Avatar of Jeep Wrangler
  • Last Seen: 11 days ago
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    1. Jeep Wrangler 2 yrs ago
    2. ████████████ 10 yrs ago

Status

Recent Statuses

2 yrs ago
Current Do what I do and write two novels and then have like 4 people read them B)
1 like
2 yrs ago
We've got a certified "Bozo Down" today
2 yrs ago
Also why's everyone getting so pressed about writing perspectives like dude just go write a book lol
3 likes
2 yrs ago
Might want to pick it back up before I put it in my wallet
2 yrs ago
40k fans are like the "Can he beat Goku" guys of Science Fiction
1 like

Bio

Literally 1984 by Jorjor Well

Most Recent Posts

<Snipped quote by Inkarnate>

A boulder turned my parents and our bookstore into a flat pancake.


I'd be worried if it wasn't a flat pancake
Salt killed my parents.


I don't like salt. It's coarse, rough and I put it all on my food.
I dream of Sominium fields.


I read that as Sodium Fields and cannot unsee it.








Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to a bit of an old rebooted RP scenario. Here, @wolverbells and I are hoping to bring a different adaptation to the former's original many years back, providing a bit of an open-ended placement for characters, stories and involvement within a greater story, all whilst manifesting your own individual storylines between it all. It's worth mentioning right from the beginning that this is not related to the canonical storyline or presentation of Attack on Titan, meaning that there will be some large differences, changes to timelines, potential alterations to the lore and situation. In saying that, it shouldn't deviate too strongly from its source material, of course. The Western Siege scenario is a semi-open territorial reclamation tale of horror, death and struggle all in the face of a ruthless, unspeakable threat that lurks both outside and within the safety of humanity's impassable defences. What follows is the collapse of stability, a surge of violence and the forthcoming of Death's subordinates. Take up the ranks of Humanity's skilled, though outmatched, military and attempt to bring peace at the expense of hundreds of thousands of lives. Be on the frontlines, hold the rear guard and maintain the little hope mankind has for the future as the battle for survival comes right to the Western doorstep.

There is one major thing that any interested players will have to discuss and express preference towards: what starting situation should we begin with? As of yet, the two that make the most sense are from within the starting days of the Trainee Corps or jumping straight into the first days of regular military service amongst one of the three branches. Note - all three branches are acceptable in this story. Though it runs the risk of potentially spreading yourselves too thin on paper, our ability to cast our own missions and not be driven entirely by a GM's set rules of engagement means a plethora of scenarios can open up between the Survey Corps, Stationary Guard or Military Police. This plays into the semi-openness of the RP, where missions can be forged by the players themselves at many points of the story. At times, there may be a limit to player-curated missions in order to advance a much larger, overarching storyline. This will mainly focus on the tide of Humanity's downfall or comeback in relation to what people have decided to do through their character's actions. Whether they go out on expeditions as the Survey Corps, defend high valued targets with the Stationary Guard or pursue deserting soldiers and fanatics under the banner of the Military Police, there is a lot of room for general experimentation.

Another point I really want to stress is that this isn't a story of main characters becoming the centrifugal point to all that exists in this world. This is a story about humanity's struggle, not just your character's struggle. That being said, that doesn't restrict you from partaking in major events at all, I just wanted to highlight how everything won't revolve around who we play and how powerful they'll be or become. Speaking of characters, the aim is also to have just as much of a focus on out-of-combat interactions, character developments, side plots and relationship arcs as you see fit. I'd love to see how your characters change overtime, whether they begin confident and descend into madness, grow into inspiring figures amongst their allies or simply blend into the crowd as an unnamed body taking part in the greatest struggle since the Titans first appeared. There will be chances to go on long operations, ones that take you outside of the walls and into the vast plains and fields in-between the districts. All whilst this is going on, your characters will be able to interact, build upon and work alongside, or against, other players and any NPCs you see fit.

Personally, I'm hopeful to bring out the horror and futility of the situation through these characters, though the situation itself isn't futile unless we deem it. Characters will have to go through a lot to garner the best results and the reclamation of primarily the Western regions of Walls Rose, Maria and Sheena. There are chances to go to the other regions, such as the more infamous southern regions and unseen northern and eastern respectively. Alongside this, locations designed for your characters stories and missions are going to be acceptable within reason, adding an extra layer of freedom to how those missions take place.

As far as things go for now, there won't be any inclusion of shifters, more so player-based, and if they become a part of the story it will be further down the line. All things considered, I hope the idea itself appeals to you and that if you are interested, do feel free to drop any suggestions, thoughts and ideas below! I'll work on the OOC as soon as we get some interest and then we can use our extensively growing free time to bring this to life! Thanks for reading and don't be afraid to ask any questions that you might have!
@chaosmaidenWelcome back! Always a good thing to see returning golden oldies!
Dropped a bit of a laid back post, have left Will in an open space for interaction if anyone wants to jump on that



The Stadium




Click. The lights flickered out and William's little test began in the depths of the R&D facility. A few eyes pried upon him, namely more those of experienced engineers once again running the same diagnostics they'd been maintaining the last year or so. His hands worked tenderly, taking in the each moment he held. His eye was flurried with a wave of vision, scanning behind the walls and containers around him. The test? Locating a few objects to assemble a crude mock explosive. The outcome? Well distinguishing the specific small parts he needed in the seas of many others proved challenging. Every three seconds another burst from his sonar would update him once more, though the fact his targets weren't moving, mobile or sentient made the tension only lay upon the timer ticking away. Every now and then he'd fumble, or nearly lose his grip on a small pair of tweezers in the moment of construction. He knew that there wasn't enough time to properly assemble it, nor was he sure of why they'd set up the specific test like so. The likelihood of him actually assembling something in the middle of a battlefield as near to none, and the UHF-SON-2 was not some sort of searchlight for construction tools. In the end, the test concluded and the results were gathered. Poorly satisfied faces shook their heads, flashing the lights back on. William squinted, turning off his headgear and trying to adjust his eyesight to the undeniably large shift in luminosity.

The following conversation was tiresome, easily defined by boredom and incoherence. Since William had departed from the R&D Team the year prior, he'd been granted a replacement official to accompany the development of the SON-2. Though a people's person, it was an unavoidable temptation to refuse their access to the gear itself. Whoever had stepped in was previously more akin to larger devices, ones that were designed to directly change the frontline situation of CQC Operations. But the SON-2...that was different; a subtlety to the shape of the shadowy battlefield they were going to rage war across. Yet, segregating his own partners from his gear like a selfish child would've made no amends with SIX, and so compliance was only natural. The new guy wanted to run every kind of test he thought was relevant, indirectly leading to several obscure testing environments like the one he'd committed to that day. It didn't anger William, only irritate. Irritation was something he could've worked with.

He'd been living on-base for as long as it had been active. RAINBOW's little tightly knitted confinement had been his primary home, one where he barely recognised what it was like to be back in England. It was also something that tested what it was like to be static, settled down with some sort of partner in a small village, town or city. The military life had consumed that little daydream, making it apparent that he was to conclude his service before he could have ever found something sweet to kindle. After yet another talking down to by his replacement engineer, William was granted a dismissal, letting him walk back to the lockers and strip himself of his headgear. Keeping it safe behind lock and key at least put his mind to rest. There were three models of the UHF-SON-2, all separated in the event of an emergency where one would be destroyed or captured. It was a precious little thing for William, a brief reminder of the hours of testing he did with Michael. Those were days that were surely going to be missed.

Recently, a lot of newer operators had joined the ranks of RAINBOW, none of which William had particularly gotten to know yet. He wanted to, of course, but it wasn't exactly a cakewalk to approach the ranks of skilled, grizzled or elegant warriors that were to be by his side throughout the globalised threat. He'd seen a few lurking around the base in his free time, but most of them were always training, so he suspected. It was hard to catch another operator off-duty at a similar time, especially considering the erratic and wild variations in training each one subjected themselves to. Some focused on the basics - firearms, athletics and endurance - whilst others took to specialist routes to further hone their set of skills. William usually was clumped into the latter, usually keeping his basic training for the earliest hours of the morning. It wasn't the healthiest lifestyle, not by a longshot, but it was enough to meet the demands of his career.

With the global situation growing in tension, it was harder for William to contact Michael, and when they did it was strictly prohibited to discuss RAINBOW's affairs. Understandable, of course. William had no suspicions of his brother, but he did suspect only a few backlogs could be encrypted and tucked away from the threat that stalked them. RAINBOW's deployment against the new threat was minimal, however, giving them the basic advantage of being beneath the radar. Intelligence was always on the prowl of any direct hacks, spies or whatever, granting that extra safety net for the Operators to fall on.

Without any plans for the next few hours, he filled up a bottle at any nearby water fountain and made his way outside, taking in the sunlit exhaustion of the exterior world. William strode across the pathways, nodding to the few consistent members of RAINBOW that he recognised. There, he sat down on a lonesome bench and took a large swig from his bottle. Its refreshing sustenance trickled down his throat and spilt slightly on his collar, before he let his head droop backwards over the backrest of the bench. To say he was tired was a slight understatement, but it wasn't anything life threatening or perpetrating to the line of work. He waited there, unsure of anyone else wanted to use the bench for any other purpose. Perhaps the solitude was a good break from the usual bustle of being on duty. And with his years behind enemy lines, involvement in large scale operations and raids on terrorist cells, he found the sweetest and most personal moments like those to be the highlight of what made life worth living.






The wait was long and quiet. Even with the passing of Hueys and F-162s higher up in the humid stained air only a silent mumble could be heard not too far away. To avoid dwelling upon the blackened thoughts he'd been accustomed towards, he tapped the table with his fingers, creating an additional ambience to surround and shroud himself in. Managing his thoughts was important. Every second that he let his mind trail into that unforgiving darkness was another second closer to insanity. Lucas couldn't even tell if he was already insane. He'd become acquainted with the war, the death and the violence that had been brought into his daily life. Death was around every conceivable corner with disease and murder holding closely onto his collar. In the frantic heat of his dissonance, he swore beneath his breath and felt his hands scavenge around the gear he'd laid out for their new arrival. A flak vest and helmet, something that was intended to keep the correspondent safe. That was the idea of it. It was more of an environmental protection, maybe something to dampen any nearby explosives as well. Chances of her surviving any sort of direct impact was minimal at best. Hell, he hadn't even thought about who this journalist truly was outside of her name and her career. After a while he began to fiddle with a firearm laid upon the table. It was there purely for the photographic aesthetic she may have wanted upon arrival, all neatly kept and assembled as if it were ready to kill. All that was missing was the addition of a human hand to pull its trigger.

Eventually, his lonesome voyage into procrastination was finally put to rest when she walked into the tent. Ms. Ward, striding in with a full load of confidence empowering her entrance. A sudden flash of brightness entered the loosely held-together room he resided within. It was indeed a luminosity he hadn't seen in well over a year, maybe even two. A pure, crystal whiteness from her blouse, topped with the alienated addition of makeup, tore his expectations in two. In the seas of green foliage, orange sunsets, fiery yellow napalm strikes and brown flickers of mud, blended with a final topping of crimson blood, her attire was more than a refreshing contribution to the day, maybe even the year. None of the people in Saigon came as close, though he didn't expect them to. It was as if Mother America herself had just came to remind the world what nation they came from, and how incredibly pointless it was for them to fight a war in a nation so separated by culture, ideology and style. Well, at the end of it all the spread of Communism was their final goal, wasn't it?

Lucas found himself returning the smile to hers, albeit a little less perfectly and with a rugged complexion struck with fatigue. She was seemingly tired too. Those clear marks of irregular travel must have taken a large toll on the usual sleeping hours, something she'd have to get used to. Originally, Lucas pictured a military fatigued, weapons trained fighter with a camera, but the idea of someone straight out of the newspapers was almost too hilarious to be true. It wasn't that he minded her sudden presence. After all, he needed to freshness of newly untainted faces to differentiate the war from the world he'd left behind.


"I'll tell you what, this was not the kind of correspondent I was expecting, not that I'm against it." Through his faint grin he extended his own hand, at least the cleanest one, and returned the friendly gesture with a small ounce of respect for her confidence. In reality though, he knew a cocky reporter with an attitude like that was only days away from getting her head placed on some shit-stained punji spike. After their soft, tender shake was concluded, he looked back at his hand, suddenly feeling the rush of a freshly dressed citizen arriving within his presence. He hadn't seen a single American not dressed for war or war-based business. This...this was something new, to say the least. "Nice to meet you, Cynthia. Would say I'm glad that you're here to follow and document my Squad's journey, as well as whatever else you find, but you know...you're going to hate it here."

He laughed to himself, before turning around and pointing towards the tables and chairs left barely arranged. Atop of the wooden counter was her new gear, coated in a layer of bagging to keep it clean. There wasn't much point in doing so considering how easy it was for clothing to stain red, but perhaps it was simply made for the kind gesture towards their sweetheart guest. Either way, Lucas still had a bad feeling about her arrival.

"So...New York Times, huh? I probably have read some of your work a few times then, not that I can name any of it." He made small conversation with her, at least hoping to prove to himself that he was as capable of conversing with the Western world as he remembered. If things were okay between them then maybe, just maybe, he could go home someday and face society again. Until he could confirm that, he retained his killer instinct and peered outside of the tent several times, knowing that keeping his eyes off of his surroundings at any moment would bring nothing but fear and confusion if something did break out. He hoped she didn't notice his anxious spying of the exterior world, not that it wasn't subtle at all. "That's some lovely clothing though, but I hope it's not from your best wardrobe. The shit here sticks to you. Either way, here's some of your gear. Feel free to take any pictures you want, I guess. And...well I guess I'll be here for the next while. I can introduce you to the rest of the Squad if you really want, or what's left of them. I won't keep you too long though, you'll need your beauty sleep ey? Especially with what we're doing tomorrow."

I'll likely work up a post in the coming day or two. Been itching to write!
<Snipped quote by LetMeDoStuff>

I just sent him a PM suggesting the Royal Marines; 42 Commando and Commando 21. Each battalion has a recon troop (platoon) and each of those two platoons have snipers; probably 3 or 4 sniper teams.


Yeah 42 Commando makes a lot of sense, considering their composition. He can bond with our boy Sonar over the RMS days
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