deegee

Average Joes of the Verse

Edits to Malatrin made. Shall I do up an entry for Malatrin-Alpha as a planet? I'll also have a draft of my character up in an hour or so. :)

Average Joes of the Verse

My grasp of xeno sociobiology is minimal, but the Malatrin castes lived apart, coming together for mating and the early stages of child-rearing. Little else. As for the level of power displayed by the invaders / enslavers, the species the Malatrin refer to as the Gor'shun (a pretty terrible word in their language, the equivalent of which does not exist in English, or any other human language) I would describe that species, too, except they have not been seen in millennia, and the Malatrin are notoriously close-lipped about it.

Average Joes of the Verse

Malatrin race

Name: Malatrin.
Lifespan: 60 standard years.
Home-world: Malatrin Alpha, a habitable world in a binary star system. 87% of the surface of Malatrin Alpha is covered in Oxygen rich oceans. The Malatrin are just as comfortable in water as out. As their society advanced, the Malatrin expanded to most of the planet's scant surface terrain, as well.
Physical Decription - General statistics.
Average height: 5'5", Average weight: 150 lbs.
Physical Characteristics: Malatrin skin tones vary from pale blue-grey to vivid aquamarine depending on their mood. They have some control over this tonality. The tentacles covering the head and much of the upper torso always appear a shade or two darker. The Malatrin always take great care in the physical presentation of these tentacles, which are useful appendages, colour and position displaying emotion and used in communication to punctuate and accentuate speech, much like human hand gestures. The Malatrin can shoot a spray of inky fluid from the mouth which causes no damage but can cause temporary blindness. Gills (covered by a temporary membrane while out of the water) allow breathing in, or out of the water. Malatrin are highly intelligent and typically ambidextrous. They readily adapt to new technology and have contributed much to occupied space. Malatrin need to live within a short distance of a large body of water, or in a specialized tank. They can survive for indefinite periods on land, but a complete absence of water leads to great mental stress, and an upsurge in aggression.
Genders: Malatrin are matriarchal and matrilineal. Females are the primary decision-makers. Females are typically more slender and fine than the males who are more heavily muscled, and have barbs on the end of their tentacles. Most males are part of the warrior caste. The two castes of Malatrin society typically live apart, coming together for mating and the early stages of child-rearing, little else. Malatrin are by their nature slightly suspicious of other races. Procreation is via intercourse, much like with humans. Multiple births are rare.
Society: At some point in the Malatrin's past (generations ago) they were enslaved by a warrior race the Malatrin refer to as the Gor'shun. This sentient, aggressive race is seldom mentioned by the Malatrin, and the time of their subjugation is a part of their history they do not speak of publicly. The Gor'shun have not been seen in almost a thousand years. This invasion of their home-land drove a further wedge between the two Malatrin castes. The females saw the inherent danger and opposed interaction, while the males were overwhelmed by the invaders' promises of power, and led the invaders to the Malatrin underwater cities, thus allowing the takeover to commence. The females were enslaved, and all but a very few males were killed, and were kept for breeding. To this day, though their enslavement ended a millennia ago, Malatrin males are outnumbered by their female counterparts three-to-one.
War Alignment: Neutral. The Malatrin have no ill-will toward Humans per se, but certainly see their inherent danger as a youthful species with a dubious past.

**cannot take all credit. Borrowed some info, but it's a race that I think will be right at home here. edits in this colour.**

Average Joes of the Verse

Stellar. Coming right up!

Average Joes of the Verse

So I didn't get much reaction in the Int Chk area... am I good to have a go here?

'No Escape-esque'

Hello all. deegee here. This is my first stab at writing an interest check. (depending on how this goes, I'll flesh it out into an OOC.) Looking for 3-5 players for a high-casual / low-advanced RP, set in a place the likes of which I've never seen well-demonstrated on an RPG site such as this.

There was a film... mid-'90s, starring Ray Liotta, called 'No Escape.' (not to be confused with the Owen Wilson film 'No Way Out'...) The thrust of it was that prisons had become privatized, and that one such prison corporation had purchased an island to drop their most undesirable of undesirables. This was counter to the 'official' rules by which corporations could conduct business, which still fell squarely in the 'brick and mortar' style of prisons. The prisoners on the island were left to their own devices for the most part, eventually falling into two factions. There was a bestial, savage group called the 'Outsiders' (think marauding bikers from 'Mad Max' meets the barbaric, bloodthirsty horde of 'Doomsday') and a far more peaceful tribe called the 'Insiders.' (think the 'Hilltop,' from Walking Dead.)

This film got a lot right, but never found much of an audience in theatres. Sure, there are nods to, and scenes that feel a whole lot like 'Escape from New York' or 'Maze Runner..' or 'Hunger Games' but I love the idea that the inhabitants are all hard cases, cons, broken people. And I love the notion that there is no reprieve. No end to the hell, except death. Of course, left to our own devices, the basest of us will devolve into something evil and savage. The best of us (or the wrongly accused?) would seek something brighter.

As GM, I will play a role, but I will also drive the action. See -- one of the factions will receive regular supply drops. The other does not. I am classing this as apocalyptic, or PA, as the tech is extremely minimal (whatever you find on the island, or were able to hide as you were transported to the island.) That said, I imagine the time to be slightly ahead of today, so we are set in the future, though any advances in tech are mitigated by their complete absence from the setting.

Who's interested?

Average Joes of the Verse

I was born for this.

Welcome to Geurchville [Criminal/Gang Slice of Life]

Jesse was five beers into the night, draining the bottles like they were water, when Betty Lee and Marie entered the Sin Den. These fucking beers weren't doing anything except putting a dent in his pocket. Goddamn fight, fucking up his night. Coulda been he would have watched some peelers, finished a box a' beer, and gone home to fall onto his cot. But no, these assholes had to come in, start shit, and tweak his head. It was bad enough being close to the Moons, just working on the blacktop all day. But there was no fucking escape in this town. He saw faces he knew. Faces that he knew, knew him. But he couldn't speak to them. Couldn't have swung a fist even if he'd wanted to. Parole. Straight. Fuckers.

This had gone on long enough that the pigs would show soon, and that was a headache he didn't need. He was marked for harassment, it seemed. Every time a bronze badge even caught a whiff of him, he was being questioned about his business. No thanks. He got up, and drained the last of his Coors, tossing the empty bottle onto the table. He walked to the bar, paid for one more round, and began his walk through the Sin Den, to the door. Stepped over one pair of fighters, rolling on the floor. Side-stepped fists that were flying (not at him, but close by) and ducked a beer bottle aimed at a Laurent head, all while trying (and failing) to make eye contact with those he knew.

He managed to make eye contact with a Bloody Moon who was beating his opponent to a fine, misty pulp, and nodded once at Marie as he cracked his last beer, and took a long pull. Jesse cast a final glance around the bar, spotted Bambi, and half-smiled at her before pulling his hood up and stepping out into the hot night. Not his scene. Maybe never was. His shitty, rusted-out 67 Cougar was parked against the curb, and he opened the drivers' door, slumping heavily into the seat, finishing off the beer and tossing the empty onto the passenger footwell, beside five or six others.

He twisted the key and the engine roared to life, settling into a lumpy idle. Jesse reached into the glovebox, and pulled out what remained of a fifth of whiskey, biting off the cap and pouring a measure down his gullet. For a moment, he almost hoped the brawl would spill out, into the street. But it didn't. Shifting into reverse, he backed out, into the deserted street, and drove the two blocks to his trailer. He got out, leaving the door to the car open, and flipped an overturned lawn chair back upright. A couple more pulls on the bottle, and it too was empty, tossed into the grass.

He thought of something then, and got up, kicking the unlocked door to his trailer open. Inside, it looked as if someone had turned the place upside down, looking for evidence. But no, this was just Jesse's life. He found what he was after under the mattress. His 1911. Walking back outside, he sat on the bottom step of his stoop, cleaning the gun (chamber empty, slide back and locked, magazine ejected. Couldn't be too safe...) After the final wipe-down with fine oil (Louisiana moisture and humidity were terrible for firearms) he reloaded the weapon, and studied it awhile...

@Kingfisher @Valeriana @MegaOscarPwn @Lady of Lore

The Risen: Fear the Fallen

There she was. klak. klak. Her boots on the tile. Her light wasn't helping the matter, and for a moment, he considered just pulling the trigger. Two of them. Two would mean trouble. Two would mean more will come. More would mean the stinkers. Trouble. Trouble... he couldn't trust her. Sure, sure. Not looking for trouble. klak.

"Like the others. Right..." Easy... easy... game-face. (cosmetics, foundation, $6.99, aisle 6 -- 'beauty products.') "Shut up!" Sometimes that voice was just too present. too close. Bad timing. Did I say that out loud? The light... her light (C-cell batteries, checkout #3 display -- place where you just whacked Dude with an Edger -- $24.99, aisle 17 -- 'garden implements') "I said cut it OUT!" ...was still lingering close at-hand, so that he couldn't focus. klak. The gun wavered in his hand a little, aimed at her (general location.) The barrel of the gun looked big... dangerous. Dirty. Like it was ready to deliver infection and pain. The fact that it quaked slightly in his (nervous? sick?) hand did her no favours, though the fact that he wasn't pointing directly at her, but only vaguely at her, was of some consolation.

"y-you just need to go. Away from here. Take your friend and leave. I-I just don't want to have to kill him. Or you. But you can't stay. Can't. I'm just not done, see? If I was done, you could stay, and it'd be swell." His face loses all emotion. "But I'm not. So you can't. Go." (bullets, security counter, no listed price [NFS!] -- you can always replenish...) "SHUT. UP!"

The Risen: Fear the Fallen

ohshitohshitohshit, she's being cautious. ohgodohgod... I can't see her anywhere. I was expecting her to step out, show herself. Mind racing. What now? What if this one wakes up? **game face... game. face.**

"Come out. Show yourself. And 'Grant' will be fine."