Britain in the hopes of combatting the Operari at their source.
Furthermore, although Runners might sometimes inhabit large makeshift societies, such as that of Sundown, the more physically capable are often divided into concentrated groups known as 'Sectors'.
It's these individual sectors- each territory using its own naming scheme- that are tasked with important tasks, such as acquiring resources, or protecting their territories, often with their lives.
Some of the more well-known sectors would be Sector O- a group of Runners that would later found The Omegas-, Sector X, an elite squadron of militant Runners who’re sanctioned to use deadly force whenever the Runner capital comes under direct attack, and Sector V, a group of young Runners currently tasked with protecting the city of Sundown and it’s colonies.
[Wage Slaves]
Wage Slaves make up the vast majority of the public in what remains of the first world nations.
They have no self-control, no dreams or aspirations, and most importantly, no self-perspective.
Working day in and day out solely for their own survival, they're completely ignorant to the reality around them.
It's believed (but unverified) that, instead, Wage Slaves live in their own self-produced fantasy, in which they inhabit an early 21st century society, where their work is aptly paid for, and they enjoy lives of none-existent leisure.
Wage Slaves have displayed knowledge of The Runners' presence (in fact, a small percentile of them have become Runners themselves), but usually pose no threats, instead dismissing them (ironically enough) as figments of their own imagination, or tricks of the light.
As long as Servitutem continues to be ingested by a Wage Slave, generally through the water supplies, they remain docile and without qualms.
However, if their supply is cut, they will break out in a seemingly uncontrollable psychosomatic rage, before eventually wearing themselves out, and finally calming down.
After this, their body will begin to produce its own chemicals, which actively reduce the effects of Servitutem withdrawal until it's next ingested.
This was a common method of rehabilitation that Runners once utilised for the purposes of recruitment, before it was deemed "Too cruel" by most (but not all) aspects of Runner society.
[The Omegas]
The Omegas are a territorial group of Ex-Runners that once went by the title of "Sector O."
Having attempted to assassinate the prime minister in their youth, it's Sector O that inadvertently created The State Spectres, as their near-success seemingly pushed John Gunner to produce his own elite police force for the purposes of his own protection.
Little is known about them now, save for the fact that they work outside of the moral code, and will attack other Runners who trek into their territory, whether they're aware of it or not.
Their location, the collapsed ruins of what was once “Old London”, is totally unreachable without prior knowledge of the traps and decay that surround it.
[The State Specters]
State Specters are the ultimate threat, to Runners and Omegas alike.
Trained to run like Runners and fight with both firearms and hand-to-hand combat, Spectres blend in with the Wage Slave populous, keeping an eye on the workers as they lie in wait of any Runners unlucky enough to cross their paths.
Often, State Spectres are a rare case in which those immune to the formula are located before they become Runners, and are instead indoctrinated through the use of mind-altering drugs and psychotics, the effects of which are then reinforced with LSD trips.
It’s also been observed in the past that captured Runners- those that, for whatever reason, weren’t killed upon capture- have been reconditioned to serve the role of a State Spectre, to the point that they forget their past alliances, and regard their reformation as them having simply “Changed to a more justice-orientated lifestyle.”
Often, they are hard (and sometimes near-impossible) to spot until it's too late, as they are trained extensively to give off the outward appearance of having been totally indoctrinated whenever they’re hiding amongst the Wage Slaves.
However, they're also quick to turn, and can begin the chase the moment they recognize a Runner, often apprehending them if they catch their prey by surprise.
They can spot a Runner a mile away, which has immensely detrimental to our numbers in the past.
It's unknown how many Spectres there are currently serving, now, but it's a well-known rule of thumb that Runners should always watch their backs when travelling at night: Spectres generally begin their roof-top patrols at dusk, and cease at dawn, often garbed in all-black.
[Twenty seconds to Sundown]
Sundown was once the biggest factory district in New London.
Standing massive and resolute, the buildings were constructed by Sundown Cola in 2054, a French soft drinks company that was seeking to turn a hefty profit in industrialized Britain.
The Sundown facility is not only nine hundred meters tall, but also quite a few hectares wide, making up about a quarter of the north-eastern district of industrial New London.
However, as the facility was so spacious, Runners soon moved in post-Servitutem, and constructed their own capital city there.
The size of the city is simply breath-taking in comparison to other Runner territories, and so as a means of protecting it, instead of Sundown being built on top of the disused buildings, it was instead built inside of them, invisible to any prying eyes, saves for the occasional visit from an incautious Runner.
The city is well known in Runner communities, regarded as the centre of their society, even abroad, and is currently watched over by both Sectors X and V.
It's been dissected over the years, and split into various departments, including the market place, present in the chamber that houses the old ingredient silos, the sleeping quarters, which can be found within the old office-building section, a training court yard built on top of the old parking lot, and many other facilities.
It's also where the Runners keep young recruits, and the old cellars- which is where “Sundown Premium” had once been brewed- is where Wage Slaves had, in the past, been kept during their re-conditioning, whilst suffering the withdrawal effects of Servitutem.
The fact that Sundown is so well hidden, and filled with so many competent recruits, has caused to begin thinking of it as a perfect haven, and their metropolis above the clouds.
And so the saying was born, "You're never too far from safety... if you start running now, it's only twenty seconds to Sundown."
[Your Runner]
Great work, Runner! You've proven you're smart enough to keep your head above the water, and you're trustworthy enough to protect Sundown!
Let's just get you signed up, and you'll be good to go!
(Runners)
Name:
Age (16+):
Gender:
Nationality:
Years as a Runner:
Description of appearance (and outfit):
A brief bio (complete with personality):
Melee weapon:
(Specter)
Name:
Age (16+):
Age when enrolled as a specter:
Identification number:
Gender:
Nationality:
Years as a specter:
Description of appearance (and outfit):
A brief bio (complete with personality):
Melee weapon:
Unarmed training:
(Omega)
Just a brief note: Having broken off from the Runners, the Omega have developed a somewhat clan like mentality. As such, they more closely resemble a tribe, in the sense that they've added a sort of vague spirituality to their violence, so it doesn't seem unprovoked. This is the reason they have things such as 'given names', titles earned from elder Omegas.
This is not to say that they’re deep into the philosophies of life and nature, but more to assert the fact that positions in Omega society are reinforced by brute strength and respect, as opposed to internal politics (as one might see in Runner society.)
Name:
Earned name: (Nickname or Title)
Age (16+):
Born Omega/Turned from Runner:
Nationality:
Description of appearance:
A brief biography:
Runner rival:
Specialty: (Close combat, marksmanship, climbing, running, disguise)
Melee weapon:
Long range weapon (not mandatory):
Brutality: (Not great, modest, frighteningly so.)
Goal as an Omega: (Optional)
[Runner Roster]
Churchill Gunner - Captain Jenno
Klaus & Marina Hoffen - Pumpkin Prince
Kenna Vagen - SuperTitch
Eva Janssen - Vivid Daydreamer
Melanie Caine - Empath
Henry Goodman - Blandman
Acacia Ridder - BerryBuns
Churchill Gunner - Captain Jenno
Klaus & Marina Hoffen - Pumpkin Prince
Kenna Vagen - SuperTitch
Eva Janssen - Vivid Daydreamer
Melanie Caine - Empath
Henry Goodman - Blandman
Acacia Ridder - BerryBuns
[Omega Roster]
Tabitha Reynard - Pumpkin Prince
Roark Swallows - Captain Jenno
Dominick Sutherland - Blandman
Ruslana Oryol - Zordon
Tabitha Reynard - Pumpkin Prince
Roark Swallows - Captain Jenno
Dominick Sutherland - Blandman
Ruslana Oryol - Zordon
[Spectre Roster]
Gilligan Gunner - Coming soon
Aleta Arabella - Pumpkin Prince
Thomas Daniels - Blandman
Gilligan Gunner - Coming soon
Aleta Arabella - Pumpkin Prince
Thomas Daniels - Blandman
