Enigmatik

Through the Gateways: Humanity [Closed]

@Sigma

I feel as if the Conciousness could get along fine. They’d just say they’re just a different kind of democracy.

Through the Gateways: Humanity [Closed]

The Collective has some interesting competition in the Chosen...

Through the Gateways: Humanity

Ok this is a huge WiP and has taken me a lot of research to even get this far, but before I delve too deep into Wikipedia, I figured I should probably run it by @Tortoise first.

Nation Sheet

The Zetan Consciousness

The choice between humans and machines is a false dichotomy created to confuse and mislead.

Government Form:
_{Direct Democracy/Group Mind}

Demographics:
<sub>Homo Sapiens Machina

The Consciousness has passed beyond the limitations of Homo Sapiens Sapiens. Hundreds of years of mechanical tinkering with the building blocks of humanity has lead to them being recognisably different to the humans that once left Earth all those years ago. Perhaps the most obvious one is that Homo Sapiens Machina are a limited hive mind, otherwise known as a 'Group Mind' that they refer to as 'The Collective.' Although 'drones' maintain autonomy in action, they share a neural network that allows for a startling level of cohesion. Also, they dislike being called drones.</sub>

---
_{Under construction.}
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Planet Name and Description:
<sub>Zeta-5 is not a particularly friendly world to live on. With a thin, oxygen-poor atmosphere, poor resistance to interstellar threats such as radiation and extreme weather conditions and surface temperature range, most life on Zeta-5 is an extremophile of some kind. Competition is also extremley ferocious, with no animal settling into an apex position.

Despite all of this, there are some beneifts to living on Zeta-5. Past eons of interstellar bombardments have left the planet rich with elements and compounds that would be considered fantastically rare on Earth, and its twin captured moons burst with even more such minerals, all of which are gleefully exploited by Zetan society. Furthermore, the unusual conditions not just on Zeta-5, but also on other planets and planetoids within the Zeta system are rife with unexpected answers to scientific questions, allowing for some truly unique research opportunities.</sub>

History:
<sub>To the initial coloniers, flung onto a system with no other habital planets, Zeta-5 was a desperate attempt to preserve something, anything of humankind- to fling a lantern into the future. They could not possibly have predicted what their descendents would do. Zetans rose to the challenge with a startling fervour, and as they did so discarded the forms that humans had taken for so long. There are still some second and third generation Zetans walking about, three hundred years later, bodies and minds almost totally replaced by mechanical constructs. With bodies of steel, Zetans could emerge out of their previously subterranian dwellings and forge livings on the surface, where gradually the melding of flesh and metal would become more tempered, more careful, more deliberate.

Over the next few hundred years, Zetan society became more and more collective. Life was harsh, and one day's feast could easily be the next's famine. Helping your neighbours was common sense lest you need their help tomorrow. When combined with the necessity of biomechanical adaptations, it was only natural that the society that has formed since would come about.</sub>

Culture and Society:
_{(How do they live? Anything from ritual cannibals, to a surveillance state dystopia, to an integrated hivemind.)}

---

Governance and Politics:
<sub>The Consciousness operates through a form of direct democracy facilitated by their pseudo-hive mind. No individual is worth more than another, and all individuals are provided for, from cradle to their enlightenment out of physical bodies. Unlike most Old Earth direct democracies, the Consciousness can be highly efficient in its decisionmaking- the entirety of the Consciousness can make an educated decision on a matter simultaneously, and members of the Consciousness can petition the collective for even the smallest of matters, although it is unlikely they'll receive much feedback for truly trivial topics.

Furthermore, the Consciousness also has no one single 'leader.' Although there are figures of authority, individuals with specialist knowledge and expertise who lend their unique perspective to the colective, there is no 'hive queen,' and ultimately the consciousness acts like a flowing river- an obstacle in the path is flowed around or bulldozed through.</sub>

Technology Overview:
_{The Consciousness is a technological powerhouse, having made great strides in almost all fields of study. Of especial notes are Consciousness computing and biomechanical technology- although the birth of true artificial intelligence has frustrated Zetan scientists, increasingly sophisticated self-learning automata and a process of 'uploading' minds has not. Haecceity in these 'uploads' is maintained via the nanomechanical replacement of brain matter, molecule-by-molecule, and when the physical form finally fails, these minds can safely be transferred into the 'cloud' that is the Consciousness' collective, to be subsequently placed back into new bodies if they so desire.}

Military Overview:
_{The Consciousness' military is nonexistant. Although their technological expertise could lead to quite a formidable fighting force, their isolation and collective nature has rendered armed conflict larger than petty squabbles between individuals a thing of the past.}

---

Additional Info:
_{(Anything else you want to include that there isn't a spot for up there.)}

NaNoWriMo 2020

I’m such a pantser I pantsed joining NaNoWriMo. Nonetheless, here I am, hungover but with 300 words dunked into the basket. Good luck to everyone else; let’s crackalack!

The Wayward Stool (Open To Everyone, JUMP-INS WELCOME)

Following one sodden man came another. This one was not dressed in red, although the now-tranluscent white shirt he wore, along with the black waistcoat, trousers, very polished shoes and dripping wet fedora hat suggested that he had, indeed, been dressed for some sort of occasion prior to his current state. In one arm he held a hard case for a music instrument, in the other was clutched a now entirely soused slip of cardboard. He sighed heavily, reached up to the top of his head and let the rivulets of rain that had collected there spill down onto the ground, sweeping them back out the door with his foot. "Apologies for the mess," he would mutter, before looking around and processing the information that he was taking in.

Placing his instrument case against the ground, he patted his waistcoat down, as if searching for something, before pulling out a sleek stainless steel cigarette case. It flicked open with ease, the man drawing out a single hand-rolled white stick, placing it to his lips, and then extracting a match. Rubbing frantically at his trousers with his forearm, once it had been dried enough he would spark the match against the roughspun fabric, before touching the lit match to his ciagarette. Breathing in deeply, he let out a sigh, shaking out the match in a single smooth action.

Picking up his instrument case, he would head towards the bar, looking in faint amusement at the woman with the fancy suit and the other woman with the glowy robo-leg. "There a con in town or something? You guys put a lot of work into those costumes, huh." He would turn to the bartender, before noticing that another patron was smoking too.

"S'cuse me, mind if we share the ashtray? He let out what was supposed to be a winning smile, but in his drenched state was really more of a wilted grin, then turn to the bartender for good. "This is gonna seem a might bit weird what with this being a bar and all, but you guys have coffee? Doesn't have to be good, I promise you."

The Town of Exaster

Will the rp's focus be more on the resource management side of things and interaction with the NPCs of our lands, or do we get frequent chances to interact among player characters as well?

@Vertigo

The last time I attempted this RP the players had plenty of interaction- although they have different areas under their control, there's plenty of overlap that would allow for inter-pc discussions.

The Town of Exaster

The land of Bileth has been ravaged. The necromancer Borazum tore through the realm, indiscriminately slaughtering and killing. Towns and cities fell, the greatest holding on by the skin of their teeth, hiding behind consecrated walls. It took the rising up of five great adventurers- Eanril Argentblade, Vezz Darran, Iona Nially, Pellius the Wise and Dom Sevenstring to finally destroy Borazum's forces and return him to rest.

Now, a month on, the surviving towns are only now pulling themselves back together. You, adventuers of some renown through the realms, yet far from the power and glory of the now-vanished five, have all been sent a letter by the mayor of one of these surviving towns- Exaster.

He bids you to come to the town, settle there, protect it. In exchange, he offers you all tracts of land and wealth; enough for you to be called lords in your own right. Take the offer, he urges you, and return Exaster to its former glory. In a world rent and broken, you have the potential to bring some sense of order to the place.

---

---

To explain a little better what this campaign will be about, your characters will start as level eight adventurers in a campaign after the campaign, so to speak. The great threat of the ancient lich Borazum has been defeated, but the world has not simply gone back to being normal now that he has gone. Each of your characters has been offered tracts of land by the mayor of Exaster, and by taking him up on the offer you now go to administer to the town.

In this RP, combat will be a smaller focus. Instead, the conflict will come from how you manage the buildings and lands offered to you, and how this clashes with what others want. Perhaps your pleasant gardens will be frequented by thugs and ne'er-do-wells looking to lighten the purses of those visiting, or pirates are cutting off shipping to your docks. Maybe that new sawmill of yours has had a visit from a very peeved dryad... Or maybe someone's just stiffed you at a tavern and you want some petty revenge.

If you're interested in a more roleplay heavy campaign, then this might just be what you're looking for.

Warhammer 40k: It's A Wonderful Life! An Imperial Guard (40K) RP

He had been off of a planet. He had felt at home, at peace... But then he had discovered that as a guardsman, he couldn't just part ways and rejoin the crew, and that there were armsmen actively monitering him. Him! A voidsman himself by trade, being monitored by his own bred'ren to make sure he behaved and kept to the ship! Even when he had talked to them, tried to explain his situation, they had been hardened, turned away from him. So it was, that in grim dissapointment he had gone through the motions of military life, stirring his inner flame only to ensure it didn't die enirely.

But then it had been time to fight again. He had taken out his old shotgun and set to work. Cleaning out the barrel for the umpteenth time. Then he had slowly gone about fixing the elements to it. The stock, screwed in and secured. The foregrip, slid down and secured. Sight secured. He checked it, double checked it, triple checked it, and then took his lighter out, held it to the purity seal he had been handed by a red-robed man, then when the wax had melted just enough to become 'tacky,' he would press it against the side.

"Right den, machin bred'ren. We gon' be workin' together 'gain, so no funny business, eh?" That was as good as his machine spirit prayers got really. When the call had came to sit down in he gunship, he had followed without comment, wrapping first the bandana around his head, and then placing the helmet down, tightening the strap. He strapped his FUBAR to his backpack, slid his knife into its sheath, and then slung his gun over his shoulder, walking towards the dropship.

Once there, eyes darting about, he would remove his pack, strap himself in, and get ready for seeing a sky again. Looking towards the krieger, he would raise an eyebrow, shaking his head as he did so. He had quickly learned there was little to gain by asking him why he was so suicidal. "Would prefer t'be up 'ere directin' cannons den down on de ground, but, ifi gotta be doin' dis, den at least I be gettin' paid fi it."

Warhammer 40k: It's A Wonderful Life! An Imperial Guard (40K) RP

Talking to @Reia@CleanBreeze

---

Time for gambling. Time, for Voiddin. The rules of Voiddin were very, very simple- he made them up as he went along, under the guise of a simple card discarding game. The entire game, from top to bottom, was custom made for him to win (and to make out like a bandit with everyone's bets.) Flicking the cards out with a practised hand, he would explain the brief basics (play cards that were higher, lower, or the same, any suite,) before getting to work.

As he dealt out though, he noticed a large, burly shape on the edge of the campfire, holding up a card. "Ey there! Wha' you be doin' hidin' over there like? Playin' Voiddin', git here!" He flicked out a fresh set of cards for the newcomer (if he didn't end up playing he'd just fold them back into the draw pile,) crack his knuckles and get to work.

Alas though, he hardly had time to clear anyone's bets before his diminuitive Cadian translator was off like a shot, along with her bet. "Oi! Gi-" He cut himself off as he saw what spooked the trooper, gulping as he saw the distinctive uniform of a commissar crest the edge of the campfire. Placing the cards down on the table, he would quietly stuff his hands in his pocket.

Sure, he hadn't been on the surface for long, but he knew more than enough when it came to these particular scary-looking individuals. Paramilitary, right to execute at any time for any reason, could dish out punishments worse than any captain... Then, she stepped into the light and he was confused. Commissars were all black, this woman was in navy. His brain ticked over the information provided, until he came to the logical conclusion that this was not a commissar.

She was, in fact, an officer. Fingers crossed the cards wouldn't be confiscated then, he supposed.

Warhammer 40k: It's A Wonderful Life! An Imperial Guard (40K) RP

Talking to @Reia

---

No luck with the tribals understanding him... But hey, would you look at that, there was someone that did get his accent. "Wagwan sista!" The lho being stuck out towards him was especially nice, the man opening his mouth and plucking it straight out of her fingers. Raising a lighter to his lips, he would strike it alight instantly, breathing the smoke in nice and deep before letting it slowly trickle out of his nose. "Now dat be wha' I been lookin' for dis entire time, y'get me?" This woman seemed like something of a dream, if it wasn't for the fact that there was but one problem he had.

"And eh, sista, don't get mi wrong, 'preciate wha' y'been doing fi me, bu 'dirtyboy?'" He shook his head, the dreadlocks which were the exact reason he had been given such a name tumbling about his head. "Call me rudeboy if ya gotta use a nickname, else be calling me Telaci. Telaci vast." The lho-stick in his mouth jumped and bounced about with each word he spoke, but the next thing she said would quickly perk his interest. Mess kit and more lho sticks. He could take them, yes he could.

"Say, mess kit and the lhos. 'ow much you be wantin' fi dem? 'Can offer ya someathis." He would place one of the bottles he had so recently acquired down on the ground closer to her, before then remembering something. She was selling scrap metal, and hey- he had scrap metal as well. Just happened to come in a weird shape. With the booze and his medals combined, it was an easy deal, and he'd put his new mess kit down on the ground, and his new lhos in a pocket of his.

"Now, this be a good day, fi shure." From the same pocket he had put his lhos into he drew out a pack of cards, emptying them out into his hand and giving them a quick shuffle. "Y'be doin' a pretty good job o' translating mi talk, but one ting ya got wrong was wu 'Voiddin' is. Voiddin' ain't no spaceship, it be a game. A good one too. Anyone up fi a little bita gambling?" Down here? Planetside? Oh he was going to make a killing off of these sods.