Lady Selune

The Ward

The silence was deafening. When Cassidy's words had finished echoing, the group would be left in silence for a good few seconds, until from somewhere below them the groan of old metal would rumble out. The Borehole was clearly not the most stable of constructions. Torches swept through the gloom, disturbing only dust and long-rusted desks. Had this been an office complex? Or, more disturbingly, an educational facility? Who could tell? Past these, where the lines ran off to, there was a sign. B2. The blue line had encircled it, and then pressed on, forking off in a hallway and darting away both directions.

Neither of which looked particularly promising.

For a start, the entire area was pitch black, barring a single small spot where a thin light streamed down from some unknown location. Underneath this spotlight, a black, withered mossy plant had eked out a living, eating away at whatever scraps it could scour from the dust and dirt that lay in the decaying facility. A torch shone down that direction would show several more doorways and then another fork far at the end, whereas the other direction revealed itself to have but two. A choice would have to be made.

cancelled

I have discovered a genuinely fantastic fact. During the Vietnam War, US Army Intelligence made a tape of spooky ghost noises to try to scare VC.

cancelled

Lou Freeman

One pill makes you larger... And one pill makes you small... And the ones that mother gives you... Don't do anything at all...

Louis 'Lou' Freeman

Age: 22

Place of Birth: Chicago, Illinois

Physical Description: Lou is a tall and well-built man, standing at approximately five foot eleven. He's obviously muscular, which assists when moving around his heavier weapon. He keeps himself as clean shaven as possible, and his hair is shaved close for practical reasons.

Squad Role: Automatic Rifleman

Rank: Specialist (E-4)

Equipment:

• M60 General Purpose Machinegun
• Smith and Wesson Model 10 Revolver
• Standard issue tactical knife
• M26 grenades
• A faded picture of six people, Lou included, standing in front of a store
• A deck of playing cards- one of the jokers has a bullet hole through it
• A zippo lighter with 'I KNOW I'M GOING TO HEAVEN, 'CAUSE I'VE ALREADY SERVED IN HELL' engraved on one side, and on the other 'RIP MLK: AIN'T NO CHARLIE CALLED ME A N*****.'

Skills: Equipment maintenance: Lou went to a vocational college as a mechanic, and thus is fairly proficient when it comes to the workings of machines. He knows which screws to tighten, which coils to realign, and what switches to flick to get a radio chattering again, and he's one of the fastest in the battalion at stripping his M60.

Inured: This is Lou's third tour in Vietnam. A lot of what might shake an FNG will bounce off of Lou... Or would do, were it not for a very noticeable flaw of his.

Flaws: Addicted: Lou has turned to drugs hard in his time in 'Nam. Mostly cannabis, but also LSD and Mescaline. Although he's not a smackhead, he's certainly dabbled with harder drugs.

Dismissive: Lou is extremely dismissive towards anyone he regards as an FNG, and for a man on his third tour, that's almost everyone. Firmly believing himself to be the only one that knows how to survive the jungles, he frequently chafes against others, especially those officers that he sees as issuing suicidal orders.

Fears: Lou would like to put up a front of an unshakeable veteran, but the truth of the matter is that he's a wreck, held together by psychoactives, nicotine, and coffee. Being doped up only lets you run a little faster from your problems, not escape them, and every time he sleeps sees him swirl back down a whirlpool of nightmares.

Personality: Lou may be an ox of a man, but it's clear not all the lights are on upstairs. His eyes have a deadened quality to them, and he tends to stare through people rather than at them. His world has become a never-ending haze of gunfire, death and mud, and he's lost more friends than he cares to count. Lou tries not to get too close to anyone else in his squad, knowing that each day could be his (or their) last, and instead looks out for himself first, and follows orders second. Nonetheless, as his helmet attests to, he's not a slack on the combat front, and his M60 has barked out death for more than a dozen Charlies.

Personal History: As a young black man growing up in Chicago, Lou faced many of the same issues that any number of inner city minority kids did. From discriminatory schooling and housing to gang violence, Lou grew up with a family that was desperately trying to claw their way a little further up the social ladder. Doing his homework through the light of a shattered window, he started to harden up- getting into fights, committing petty crimes and shunning his elders, until something changed when the young man ended up talking to members of the NAACP Youth Wing. Realising that he might have a change at enacting real reform, Lou went through a remarkable change himself.

Participating in sit ins, protests and marches, Lou was never going to volunteer for the war. Although as he had grown up his parents had finally managed to land themselves a small store in inner city Chicago, they were hardly rich, and his options to draft dodge were slim to none. He was called to the war in 1967, much to his chagrin, and spent his first tour coming to terms with the hell that was Vietnam. Then, he came back the next year, after he thought he had escaped. Now, he approaches his third tour with quiet, bitter, exhausted resentment. Vietnam is a meatgrinder, and he can't keep escaping the teeth of the machine.

cancelled

@Heat

Woo! Definitely one of the Fortunate Ones here :)

cancelled

Lou Freeman

One pill makes you larger... And one pill makes you small... And the ones that mother gives you... Don't do anything at all...

Louis 'Lou' Freeman

Age: 22

Place of Birth: Chicago, Illinois

Physical Description: Lou is a tall and well-built man, standing at approximately five foot eleven. He's obviously muscular, which assists when moving around his heavier weapon. He keeps himself as clean shaven as possible, and his hair is shaved close for practical reasons.

Squad Role: Automatic Rifleman

Rank: Specialist (E-4)

Equipment:

• M60 General Purpose Machinegun
• Smith and Wesson Model 10 Revolver
• Standard issue tactical knife
• M26 grenades
• A faded picture of six people, Lou included, standing in front of a store
• A deck of playing cards- one of the jokers has a bullet hole through it
• A zippo lighter with 'I KNOW I'M GOING TO HEAVEN, 'CAUSE I'VE ALREADY SERVED IN HELL' engraved on one side, and on the other 'RIP MLK: AIN'T NO CHARLIE CALLED ME A N*****.'

Skills: Equipment maintenance: Lou went to a vocational college as a mechanic, and thus is fairly proficient when it comes to the workings of machines. He knows which screws to tighten, which coils to realign, and what switches to flick to get a radio chattering again, and he's one of the fastest in the battalion at stripping his M60.

Inured: This is Lou's third tour in Vietnam. A lot of what might shake an FNG will bounce off of Lou... Or would do, were it not for a very noticeable flaw of his.

Flaws: Addicted: Lou has turned to drugs hard in his time in 'Nam. Mostly cannabis, but also LSD and Mescaline. Although he's not a smackhead, he's certainly dabbled with harder drugs.

Dismissive: Lou is extremely dismissive towards anyone he regards as an FNG, and for a man on his third tour, that's almost everyone. Firmly believing himself to be the only one that knows how to survive the jungles, he frequently chafes against others, especially those officers that he sees as issuing suicidal orders.

Fears: Lou would like to put up a front of an unshakeable veteran, but the truth of the matter is that he's a wreck, held together by psychoactives, nicotine, and coffee. Being doped up only lets you run a little faster from your problems, not escape them, and every time he sleeps sees him swirl back down a whirlpool of nightmares.

Personality: Lou may be an ox of a man, but it's clear not all the lights are on upstairs. His eyes have a deadened quality to them, and he tends to stare through people rather than at them. His world has become a never-ending haze of gunfire, death and mud, and he's lost more friends than he cares to count. Lou tries not to get too close to anyone else in his squad, knowing that each day could be his (or their) last, and instead looks out for himself first, and follows orders second. Nonetheless, as his helmet attests to, he's not a slack on the combat front, and his M60 has barked out death for more than a dozen Charlies.

Personal History: As a young black man growing up in Chicago, Lou faced many of the same issues that any number of inner city minority kids did. From discriminatory schooling and housing to gang violence, Lou grew up with a family that was desperately trying to claw their way a little further up the social ladder. Doing his homework through the light of a shattered window, he started to harden up- getting into fights, committing petty crimes and shunning his elders, until something changed when the young man ended up talking to members of the NAACP Youth Wing. Realising that he might have a change at enacting real reform, Lou went through a remarkable change himself.

Participating in sit ins, protests and marches, Lou was never going to volunteer for the war. Although as he had grown up his parents had finally managed to land themselves a small store in inner city Chicago, they were hardly rich, and his options to draft dodge were slim to none. He was called to the war in 1967, much to his chagrin, and spent his first tour coming to terms with the hell that was Vietnam. Then, he came back the next year, after he thought he had escaped. Now, he approaches his third tour with quiet, bitter, exhausted resentment. Vietnam is a meatgrinder, and he can't keep escaping the teeth of the machine.

The Ward

The Armory:

Auroch 12: A box-magazine fed 12 gage semi automatic shotgun. Noticeably, the Aurouch also has a pump action firing mode in case of low-pressure ammunition, high likelyhood of failures to feeds or high likelyhoods of misfires. Ten shots per magazine and up to fifty metre's worth of lethal force, along with a toprail for a torch.

IT-SAR: The SAR is a semi-automatic only assault rifle firing 5.56x45mm NATO, with the standard 30 round magazines. Fitted with a siderail for a torch.

IT-MAR: A fully automatic version of the SAR, including an elongated barrel, intergrated bipod and a higher-capacity 100-round C-MAG. Also fitted with a siderail for a torch.

Sidewinder EVO5: A .45 bullpup SMG. Packing a surprising punch for its size and general lack of recoil, it has been fitted with a foregrip and siderail for a torch.

Kanai Silenced: A .22 rimfire subsonic bolt action pistol. Originally developed for vetinary work as a humane quiet and painless way of putting down injured animals in the field, the Warden has given it a new lease of life as a silent killer. That being said though, the bolt isn't designed to be wrenched about quickly; the first shot must disable, and the gun loses stopping power beyond a concerningly short 20 metres. Still, for under 50db of noise per shot, what more do you expect.

Bulldog Semi: Compact but effective, the Bulldog uses the unusual 10mm round to provide high stopping power at acceptable ranges despite the short barrel and small frame of the gun. On the downside, it has very strong recoil and an unpleasantly loud report even when surpressed.

The Ward

When at last the descent into the antediluvian depths had ended, the harnesses were released and your small party were allowed to take their first steps unaided by themselves.

"A series of supply caches are being delivered to you to assist with the completion of this task." The Warden's garbled, mechanical voice echoed out from within the tube-like structures that had shunted you down the Boreholes. "Try to avoid being crushed." Sure enough, as soon as the voice had quietened, a soft rumbling could be heard, a series of similar looking devices deposited around you. "Firstly, life support." A soft red glow would shine out from the lower portion of the first of the drops to have arrived, and when approached steel shutters noisily cranked back to reveal bottles, boxes and pouches; similar to those that you might find in a child's lunchbox, but with a viscous, thick internal consistency when touched. "Water. Nutrient paste. Gas mask filters. The gas mask contains a small rubber tube that runs throughout its construction. Attach to the provided straws to consume the contents." The upper area would then open.

"Other pertinent pieces of equipment. Use sparingly, power is limited." Handheld torches, small knives better suited for fabric than flesh, and a single peculiar device that looked like a box with a microphone attached to a wire, if the microphone was a simple silver cylinder. A dial on the front of the device had a needle that currently bounced about on the lowest bounds, but there was only a series of numbers with no appropriate unit to measure those numbers in. There was also what appeared to be a medical kit, complete with a pale grey cross on the front and what appeared to be a small tablet, if said tablet had been crossed with a brick. Lastly, a blocky plastic carrier case held a series of test tubes and stoppers along with syringes of various sizes and a small set of nitrile gloves. "Various tasks will require the use of these. Protect them well. The medical case should be used to ensure a member of the team is fit to continue onwards. Remember, extraction is only avaliable in limited areas of the Borehole.

Then, another drop would open. There were no different compartments here, instead every one of the walls were covered in firearms. "Primary and secondary weapons are located near the bottom. They are designed for quiet and efficient removal of threats. Tertiary weapons are located at the top. They will bring more attention than they remove. Use for large, unavoidable conflict exclusively, ammunition is scarce." The lower bounds of the supply shuttle held eight sets of guns, four copies of two different models. The smaller gun had an elongated surpressor attached to it, and appeared to be bolt action, whilst the second was stubbier and the surpressor was much smaller. "The smaller gun utilises subsonic ammunition. Working the cycle is louder than firing it. Use only at point blank range, and only when a lethal first shot is guarenteed. The second gun is far more versatile." Then there was the 'tertiary' guns. A bullpup submachine gun, magazine fed shotgun, assault rifle and what appeared to be a squad automatic variant of the assault rifle, with an elongated barrel and a larger magazine. In addition, numerous blocks of a marzipan-looking substance had been stacked up, with what could only be detonators pushed inside. If you wanted firepower, this was where it was. Ammunition, unfortunately, seemed scarcer. Even the large squad automatic had a mere three magazines for it, whilst the smaller pistols had entire boxes for themselves. If a large fight was gotten into, it seemed that finishing it quickly was the priority.

"Lastly." The Warden's voice would crackle out. "Many have owed their lives to these tools." The final shuttle would open, and inside were four, identical, peculiar devices. They looked like the bastard child between an axe, a crowbar and a shovel, and it even had a serrated edge on one side for sawing through obstacles. Just below the crowbar bill there was also an elongated spike, allowing the weapon to slash and stab effectively. "Use them well. Your first task; find room Blue 5. It will be locked. The tablet will allow you to spoof access." There was a momentary pause. "Warden out."

With that, you were left to adequetly equip yourselves in silence. Apart from the occasional groans of metal around you the facility was dark and silent, only a few motes of thin light piercing through here and there. Lines traced the walls; red, yellow, blue, each running off in different directions along the unchanging steel of the walls.

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure - Operation: Ground the Harpy

None of the operatives sent into France spoke any French? Was British intelligence that bad, or were these just the best they had? Dear Lord. "Madamoiselle," He switched to the Frankish language with fluidity and grace. "I can assure you we are not, and nonetheless, in a contest between us, I unfortunately do not rate you very highly, esepcially without that pistol you have. Please take us to wherever you were going to take our friend here immediately, before the rest of the boche turn up and decide that our flesh would be better suited with many little holes in it."

Then, he turned to Taras. "I know that accent. Don't presume us anything more than allies of convienience Comrade." The word was dripping with sarcasm. "Nonetheless. I think it best we vacate the area immediately. My previous colleagues will be rallying themselves." Before he could continue, Reaper emerged again.

"The Krieger sisters. Donner and Blitzen. Those two reindeer will be coming, and they'll bring with them heavier firepower than the peashooters you just had firing at you."

The Ward

Greetings Inmates. I am the Warden. Despite your many personal failings, you may yet still redeem the race you have so slighted. In approximately thirty-eight seconds, you will be deployed into the Borehole. Carry out your designated tasks, listen to my instructions, and work together, or else, you will find yourselves perishing together."

-???

You awken to the sounds of crashing steel and twisting, hissing pipes. Barely have you time to catch your bearings when a single electrical eye descends on you, and begins rattling off your instructions. A few moments later, and you are being shunted down a long, deep, unending passage, into the bowels of hell. Your only lifeline to the surface comes from the Warden, and all you know about yourselves comes from the Warden's documents he has so graciously allowed you to read. Cryogenic preservative drugs do tend to induce amnesia, after all.

Inside the Borehole is a hellish, neverending maze of scientific folly and hubris. Sucessfully navigate it, and you may, just may, receive the pardon the Warden has promised you.

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Welcome to the WARD. An SCP/GTFO inspired game, you take the role of a recently awoken inmate in 'The Ward' a giant cryogenic holding facility above the 'Borehole.' You are told little and know less- all hopes of your survival ride on your performance.

Character Sheet

Note: This will be a canon document that your character will be given. As such, the format should be stuck to. Thank you!

Full Name:
Very simple, just the name of your character.

Age:
The Warden typically uses prisoners between the ages of 21-40

Nationality:
What country your character comes from.

Appearance:
The basic overall appearance of your character, including, but not limited to, hair, eye and skin colour, height, weight, tattoos, scars or any other unusual physical feature. All inmates wear a standard set of boots, dark grey waterproof cargo trousers, a black undershirt, dark grey waterproof hooded jacket, dark grey tactical vest, a set of dark grey waterproof gloves, a large dark grey rucksack and a twin filter, single visor gas mask.

Background:
[INMATE HISTORY EXPUNGED BY WARDEN]

Talents:
A brief description of things your character is especially good at. These should give some insight into the backstory the Warden has deleted.

Personal Effect:
Yes, effect singular. The Warden tends to give Inmates a single item which they believe may inspire the Inmate when the going gets tough. What did he give your character?

The Emperor's Duty: A Warhammer 40K RP

@Jamesyco

We are indeed. We lost our Scion commander so we need another one.