Bork Lazer — Roleplayer Guild

The land and the sea. Only fools believe them to be different and only bigger fools believe the sea to be more free than the land. Fools. They are both cages, with the bait of freedom, security and power in both of them. 

And who has the key? People too powerful for you and I to imagine. The question is whether or not you have the guts to break your bars……..

It begins with a date. 

2099. The eve of a new century rising from the ashes of the old. 

It’s been 60 years after the Dark Crash. 50 years after the Nine Mile War. 45 years after the signing of the SEAEZO Treaty. 15 Years After the Pan Pacific Agreement. It’s a miracle we’ve managed to make it this far. 

2099. The twilight of the 21st century. 

It is the age of the Cyber. Machine has consumed flesh and code has subsumed thought. Man and machine have become intertwined as one. Bone is shed in favor of reinforced titanium, eyes are replaced with fibre-optic camlenses and limbs with multi-axial nanotube assemblies. Fashion catalogues have been replaced with designer aug catalogues. Spider legged mercenaries march into the Congo to wage war. The head striker of the Palladium Posse shows off his new Mark 5 mechano-thrusters. The meat is obsolete whilst metal has become the new human. 

The body is no longer sacred. 

It is the age of the Gene. To fight back against the metal, life must be altered beyond its natural boundaries. The GMO fear-mongering of the twenties lacked imagination and in spite of the constant protests of gene purist groups, genetic engineering is now as commonplace as dollar store candy. The human genome and all of its possibilities are now a playground for alleyway geneticists and laboratory eggheads to tinker with.  New varieties of New Babylon’s halophytic seaweed soy grow in the hydroponic gardens of soccer moms. Adverts for children’s kera-mods surge as halloween comes around the corner. Crowds part as a person screams out, his features half-man half-turtle, clutching a syringe of bootleg transcription stabiliser. The definition of human is quickly becoming more and more blurrier. 

Life is no longer sacred. 

It is the age of the Corp. Transnationals, mobile enterprises and startups permeate every facet of our lives, a capitalistic ecosystem of shadow warfare and trade deals. Though government institutions hold strong, corporate greed will soon erode it away like tides against a cliff. Your blue-collar livelihoods are dictated by the rise and fall of Lee-Platine’s stock values. Offers for university scholarships offered by a number of fast food industries dot the e-papers. Your package deliveries are sent over by an Iridium Heavy Industrial sky-bird, bristling to the teeth with anti-personnel smart guns. For your protection, of course. To be an individual underneath the yoke of the Corp is a paradox and the only way out is to fight dirty.

Your personhood is no longer sacred. 

It is the age of the Deep. Everything and everywhere is interconnected by an ocean of encrypted servers and data transmissions ranging in the gigabytes.  The physical and virtual worlds have melded together in two, forming a symbiosis of abstract and concrete. AR addicts doze off in the streets, trapped in a constant cycle of chip abuse and sensory deprivation. Poachers surf the forbidden territories of the Deep, hunting down wild malware to capture and reuse for their own purposes. Hidden deep within, remnants of malfunctioning intelligences roam around like lost children, enslaved to their own subroutines. Those who desire can sink deeper to search for the truth but at what cost? 

Reality is no longer sacred.

Let’s take a closer look at the situation. 

The South China Sea. An ocean of red and riches. It has been fought and contested over by countries in South East Asia since the beginning of the First IndoChina Wars.  It’s not hard to see why. It’s the hub of maritime trading in South East Asia, worth more than the Suez Canal in asyuan. Borders have been drawn up, agreed upon, re-negotiated and destroyed more times than history can count. It’s best not to ask too many questions about who started it since finger-pointing is the usual response. SEAEZO is the only thing keeping the region from becoming the battleground for World War 3. 

Where are you now? 

New Malacca. 

If there’s one word to describe New Malacca, it’s maze. It is a haphazard ramshackle arcology of docking harbors, hollowed out ships and hydro tunnels shifting in size and shape. Along with the ever changing assembly of warships and merchant vessels that come in and out every second, no sight in New Malacca is ever the same.

It is a land of the lost. The Great Flood spared few and sunk many. Those who remained either succumbed over time to the Corps or went on a pilgrimage of their own.  Splintered sects of Buddhist monasteries live out a meek existence on shanty boats. In the hustle of the wet markets, you hear Tagalog, Hokkien, a zoo of endangered languages forming a creole. On the docks, you see a crew of Burmese pipe spanners play a homebrew version of Poker on shipping containers. When all other options are off the table, New Malacca is what remains. 

It is a utopia of the illicit and illegal.  Crime, poverty and gangs wrack those who float above on water whilst the corps lurk underneath the offal, biding their time to pull strings and influence the state of power in the floating city. Trafficking routes for black ganja and Hype Out can be found all throughout the city. Gang wars are the city’s morning alarm clock. Just last week, an Armalance convoy was robbed and assaulted by full body cyber-loons. Violence and lawlessness are a constant within its rusting walls whilst duplicity and caution are as essential as oxygen. 

To be a part of New Malacca is to navigate this slippery maze. Most give up trying.

You didn’t come here to surrender, though. 

You came here to rise.

//PREMISE AND PLOT

June 15th 2099. 7:00 PM. Dead of the night. 

Suraiboshen. Best five star omakase this side of the Indian Ocean. 

That’s not why you’re here, though. You aren’t here because you got lucky on the ten thousand reservation list, nor did you have some fat cat pull some strings for you. 

You’re here because you got hired for a job. Top secret. A job that promised a 500,000 asyuan payout. Just the thing needed to propel you back up this world. 

Whether you were a discharged lawkeeper, a wanted script hacker or a news anchor stretching the bounds of investigative journalism, your background doesn’t matter. Your desperation and needs mattered more than your skills and now, you’re here. 

The two guards standing by the side of the door cough and nod towards you, the ancient hinoki oak door sliding open. You walk inside to take a seat...........

Straits of Steel is a post-apocalyptic cyberpunk ® roleplay set within the region of SouthEast Asia. Players will be taking the role of a group of savory and unsavory individuals that find themselves wandering around in the floating aquapolis of New Malacca. Your adventure begins when an unknown power broker contacts you about a one-time job offer that promises high risk but high reward. With nothing to lose, you accept it and find yourself waiting at the entrance of a seedy sushi bar to meet your man. Too bad no one told you that this wasn’t going to be a solo operation……. 

The roleplay will be a hybrid-sandbox linear group roleplay that revolves around a  collaborative tight narrative centered around the personal interactions of the players with each other and the natural environment interspersed with sections that allow for limited open world exploration, albeit with certain caveats. This approach is meant to allow for a sustainable level of player freedom without compromising the cohesion of the RP. The actions of the player will determine their influence and position within the landscape of New Malacca along with their relationships to each and every faction. Every decision that you make will have consequences or repercussions further down the line if you do not think carefully. 

//RULES

一 )If you’re seriously considering god-modding, powerplaying or metagaming within a play-by-post roleplay, don’t make me the target of wasting your time on the internet. It’s rare enough around these parts as it is. If an attempt at any of these aforementioned actions is made within the IC, then, repercussions will follow. Depending on the severity, this can range to a stern warning to permanent removal from the RP. 

二 )The genre of cyberpunk and adult themes are inextricably linked together. Therefore, this will be considered an 18+ RP in which adult and mature topics can be discussed and explored within the confines of the setting. However, all CS applications, IC posts and OOC posts must fall within the guidelines of RPGO’s terms of service. If you are seriously considering to engage in explicit NSFW behaviour with another poster, take it to the PMs. If not, I’m going to force you to take it to Pornhub via banning you from my RP. 

三 ) Start shit, get hit. Wheaton’s law applies here in this RP, both within the confines of the OOC and the IC. There will be absolutely no toleration for any bigotry, assholery, harassment or bullshit within this RP. When the GM tells you to stop, you stop. If you have problems with how this RP is being run, discuss it within PMs with me. If you have problems with another poster in this RP, discuss it with me in PMs. If there is any way to approach a situation without escalating conflict, do so. 

四 )When creating your character sheet in Straits of Steel, overpowered is not optimal. You are expected to create dynamic and fleshed out character concepts that fully embrace the nature of this world. You are not a former wetworks supersoldier packed with miniaturised thermonuclear weaponry. You are not the CEO of a Triple-A corporation. You are essentially a schlub near the bottom of the rungs of the socio-economic totem pole, attempting to claw your way up the food chain. 

五 )As Straits of Steel is an advanced level RP, posting quality and length are of the utmost priority. A minimum of three-four paragraphs is required for a post along with a reasonable level of descriptive writing. Quality over quantity is best but when quality goes hand in hand with quantity, it’s even better. 

六 )The rules for posting frequency are undecided as of now but a minimum requirement that all players must follow is to inform the GM of any discrepancies or possible IRL events that may interfere with post writing. The RP will be a mixture of regular cyclic posting order, collaborative Google docs posting and an experimental ‘free period’ posting where fast posting is allowed and there is no set order. 

七 )Discussion about storybuilding and worldbuilding is not only encouraged within this RP but to be promoted. Forging your own possibilities in this setting and writing out the backstories of new factions is always welcome. 

八 )Any questions or queries that have not been resolved after reading these rules can be followed up if you believe it to be necessary in the OOC or privately.

//MECHANICS

• In Straits of Steel, an emphasis will be placed on creating a closed sandbox environment for players to interact in within the confines of the narrative. To help accentuate this, interactive objects and NPCs in the environment will be highlighted with specific colored text. 

• The status of objects and health of NPCs will also be illustrated at the end of an GM post as such below. 

Yikil Borosky: Minor concussion, perforated femur, dislocated shoulder joint, in severe distress

//CHARACTER SHEET

Keep in mind that the format and style of your character sheet can vary, but it must include all the essential details listed in this example character sheet.

//YOUR SELF

Name:

Age: 

Gender: 

Affiliation: (The faction you are affiliated with. A list of avaliable factions will be present within the OOC. Alternatively, you can make your own homebrew faction.) 

Appearance: 

//YOUR SOUL

PERSONAL GOAL: (What are you trying to achieve in New Malacca) 

LIKES: 

DISLIKES: 

REPUTE: (We've been asking a lot about how your character looks at the world, so, let's reverse it around. How does the world view your character? What status does your character have in the world?) 

HEEL:(Heels are basically an over-riding character flaw that exemplifies the type of person your character is. It's what other people know your character for being. Examples of Weak Spots can be: Hubris, Selfishness, Naivety, Easily Angered, Inferiority Complex, Napoleon Complexes, Vengeful, Sadistic, Paranoia. A Heel is different from just another normal character flaw because they are an essential part of your character that makes your character who they are. They can never escape from a Weak Spot.)

CODE: (Codes are a deep sentiment, passion or virtue that a character holds dearly to, in spite of the hostile and unrelenting nature of the Wal. It's a trait that someone would have if they lived in a sane world outside the Wal. Soft Spots can be: Valuing freedom, A Hero Complex, Social Justice, Friendship, Honesty, Being Protective of your Family, Protecting the Weak, A Pact that You Abide By, Veganism, Empathy.) 

QUIRKS:(Unique traits that your character is known for doing such as collecting ears off their dead enemies, always ordering their drinks with a single cube of ice, whatever strange things that immedietely makes them distinct from everyone else.) 

//YOUR PAST

(Can be a short biography or a writing sample detailing their past. I do not expect a didatic summary of each and every event in your characters lives but only the most important ones.) 

//YOUR PERSON

ATTRIBUTES: (A list of the most prominent skills that your character has picked up over the years. You have a maximum of 3.) 

BODY MODS: (Cyberware or Bioware that your character has integrated into their body. No limit.) 

EQUIPMENT: (Self-Explanatory)

This is an interest check to gauge interest for this concept. The OOC will only be made if there is sufficient interest observed within this thread.

Barnabum Yericksford

“Yoooooooooo, dwarf. That’s a funny little beard you got there.” The pixie giggled, waving his hands in what could be misinterpreted as Treant sign language. He took another puff of the cigar, pupils crooked in opposite directions, as he stared dazedly out into the space port. Barnabum gingerly took the cigar from the pixie and took a puff, wheezing as the dry smoke entered his lungs and made him briefly retch for a second. 

Ah, this was the life. Hanging out and smoking mushrooms with pixie sailors. 

Unfortunately, pixie constitution’s didn’t quite hold him to gnomish constitutions. One of the pixie sailors didn’t take quite as well as his other compatriots, his head tilted upwards and walking around in circles repeatedly. 

“ All these stars make a salad. All these stars make a salad. All these stars make a salad. All these stars make a salad. All these stars make a salad.” 

Barnabum perked up at Dihala’s command and rubbed his hands together excitedly. Finally, they could get out of this blasted rock and finally set sail into the far outer reaches of this quadrant. He stood up, knees a little wobbly from chomping down 3 mushroom cigars, before replying back. 

“ Aight, c’ptain. I’ll just go downstairs and warm her up. Don’t want her dying of a stroke on her first voyage afér all.” 

The pixie who had been staring upwards suddenly shouted. 

“ BARNEY! I need you to tell me that I can have the rest of your cigars!” 

“ You can have the rest of my -” 

“SHUT UP, YOU’RE NOT MEH DAD!” 

The pixie then returned back to his routine. 

“ All these stars make a salad. All these stars make a salad. All these stars make a salad. All these stars make a salad. All these stars make a salad.” 

He might have given him a little too much dried shroom. Poor lad. He didn’t develop the taste for it yet. Barnabum gently picked up the pixie by the shoulders who was still muttering incessantly to himself and set him on top of a barrel full of pickled dloops. He then made his way again down towards the engine room. 

“ Come on, old girl. Don’t be temperamental with me.” The gnome murmured, finding the button, and resting his finger against it. He sucked in a breathe and pressed it. Nothing for a moment. Then, the old engine began to whirr to life. Barnabum wiped off the tang of grease off his hands, grinning, as he felt the Maiden’s heartbeat in the palm of his hand. 

Outside, the thrusters began to belch green smoke as the Wayward Maiden shuddered, the runic fields on her hull blinking with energy as arcane energy soared through conduits and reignited the sails, now shimmering with golden light.

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