So far the CS looks good. You don't have to come in from a previous group though. You could just be in the same group as they aren't even inside the base yet.
I'll add your character to the list soon as I get back home. Hope to see some posts soon.
Just some things that may or may not be a problem though:
- She was promoted through the ranks.and yet she's still private first class. What's going on?
- Do take note that by 2016 onwards, the drug cartels are mostly reduced in power greatly and by 2020, are insignificant to the point of resembling common criminals.
- Also, are you sure your character's 1.5m? Because that's extremely short, even by Hispanic and Asian standards...
Darkraven Member
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STATUS: The hidden benefit of wearing 8 rings total? They double as a pair of brass knuckles in case you get into a fight. 8 yrs ago
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The hidden benefit of wearing 8 rings total? They double as a pair of brass knuckles in case you get into a fight.
8 yrs ago
Just as we would turn around and condemn or laugh at our ancestors for their barbarism, our descendants will do the same.
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8 yrs ago
I'm happy with participating in a single RP - Something tells me I'm the only one?
8 yrs ago
In Batam for a month after quitting my job. Been powering through my writing since. I guess this is where I call myself a full-time professional writer.
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In other words, it would be great if you'd include such details.
Man, I knew it would be hard to come up with a post following mine. Basically every PC is going to Echo squad. I was thinking to provide more opportunity for character interaction but I might have gotten a little greedy on that :D
2002, 19 December 2020, UNXIPU Base
"I'll be damned if I have to wear that stupid fucking hat." Carrie had muttered under her breath. The LAPD Officer could hear it like she had shouted it into his ear. He was, after all, a police officer.
"Don't worry, kiddo. You're no city cop." He said dryly as he was leading the crowd to the warehouse, past sandbags that looked not much distinguishable form the sandy floor and chainlink fences nearly invisible in the darkness, "Last I heard, soldier boys and girls get to pick between caps, berets and helmets." He continued droning, a machine running out of juice.
"A little optimism would help, patrolman." The guard flanking him added. His accent and uniform suggests that he was Nigerian, and from the way he spoke to the American, he seemed to outrank him, "At least there's no chance of getting shot by drunken hobo in American slum. I heard it is getting really bad there." And that was an African telling an American that things were bad in his own country. Times had indeed changed.
"You know, getting shot at by a drunken hobo, or even better, by some evil green man from outer space might not seem like a bad thing! Better than watching the sand build up eight hours a day! Don't think I'd be that lucky though." The LAPD Officer brushed his Nigerian partner's comment aside, wanted to say more but decided to save it until next time as they were approaching the doors leading to the warehouse - those were huge doors, meant for cargo to pass through. As if on cue, the doors slid open, slow due to inertia, revealing the contents within. On the side was the UN organisation's plaque, with UNXIPU written huge, capital and bold, somehow showing confidence that it didn't have. The logo, stamped in bronze, consists of the standard UN globe and laurel with an abstract UFO hovering overhead. A notepad and an old scrivener's fountain pen was superimposed on the globe. The motto of UNXIPU was 'Verum, Securitatem, Incolumitas', latin for the truth, freedom from fear and harm. The truth about UFOs leading the world away from danger and towards a peace of mind.
There were no shelves full of cargo within the warehouse, nor make-shift bunks. Instead, a huge cargo elevator was the centre-piece of it all, large enough for four cargo trucks to line up and descend into whatever underworld was beneath. Security personnel consisting of uniforms from all over the world were patrolling about, or helping with whatever odd jobs were at hand. Cargo was being lifted onto the elevator, and if one were to squint enough, one would be able to see that the crates held equipment and weapons, and each crate had different national flags on them. If one were to squint harder, one might even find his name printed on the crate. "If you boys and girls thought this was some storeroom then you'd be mistaken. This big ol' box in the middle of the desert? It's just a lil' shed to cover the entrance into the UN-Xi-Pu Headquarters. About the only cool thing in a hundred mile radius."
Before one could get to the humongous elevator though, one would have to get through the security checkpoint, manned by security, police and the occasional military personnel almost as bored as the LAPD Officer was. "Well, ladies and gentleman, this is where I get off. Just go through the security checkpoint and the guards will issue you your pass, mission pack and tell you where you're headed. See ya!" With that, the American officer made a turn to walk out, quite reluctantly.
A Malaysian policeman who was with the American and Nigerian who had been quiet so far, however, had something to add, "Just follow the sign when you're below. Alpha go to Alpha, Bravo go to Bravo. Don't Echo go to Delta or something. I'm sick and tired of lost people coming back to find us."
The security checkpoint seemed to be heavily garrisoned. The warehouse had two. The security personnel manning the post were all armed with shotguns and submachineguns in addition to their sidearms. The models they were carrying varied widely as they were all given to the UN by whatever country the security personnel came from. As a truck came through, the driver's security ID was checked and scrutinised, the cargo compartment searched. As bored as they were, they meant business.
"I'll be damned if I have to wear that stupid fucking hat." Carrie had muttered under her breath. The LAPD Officer could hear it like she had shouted it into his ear. He was, after all, a police officer.
"Don't worry, kiddo. You're no city cop." He said dryly as he was leading the crowd to the warehouse, past sandbags that looked not much distinguishable form the sandy floor and chainlink fences nearly invisible in the darkness, "Last I heard, soldier boys and girls get to pick between caps, berets and helmets." He continued droning, a machine running out of juice.
"A little optimism would help, patrolman." The guard flanking him added. His accent and uniform suggests that he was Nigerian, and from the way he spoke to the American, he seemed to outrank him, "At least there's no chance of getting shot by drunken hobo in American slum. I heard it is getting really bad there." And that was an African telling an American that things were bad in his own country. Times had indeed changed.
"You know, getting shot at by a drunken hobo, or even better, by some evil green man from outer space might not seem like a bad thing! Better than watching the sand build up eight hours a day! Don't think I'd be that lucky though." The LAPD Officer brushed his Nigerian partner's comment aside, wanted to say more but decided to save it until next time as they were approaching the doors leading to the warehouse - those were huge doors, meant for cargo to pass through. As if on cue, the doors slid open, slow due to inertia, revealing the contents within. On the side was the UN organisation's plaque, with UNXIPU written huge, capital and bold, somehow showing confidence that it didn't have. The logo, stamped in bronze, consists of the standard UN globe and laurel with an abstract UFO hovering overhead. A notepad and an old scrivener's fountain pen was superimposed on the globe. The motto of UNXIPU was 'Verum, Securitatem, Incolumitas', latin for the truth, freedom from fear and harm. The truth about UFOs leading the world away from danger and towards a peace of mind.
There were no shelves full of cargo within the warehouse, nor make-shift bunks. Instead, a huge cargo elevator was the centre-piece of it all, large enough for four cargo trucks to line up and descend into whatever underworld was beneath. Security personnel consisting of uniforms from all over the world were patrolling about, or helping with whatever odd jobs were at hand. Cargo was being lifted onto the elevator, and if one were to squint enough, one would be able to see that the crates held equipment and weapons, and each crate had different national flags on them. If one were to squint harder, one might even find his name printed on the crate. "If you boys and girls thought this was some storeroom then you'd be mistaken. This big ol' box in the middle of the desert? It's just a lil' shed to cover the entrance into the UN-Xi-Pu Headquarters. About the only cool thing in a hundred mile radius."
Before one could get to the humongous elevator though, one would have to get through the security checkpoint, manned by security, police and the occasional military personnel almost as bored as the LAPD Officer was. "Well, ladies and gentleman, this is where I get off. Just go through the security checkpoint and the guards will issue you your pass, mission pack and tell you where you're headed. See ya!" With that, the American officer made a turn to walk out, quite reluctantly.
A Malaysian policeman who was with the American and Nigerian who had been quiet so far, however, had something to add, "Just follow the sign when you're below. Alpha go to Alpha, Bravo go to Bravo. Don't Echo go to Delta or something. I'm sick and tired of lost people coming back to find us."
The security checkpoint seemed to be heavily garrisoned. The warehouse had two. The security personnel manning the post were all armed with shotguns and submachineguns in addition to their sidearms. The models they were carrying varied widely as they were all given to the UN by whatever country the security personnel came from. As a truck came through, the driver's security ID was checked and scrutinised, the cargo compartment searched. As bored as they were, they meant business.
Scribbles: And your effort is all that's needed. I completely understand.
RPCWhite: Well, it looks like a lot of people's going to be ousted around :D So he'd fit right in.
Everyone: Jiwon claims to be suffering from writer's block, which means we could proceed without him at the moment. I'll be coming up with a post soon.
Also, for those having trouble using the Collab google doc, double check if you're using the right email account while trying to access it. That might be the thing that's causing the problem.
RPCWhite: Well, it looks like a lot of people's going to be ousted around :D So he'd fit right in.
Everyone: Jiwon claims to be suffering from writer's block, which means we could proceed without him at the moment. I'll be coming up with a post soon.
Also, for those having trouble using the Collab google doc, double check if you're using the right email account while trying to access it. That might be the thing that's causing the problem.
We will have to wait for those who haven't post yet, and I'm due to post as well. I'm going to PM those who aren't active/as very active and see what's going on.
Still nothing. I guess I'll wait a bit longer.
Worse case scenario? There's going to be a lot of bodies dropping much later on.
Worse case scenario? There's going to be a lot of bodies dropping much later on.
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Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)
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10 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Great, progress!
So ah, will there be a new collab getting set up?
So ah, will there be a new collab getting set up?
Nah, it'd only be 3-4 days. It's well within the time limit before a character gets NPCed. At the most, he'd just not be mentioned very often if there's any forward motion in the story.
In the meantime, where's everyone else?
In the meantime, where's everyone else?
There's no set order to post... I believe it's in the sop?
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