@Denny
I strongly suggest we get another discord chat going.
The OoC chatter was half the fun sometimes. xD
It did build community. I can doctor up a server to serve as an unofficial replacement for the time being.
discord.gg/PjcBVQs
Gowi
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You should look at my new account, I think.
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It did build community. I can doctor up a server to serve as an unofficial replacement for the time being.
discord.gg/PjcBVQs
I will say that I’ll stick with the RP if Denny takes charge and keeps us moving as they actually know the direction of the RP and had a hand in its design.
Smith's Rest, New Anchorage | Convention Center
March 26th, 2677
The atmosphere in the conference hall had noticeably changed and after several back-and-forth conversations between Stein’s comrades and the audience she had come to one conclusion and one conclusion alone; this was nothing like Seattle’s press conferences. This wasn’t a line of questions given to the pilots by the corporate press. This was more akin to something she had read once as a child where the function was more of a banquet, where the main character was held up to give speeches and inspire the royal court; a sentiment that did not amuse her in the slightest. But this was not an optional affair and their commander had warned them about the dangers of the occasion in advance thus she knew to expect the worse. She understood it more clearly now that she saw some of the interviews take place and as gasps escaped the jaws of the ignorant and irrelevant.
A light sigh exited Stein’s lips as she prepared to stand up and move to the podium once Tahlia had finished and Celina had given the motion that it was her turn to address the crowd.
This is a waste of my time.
As she stood up, she continued to think about the situation in general as she had little more to do outside ignore everything, which in her experience would be the action of a coward or a fool; and she of course was neither. The concept of engaging the audience and talking to them as a show of confidence reminded her of something she had said to Alan Fouren during a discussion preceding the acceptance of the new pilots a few months ago—a fact that still represented her opinion on the matter.
It isn’t my job to inspire people, it is my job to meet expectations.
To Stein it was her responsibility to fly, not have pointless discourse with the locals. Not that her perspective mattered when those who paid for her services told her to do something. Stein was good at following orders and felt no apprehension on committing herself to doing them.
“Stein. I pilot the Little Dragon.”
A light sigh exited Stein’s lips as she prepared to stand up and move to the podium once Tahlia had finished and Celina had given the motion that it was her turn to address the crowd.
This is a waste of my time.
As she stood up, she continued to think about the situation in general as she had little more to do outside ignore everything, which in her experience would be the action of a coward or a fool; and she of course was neither. The concept of engaging the audience and talking to them as a show of confidence reminded her of something she had said to Alan Fouren during a discussion preceding the acceptance of the new pilots a few months ago—a fact that still represented her opinion on the matter.
It isn’t my job to inspire people, it is my job to meet expectations.
To Stein it was her responsibility to fly, not have pointless discourse with the locals. Not that her perspective mattered when those who paid for her services told her to do something. Stein was good at following orders and felt no apprehension on committing herself to doing them.
“Stein. I pilot the Little Dragon.”
Given the fact I was participating in this for the immense amount of work and passion Les put into it, I cannot say I would be confident in a similar RP with different leadership as it would be inevitably different. Unfortunately this means I have no interest in continuing despite the fact being that I would love to play the two characters I designed again.
My best guess is the server was somehow deleted if this is something that happened.
Cɪᴛʏ ᴏꜰ Tʜᴏʀɪɴ [Cɪᴛʏ Sᴛʀᴇᴇᴛs], Sᴏᴍᴇ Dᴀʏs Aɢᴏ
For most of Pariah’s denizens the City of Thorinn was one of the last of the major cities in the known kingdom, sitting on the edge of Thoros, the spiraling riverbed that made up the natural border between the unknown and civilization. Sitting as one of the several outposts that persisted on the edge of the nation that every man, woman, and child called home—The Kingdom of Aetheria. That said, despite Thorinn’s stature and status it wasn’t truthfully a place anyone could call small. That much was supported by the census office and their citation claiming that the city held an estimated population of one hundred and eighty thousand denizens in total.
But despite Thorinn’s capaciousness it did not afford it the absolute safety from the threats of the world at large outside of a comfortable shelter from the stray monster and usual collection of nomadic raiders and bandits. The city would most certainly have a challenging time defending itself had an abyssal or colossal creature made a venture out of destroying the city. And if a dungeon erupted from the earth nearby? The city would’ve needed dire help in that case. And as much as the residents of the kingdom didn’t like relying on the strangers from beyond the veil—those wayfarers, drifters, and outsiders had been the only ones to be able to stop the phenomena that had begun only a few months before their much needed appearance.
It would be fitting that in only a few days the people of Thorinn would realize this when a structure appeared nearby; standing suddenly in the forests that overlooked the city itself like a threatening beacon and declaration of war. It wouldn’t take long for monsters to start appearing. It would be up to the good will of the outsiders and the city’s Guild of Acquisitions to save them from a potential horde.
They had no other choice.
But despite Thorinn’s capaciousness it did not afford it the absolute safety from the threats of the world at large outside of a comfortable shelter from the stray monster and usual collection of nomadic raiders and bandits. The city would most certainly have a challenging time defending itself had an abyssal or colossal creature made a venture out of destroying the city. And if a dungeon erupted from the earth nearby? The city would’ve needed dire help in that case. And as much as the residents of the kingdom didn’t like relying on the strangers from beyond the veil—those wayfarers, drifters, and outsiders had been the only ones to be able to stop the phenomena that had begun only a few months before their much needed appearance.
It would be fitting that in only a few days the people of Thorinn would realize this when a structure appeared nearby; standing suddenly in the forests that overlooked the city itself like a threatening beacon and declaration of war. It wouldn’t take long for monsters to start appearing. It would be up to the good will of the outsiders and the city’s Guild of Acquisitions to save them from a potential horde.
They had no other choice.
Cɪᴛʏ ᴏꜰ Tʜᴏʀɪɴ [Cɪᴛʏ Sᴛʀᴇᴇᴛs], Pʀᴇsᴇɴᴛ Dᴀʏ, Mᴏʀɴɪɴɢ
Man, I hate coming to Thorinn. It’s such a boring shithole.
Rael xiel Vauxdvihl shuffled her hands in her longcoat’s pockets, an unimpressed frown present on her lips as she took her first steps into the city. It was no secret that she wasn’t a fan of Thorinn and the city (or more accurate, it’s residents) didn’t care for the red-haired collector. But she had never done anything illegal so it wasn’t like she was going to have a problem walking through the streets and even if she had it was no secret with the appearance of a dungeon that her presence was needed—but then again there were plenty other “outsiders” who could’ve joined the fray.
As she walked forward, the red-haired woman tried to remember the specifics of the design of the city; which roads led to where and what the important places of interest generally were. Presuming her memory was being useful for once and serving her well, Rael recalled that the city’s guild of acquisitions was to the left of the town square, next to her favorite innhouse and tavern, The Lying Wolverine—which possibly was the only place in Thorinn that she liked and didn’t receive the impression she wasn’t wanted.
You pawn off something sacred and everyone thinks you are literally a demon, I swear. Bunch of Drox-affiliated crybabies.
Rael continued down the road, passing by a small market vendor selling off assorted fruit, wondering who exactly was taking lead in terms of her fellow “outsiders” on this to-be dungeon raid. She hoped it wasn’t anyone that was a pain in her ass.
Rael xiel Vauxdvihl shuffled her hands in her longcoat’s pockets, an unimpressed frown present on her lips as she took her first steps into the city. It was no secret that she wasn’t a fan of Thorinn and the city (or more accurate, it’s residents) didn’t care for the red-haired collector. But she had never done anything illegal so it wasn’t like she was going to have a problem walking through the streets and even if she had it was no secret with the appearance of a dungeon that her presence was needed—but then again there were plenty other “outsiders” who could’ve joined the fray.
As she walked forward, the red-haired woman tried to remember the specifics of the design of the city; which roads led to where and what the important places of interest generally were. Presuming her memory was being useful for once and serving her well, Rael recalled that the city’s guild of acquisitions was to the left of the town square, next to her favorite innhouse and tavern, The Lying Wolverine—which possibly was the only place in Thorinn that she liked and didn’t receive the impression she wasn’t wanted.
You pawn off something sacred and everyone thinks you are literally a demon, I swear. Bunch of Drox-affiliated crybabies.
Rael continued down the road, passing by a small market vendor selling off assorted fruit, wondering who exactly was taking lead in terms of her fellow “outsiders” on this to-be dungeon raid. She hoped it wasn’t anyone that was a pain in her ass.
Pariah Online Headquarters [Mᴀɪɴ Sᴇʀᴠᴇʀ Rᴏᴏᴍ], Sᴏᴍᴇ Dᴀʏs Aɢᴏ
“Should we tell them?”
There was a quiet unease that could be felt in the server room, a long pause emanating between the towering shadows of the computer servers and the administrators who had been sent in to investigate the anomalies in the system—anomalies that would have far-reaching consequences that the company at large was not prepared for. In short, the company that provided a unique virtual reality experience for the general public for a whole year without any major issues had suddenly run into an error that could’ve brought attention to them in the form of litigation and financial ruin. This concern being that the players that were currently logged into Pariah Online were at serious risk in that the integrity of their safety had been compromised; compromised to the point of actual risk of death beyond the simulation.
It was every virtual reality designer’s worst nightmare.
“They deserve to know.”
The other administrator looked to his ‘partner’, a scowl forming on his lips. “Do you want to cause a panic?”
The idea to inform the active playerbase that they could lose their lives if they perished in the game was a double-edged sword; but really, both administrators knew that even if they didn’t tell them they would find out as soon as their healing wards no longer worked on reviving their comrades. It was the kind of scenario that was a legitimate horror movie to the people inside the company and those who had invested into the innovative experiment in the first place. Pariah couldn’t fail—too much money had been put into it and not enough money had been made off it. If the efforts of the administrative team failed to locate an issue and solve it, both of the two people in the server room knew it would be them, not the board, who would be the fall guy for the colossal breach in public safety and trust. It would be them who would be offered up to the proverbial guillotine.
“We’re going to have a panic if we don’t.”
There was another pause.
“I am aware.”
There was a quiet unease that could be felt in the server room, a long pause emanating between the towering shadows of the computer servers and the administrators who had been sent in to investigate the anomalies in the system—anomalies that would have far-reaching consequences that the company at large was not prepared for. In short, the company that provided a unique virtual reality experience for the general public for a whole year without any major issues had suddenly run into an error that could’ve brought attention to them in the form of litigation and financial ruin. This concern being that the players that were currently logged into Pariah Online were at serious risk in that the integrity of their safety had been compromised; compromised to the point of actual risk of death beyond the simulation.
It was every virtual reality designer’s worst nightmare.
“They deserve to know.”
The other administrator looked to his ‘partner’, a scowl forming on his lips. “Do you want to cause a panic?”
The idea to inform the active playerbase that they could lose their lives if they perished in the game was a double-edged sword; but really, both administrators knew that even if they didn’t tell them they would find out as soon as their healing wards no longer worked on reviving their comrades. It was the kind of scenario that was a legitimate horror movie to the people inside the company and those who had invested into the innovative experiment in the first place. Pariah couldn’t fail—too much money had been put into it and not enough money had been made off it. If the efforts of the administrative team failed to locate an issue and solve it, both of the two people in the server room knew it would be them, not the board, who would be the fall guy for the colossal breach in public safety and trust. It would be them who would be offered up to the proverbial guillotine.
“We’re going to have a panic if we don’t.”
There was another pause.
“I am aware.”
Just read your first post, and it’s a pretty good start outside of some blurbs in the tense department. That said, how do you want me to incorporate into this—playing the homicide detective who arrives on the scene once Officer Callum reports it in? Right now it seems like a decent opening, but I’m unsure of how you want the scene to be interacted with.
Smith's Rest, New Anchorage | Convention Center
March 26th, 2677
Harrison Kane wasn’t particularly well-versed in press conferences but he knew that this smelled rotten from the start, he didn’t need Commander Graham’s warning. After working the independent circuit and being a corporate pawn Kane had acquired a certain level of wisdom regarding the politics of being a neural combatant. He had seen it before in settlement leaders, corporate executives, raider retinues, and independent ministers—every single one of them were posturing and planning. But what was the plan here? To give the public an honest look at the people who were defending them after a brutal attack? It might’ve been cynical to distrust a person he had never met before but for Kane it was his instinct.
An instinct that strengthened as the crowd went silent after Kathryn Dradht told the truth, Percy Moore fled from the stage, and Madison Cole broke down in front of him. It was a vicious spectacle in his eyes and it made his stomach turn in apprehension. In silent contemplation he took a drink of the liquid from his flask, the golden brown liquid running down his throat as he didn’t even shoot a glance towards the podium. He didn’t need to see the expressions on anyone’s face — he knew enough from the uttered gasps and murmurs. The newly elected minister’s voice appeared sympathetic as Madison began to stammer and doubt herself in front of an entire audience; a reaction that made him ball his left hand into a fist underneath the table.
Typical. Don’t act like you care, you damned fink.
The thought aside, he knew very well it was his time to be “interviewed” despite thinking it was a categorically terrible idea. He took a light sigh as he placed his flask in its slot on his utility belt before he straightened the collar of his jacket before moving forward to the podium as Madison returned to her seat. In his mind, the sooner he dealt with this the quicker it was done.
“Harrison Kane. I fly the Liberator.”
Kane stood at the podium, calm yet equally aloof — he wasn’t about to pretend to be a soldier in front of the people of New Anchorage. They deserved the truth and as a person there was little that he even wanted to withhold at this point in his career. He had done enough lying in the last few years of his life and on top of that he had made a promise to someone that he would never lie to save face again. If people asked him a question, he was going to tell them the truth even if the consequences didn’t suit him. That said, Kane knew this public interview was going to throw many questions his way and the public at large weren’t going to like the truth. He had Ryn’s back-and-forth a few minutes ago to prove that much.
His eyes moved to a woman who perched her hand—the first of his interrogators. “Who did you fly for before you came to New Anchorage?”
His brows narrowed — he was expecting a question like where he was from or something equally as simple but it seemed they wanted to jump right to the larger questions. He had no intention to hide things from his new employers but the person in charge had already read his dossier and put him through a physical and psychological exam. But this wasn’t his employer; these were people who might’ve not even known how to read and just wanted assurance. Every instinct told him to be vague rather than spell everything out.
“I worked independently for most of my life — it wasn’t until a few years ago that I was forced into the employment of the Fairbanks Corporation.”
The red-haired man could feel a chill climb up his spine as he mentioned his time with Fairbanks, a chill that was accompanied by a terrible anger in his stomach and memories he was trying to run away from. He could hear the echoes from his past as a reminder of what the consequences for trusting people in power were. His hand moved into his longcoat for the pack of pre-war cigarettes he kept for moments of anxiety and dread.
“Forced?”
He moved a single cigarette to his lips followed by a lighter—it wasn’t worth asking if it was okay for him to do so. As he exhaled a small amount of smoke, he nodded. “That’s right. You might not know this out here in the tundra, but the corporations operate in many different ways and one of those ways is finding a way for you to work for them. For me, I had a family—a wife, a daughter. To the corporations they were incentive and once they had them they had me. That’s when I started to do missions for them, off the record.”
He took another hit from the piece of lit tobacco—he could still hear his daughter’s screams when they slit his wife’s throat in front of both of them. Another hand rose from the audience, this time from a man in the crowd who appeared a little younger than him.
“How long did you work for Fairbanks? What kind of work did you do off the record?”
I killed innocent people.
It didn’t take a genius to follow the trail to where it ended, but Kane didn’t think less of any of the people for asking for elaboration. They were curious and concerned — albeit naively so. He had promised to never forget about what happened and why it happened, even if doing so caused him to suffer through vivid nightmares. But was this man’s curiosity good enough reason to share the brutality of what he had lived through? The brutality of what his family didn’t?
“Do you really want to know? I ask because it’s not a pretty picture. They killed my wife because I refused an order, broke my daughter’s fingers because I was working “under performance”, and beat me until I was compliant. I’ve killed people who didn’t deserve it, all because they had me on a leash. The atrocities I was forced to do are not ones I will do ever again; I’d sooner refuse a command and face consequence then have that on my conscience.”
There were gasps and murmurs after he replied as he did—he expected it. They needed assurance.
“As far as I know, I’m still here. Fighting for the liberty of everyone who deserves it. There are enough ghosts that follow me. My time at Fairbanks was not my choice, but I refuse to lie to any of you on what I did. I tell you this because you need to understand who you hired in full transparency.”
“New Anchorage appreciates your honesty, Mister Kane. Next?”
An instinct that strengthened as the crowd went silent after Kathryn Dradht told the truth, Percy Moore fled from the stage, and Madison Cole broke down in front of him. It was a vicious spectacle in his eyes and it made his stomach turn in apprehension. In silent contemplation he took a drink of the liquid from his flask, the golden brown liquid running down his throat as he didn’t even shoot a glance towards the podium. He didn’t need to see the expressions on anyone’s face — he knew enough from the uttered gasps and murmurs. The newly elected minister’s voice appeared sympathetic as Madison began to stammer and doubt herself in front of an entire audience; a reaction that made him ball his left hand into a fist underneath the table.
Typical. Don’t act like you care, you damned fink.
The thought aside, he knew very well it was his time to be “interviewed” despite thinking it was a categorically terrible idea. He took a light sigh as he placed his flask in its slot on his utility belt before he straightened the collar of his jacket before moving forward to the podium as Madison returned to her seat. In his mind, the sooner he dealt with this the quicker it was done.
“Harrison Kane. I fly the Liberator.”
Kane stood at the podium, calm yet equally aloof — he wasn’t about to pretend to be a soldier in front of the people of New Anchorage. They deserved the truth and as a person there was little that he even wanted to withhold at this point in his career. He had done enough lying in the last few years of his life and on top of that he had made a promise to someone that he would never lie to save face again. If people asked him a question, he was going to tell them the truth even if the consequences didn’t suit him. That said, Kane knew this public interview was going to throw many questions his way and the public at large weren’t going to like the truth. He had Ryn’s back-and-forth a few minutes ago to prove that much.
His eyes moved to a woman who perched her hand—the first of his interrogators. “Who did you fly for before you came to New Anchorage?”
His brows narrowed — he was expecting a question like where he was from or something equally as simple but it seemed they wanted to jump right to the larger questions. He had no intention to hide things from his new employers but the person in charge had already read his dossier and put him through a physical and psychological exam. But this wasn’t his employer; these were people who might’ve not even known how to read and just wanted assurance. Every instinct told him to be vague rather than spell everything out.
“I worked independently for most of my life — it wasn’t until a few years ago that I was forced into the employment of the Fairbanks Corporation.”
The red-haired man could feel a chill climb up his spine as he mentioned his time with Fairbanks, a chill that was accompanied by a terrible anger in his stomach and memories he was trying to run away from. He could hear the echoes from his past as a reminder of what the consequences for trusting people in power were. His hand moved into his longcoat for the pack of pre-war cigarettes he kept for moments of anxiety and dread.
“Forced?”
He moved a single cigarette to his lips followed by a lighter—it wasn’t worth asking if it was okay for him to do so. As he exhaled a small amount of smoke, he nodded. “That’s right. You might not know this out here in the tundra, but the corporations operate in many different ways and one of those ways is finding a way for you to work for them. For me, I had a family—a wife, a daughter. To the corporations they were incentive and once they had them they had me. That’s when I started to do missions for them, off the record.”
He took another hit from the piece of lit tobacco—he could still hear his daughter’s screams when they slit his wife’s throat in front of both of them. Another hand rose from the audience, this time from a man in the crowd who appeared a little younger than him.
“How long did you work for Fairbanks? What kind of work did you do off the record?”
I killed innocent people.
It didn’t take a genius to follow the trail to where it ended, but Kane didn’t think less of any of the people for asking for elaboration. They were curious and concerned — albeit naively so. He had promised to never forget about what happened and why it happened, even if doing so caused him to suffer through vivid nightmares. But was this man’s curiosity good enough reason to share the brutality of what he had lived through? The brutality of what his family didn’t?
“Do you really want to know? I ask because it’s not a pretty picture. They killed my wife because I refused an order, broke my daughter’s fingers because I was working “under performance”, and beat me until I was compliant. I’ve killed people who didn’t deserve it, all because they had me on a leash. The atrocities I was forced to do are not ones I will do ever again; I’d sooner refuse a command and face consequence then have that on my conscience.”
There were gasps and murmurs after he replied as he did—he expected it. They needed assurance.
“As far as I know, I’m still here. Fighting for the liberty of everyone who deserves it. There are enough ghosts that follow me. My time at Fairbanks was not my choice, but I refuse to lie to any of you on what I did. I tell you this because you need to understand who you hired in full transparency.”
“New Anchorage appreciates your honesty, Mister Kane. Next?”
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