Bourgeoisie

The Hallows Inn [Revamped]

Looks very interesting. Though shouldn't you make an ooc first?

Comedy Coup Kingdom

I dont know how fiasco is played...it could very be, maybe? @Bourgeoisie

@PixiePudding

Fiasco is a dice-less role playing game where the players act out deteriorating scenarios that usually end in really bad things happening to the characters.

A.I Mates

@Pair of Hearts
Nah, it's fine, just a bit confused.

Comedy Coup Kingdom

How much is this gonna resemble a fiasco game?

A.I Mates

@Pair of Hearts

Wat.

A.I Mates

@Framing A Moose

I can see it now. One is an office worker dissatisfied with their boring and normal life. The other one is a suave and bombastic pirate AI, ready to swoop the office worker off of their feet. Together, they'll have the romance of the century.

Is anyone up for a roleplay purely based in comedic value?

Looks Interesting.

The Pickers

The Captain was speaking again, something about meeting all the sapients in the common area. This roused Cú from his slumber, pulling him from a memory dream of THESOUNDOFTHEPACKSHOWLCHILLINGTHEHOUNDTOTHECORETHEHUNTBEGANLONGAGOLASERSBULLETBLOODNOPLEASESTOPTHEACRIDSCENTOFBURNINGFLESHFILLSMYNOSTRILS
and from his position of curling in a ball on his stomach, with his limbs tucked in. Snapping to alertness, the clone uncurled himself from his position on the ground. He had fallen asleep reading a data pad, a work titled "Living in the ruins of the Self: A study of the effect of the increased Galaxilization of the economy on the psyche of various sapient races and their sense of self" by some professor that Cú had followed after his release from the clutches of the Teufelshunde's War Court. He had found the professor's ideas in a trash can, where he had been scrounging for food. He remembered himself back then. Young, broken, lost, searching for a new cause to follow. While Cú still considered himself neither mature nor unlost, the work had set the seed of the idea that the Teufelhunde did not need to follow another to have a purpose.

Yawning wildly, Cú sniffed the air, tasting the air around him. Old, stale and recycled, the Teufelshunde nearly growled at the unnatural taste and scent, before reigning himself in. He had lost enough of his freedom following his instincts, and if their was anything that Cú hated more than bowing to another was cats. "No, wait, that's not right," Cú thought as he left his room, scratching himself with his clawed digits, "Well, whatever, it's still something I hate."

The thick, calloused digits on Cú's right hand rose to stretch over the Teufelshunde's limber frame, resting on his left shoulder. The arm brushed past the metal torc that Cú cursed everyday as a symbol of his reliance and deference to others. Scratching his left shoulder, the Teufelshunde walked down the hallway to the common area, padded feet letting Cú slide silently to his destination.

The passage's metal walls chilled the Teufelshunde, making him shiver slightly at the cold metal kissed the pads of his feet. For two years Cú had worked on similar ships, but still the cold lifeless corridors scared the hound. The feeling of lonesomeness, the aloofness of non-biological materials disagreed with the social needs the hound had felt his instincts pushing himself to in the past. Ignoring the sense of crushing loneliness that threatened to overcome him, Cú pushed on, closer to the entrance of the common area. As he came closer to the door, he began to feel a wrongness permeate his being, different from the feeling he had just pushed away.

"Have I forgotten something?" the hound asked himself as he walked into the common area, where the rest of the crew had already arrived. As he stood there in the doorway, in front of his captain and fellow pickers, it dawned on Cú what the wrongness he had felt was.

"Shit, I sleep naked"

The Pickers

Cú

Basic info

Cú

image

by http://leonovichdmitriy.deviantart.com/, also ignore the robot arm.

Theme Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qg57gTDz7w8

"I may descend from canines, but I'm anything but your best friend."

Name

Cù

Nicknames

Hound, Mutt, and Bastard, 'Cause you know, dog puns.

Position

Convict

Age

20

Gender

Male

Charged Crime(s)

War Crimes, Murder, Public Indecency

Reputation

Be advised, the Teufelshunde, Cù, is a violent and dangerous individual that is to be avoided at all cost. He has been tried for war crimes, but was released due to the fact that as a clone, his actions could not legally be held accountable according to the law code of his people. He was let free, only to be arrested three years later after a psychotic episode involving four bodies, a statue, 3 liters of milk and 4 kilos of explosives. This time, Cù was convicted and was given a choice between life imprisonment, death, or the life of a Picker. Obviously the hound to lead the life of a picker, where he has worked for two years.

Appearance

Cù is a tall humanoid with dull, matted black fur and blue eyes. Due to being a clone, Cù is nondescript among others of his race, near uncannily so. He stands 6'5" and weighs 370 lbs, lean for his species. Cù also wears a torc around his neck which served as a barcode from when he was a clone soldier. He has little physical augmentation, since his species has a cultural aversion to cybernetics. Cù's race is the Teufelshunde, a species of humanoid canines that have a large range of forms and sizes among one species, ranging from short and stout laborers to tall, proportioned leaders. Fur colors range from white to russet, with eye colors ranging from blue to brown.

Height

6'5

Weight

370 lbs

Personality

Personality
Raised as a soldier, Cù is heavily socially stunted, and has only recently started to mature under the influence of the galaxy's key philosophers, namely those who preach a message of self reliance and absolute freedom. At times, he offers deep wisdom, and others he's laughing at a poop joke that he just told. While he is not dumb, quite the opposite in fact, he has difficulty connecting and empathizing with other sapient, viewing them and himself in a systematized way, based on utility and birth.
As well, Cù is heavily traumatized by his actions during the civil war, where he was ordered to commit atrocities with his unit. This has left him with a conflicting view of authority, distrusting it while simultaneously deferring his judgement to his superiors. He rarely acts on his own, unless he has a psychotic episode, in which he goes into a berserker rage, attacking everything is sight. What causes this change, not even Cù himself know.
Likes

• Cleaning himself.
• Rending things to shreds with my claws. Eating raw meat.
• Studying the great writer Jack London and his works involving canines.
• Sniffing at things

Dislikes

• Vegetables
• Cats/Felines
• Other Teufelshunde
• Being called "doggie" or anything similay

Skills

• Hand to Hand (Or is it claw to claw?)
• Infantry training
• Tracking
• zero gravity movement

Weaknesses

• Strong Smells
• Violent temper (a result of his clone breeding accentuating the Teufelshunde's natural aggression)
• Little social grace

Fears

• Cephalopods
• Needles
• Being alone

History

History

Cù is a trained veteran of the planet scale Teufelshunde Civil War, where he served on the side of the separatist forces rebelling against their races caste system. Born and bred for war, Cù is actually a clone soldier that had been stolen and indoctrinated by the separatists to serve as shock infantry for the less martially bred main rebel force. He took part in the sack and massacre of multiple loyalists cities, however the clone eventually deserted and was captured by loyalist forces shortly afterwards

As mentioned in an earlier post, Cù is a highly unstable individual. He was born fully grown, and was not taught to be anything but a killer. He has spent two years as a picker, slowly building up enough credits to his freedom. With his handlers sudden interest with humanity, Cù is very excited to delve into the remnants of this "human" race and perhaps a way to his freedom.

Race Info

Teufelshunde

Lifespan

135-210 years for Alphas, 80-100 for Betas, 50-70 for Gammas. 20-50 for Deltas, 10-20 for Epsilons (Very brave new world, I know)

Home planet

Lupa-717, the home planet of the Teufelshunde, is a planet with similar atmospheric and gravitational conditions as Earth. The planet's biosphere is extremely varied, dominated by plains, jungle, tundra and arctic biomes. There are three major cities, Remus, Romulus and the capital Lycaon. Remus is the major manufacturer of the planet, producing technology and goods. With a population of 13 billion, primarily Deltas and Epsilons. Romulus is a city built entirely on training and education. It houses the training academies of the Alpha and Beta armed forces, as well as providing trade schools for Betas and Gammas. Lycaon is the main trade hub, the administration center, and cultural center of the Teufelshunde. The city is a cosmopolitan sprawl of interconnected arcologies, housing billions of sapients.

Culture

Culture

The Teufelshunde have a caste system, designated Alpha (Leaders), Betas (Soldiers, researchers, etc.), Gammas (Artisans, office workers), Deltas (Manufactuers, skilled laborers), and the Epsilons (Servants, menial labor, "slave". For the Teufelshunde, birth and status is everything, determining the occupation, living status, as well as the manner in which one interacts with others. Social mobility is almost non-existant in the culture and society of the Teufelshunde, which causes some issues as discussed later. Non-Teufelshunde are treated depending on their occupation and birth in a similar manner to the caste system, only more lenient.

Due to the fact that the caste system is based on the genetics of the Teufelshunde, cloning is an acceptable practice in society, though mainly for the Betas and Epsilons. The Betas use cloning to maintain a large military force for the Alpha leaders, while the Epsilon clones are used to bolster the workforce. Due to the lack of care in cloning Epsilons, the caste as a whole is full of genetic defects that renders them incapable of higher mental functions and a short life span.

The Teufelshunde Civil war was a conflict between the Alpha and Beta ruling class and the lower castes. The Deltas, Gamma, and Epsilon populations outnumber the Alpha and Beta population by five to one. Though the ruling class had superior troops and technology, the Levelers (the name of the revolters) managed to gain a string of victories and pushed the ruling class out of Remus. Within Remus, the Levelers discovered a batch of Beta clone soldiers whom they promptly exploited against their enemies. For ten years, the Levelers held Remus, before the Alphas and Betas managed to retake the city and punish the Levelers. The next thirteen years saw a campaign of reduction and repression of the lower classes, with the upper classes taking complete control of the Epsilon masses. To this end, the practice of cloning has begin to lose favor, and clones have also been part of teh crackdown by the government

Wastelanders: The Dystopian Convoy

Calvin Roberts was strapping on his on new vest, watching as his new employer walked towards the group. The vest was a bit ill-fitting, being slightly bigger than he was. As Calvin finished his adjustments, one of the other members of the convoy introduced himself as William Jones. Deciding to be cordial, he adjusted his keffiyeh before placing his arms behind his back.

"Calvin Roberts at your service." Calvin drawled, his native Georgian accent lacing his words, as he nodded to his fellow convoy members, "If ya'll want something shorter, call me Cal." Introduction done, he stepped back to check on his car. Kneeling down, he started to inspect the tire wire, making sure the sharp metal string wouldn't damage his vehicles wheels. The blades of the wire extended a little past the hubcap of the four wheels, and glinted in the few rays of sun that penetrated the batterd garage. The Oshkosh handled well, and being a MRAP, wouldn't flip easily making grinding into other vehicles wouldn't be a problem. Standing up, Calvin grinned slightly as he remembered that the war chariots of old also had spikes on their wheels, waiting to ruin the day of the poor fellow caught in the spinning blades