I'm new, I'm old, I've been around the block and back, and now I'm here to bless you with my silliness.
Ladies and gentlemen.
Green grocers and fish mongers,
World of Warcraft drones and DOTA spetznaz,
May I present to you this piece of glorious artwork, the likes of which has never been seen and probably never will be seen again in our life time.
Roll up, roll up, and state thy interest!
You're a high flying science whizz, working in some desolate top secret government facility located way out in the Nevada desert. For years, you and your colleagues have strived to alleviate mankind of his great burden - perishable greens, that go bad far too quickly. On the cusp of a substantial breakthrough, however, you and your team accidentally established a wormhole to an alien world.
Naturally, hordes of aliens of every variety have poured through this wormhole, and are running rampant around the Longer Green Life Inc facility. They're confused, somewhat primitive, but absolutely very deadly. Security did what they could, but there's only so much that half full doughnut boxes and tasers can do against extra terrestrial life forms.
So as one may expect, the natural evolution of this catastrophe was for the appearance of government death squads, sent in to kill, kill, kill! Helicopters, blackops squads, nuclear devices with ambiguous count downs - you name it - they've got it!
And to make matters worse? You've still got 5 minutes left on your lunch break. I mean yeah, the possibility of death is climbing by the second, but there's no way you're going to leave the canteen and get to work on saving your ass in your own time. No way. That's how they get you! Better to leave it, so that you're saving yourself on the company's time. That way you're getting paid for doing something that ultimately benefits you, get it? That's why you're a scientist, because intelligent thoughts like these are common in that brain of yours.
Still, when it is time to leave the canteen, bear in mind that you're on the facility's lowest level, encased in rock, and that there's about 50 floors of crazy science shiz, aliens and ooh-rah marines that you've gotta fight through. Good thing you're a scientist, who is perfectly capable of merging the microwave and the toaster into some kind of death ray, or jury rigging the fridge into an ice cannon.
Science!
There should be a whole bunch of stuff here, but an alien ate it. So um, just be nice to each other I guess, and try to have fun? Certainly don't take anything seriously.
This is like Half-Life meets Airplane.
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Appearance:
Weapons:
Known Skills:
History: Urgh, I mean, this is totally optional. Don't think anyone is really going to care about your character's daddy issues in this, unless of course they're hilariously relevant.
Name: Fordon Mreeman
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Appearance: Fat Caucasian guy, with short ginger hair and goatee. Wears a lab-coat, and thick framed glasses. Has a constant serious expression at all times.
Weapons: Four slice toaster rigged to the microwave, creating a mini-Hadron collider that fires out toast at frightening speeds; capable of penetrating tank armour. Needs bread as ammo.
Known Skills: Manages never to talk, like, EVER. He's not mute, he just doesn't talk. Like, he'll sit there staring at you the whole time you're talking and not say anything. Instead he just stares at you. It gets creepy real quick but for some reason we hired him so yeah whatever.
Ladies and gentlemen.
Green grocers and fish mongers,
World of Warcraft drones and DOTA spetznaz,
May I present to you this piece of glorious artwork, the likes of which has never been seen and probably never will be seen again in our life time.
Roll up, roll up, and state thy interest!
Green Life
A wAcKy Role Play
In the Name of Longer Lasting Lettuce!
You're a high flying science whizz, working in some desolate top secret government facility located way out in the Nevada desert. For years, you and your colleagues have strived to alleviate mankind of his great burden - perishable greens, that go bad far too quickly. On the cusp of a substantial breakthrough, however, you and your team accidentally established a wormhole to an alien world.
Naturally, hordes of aliens of every variety have poured through this wormhole, and are running rampant around the Longer Green Life Inc facility. They're confused, somewhat primitive, but absolutely very deadly. Security did what they could, but there's only so much that half full doughnut boxes and tasers can do against extra terrestrial life forms.
So as one may expect, the natural evolution of this catastrophe was for the appearance of government death squads, sent in to kill, kill, kill! Helicopters, blackops squads, nuclear devices with ambiguous count downs - you name it - they've got it!
And to make matters worse? You've still got 5 minutes left on your lunch break. I mean yeah, the possibility of death is climbing by the second, but there's no way you're going to leave the canteen and get to work on saving your ass in your own time. No way. That's how they get you! Better to leave it, so that you're saving yourself on the company's time. That way you're getting paid for doing something that ultimately benefits you, get it? That's why you're a scientist, because intelligent thoughts like these are common in that brain of yours.
Still, when it is time to leave the canteen, bear in mind that you're on the facility's lowest level, encased in rock, and that there's about 50 floors of crazy science shiz, aliens and ooh-rah marines that you've gotta fight through. Good thing you're a scientist, who is perfectly capable of merging the microwave and the toaster into some kind of death ray, or jury rigging the fridge into an ice cannon.
Science!
Rules
There should be a whole bunch of stuff here, but an alien ate it. So um, just be nice to each other I guess, and try to have fun? Certainly don't take anything seriously.
This is like Half-Life meets Airplane.
Character Sheet
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Appearance:
Weapons:
Known Skills:
History: Urgh, I mean, this is totally optional. Don't think anyone is really going to care about your character's daddy issues in this, unless of course they're hilariously relevant.
Character Example
Name: Fordon Mreeman
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Appearance: Fat Caucasian guy, with short ginger hair and goatee. Wears a lab-coat, and thick framed glasses. Has a constant serious expression at all times.
Weapons: Four slice toaster rigged to the microwave, creating a mini-Hadron collider that fires out toast at frightening speeds; capable of penetrating tank armour. Needs bread as ammo.
Known Skills: Manages never to talk, like, EVER. He's not mute, he just doesn't talk. Like, he'll sit there staring at you the whole time you're talking and not say anything. Instead he just stares at you. It gets creepy real quick but for some reason we hired him so yeah whatever.
