Makiah and Natalie's Bio's are out (They also swapped positions.)
Next stop, the IC!
Next stop, the IC!
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Updating! tl;dr this is a name change from Esoteric.
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Arcturo's haunted, blue eyes stared at the dim screen of his phone, reading the brief message—"Alive." Suddenly, he was a sobbing mess. The emotional trauma of the evening had been too much for him. He stood, spurred into action, but stopped dead in his tracks as the windows behind him shook in their casings. A new sense of dread washed over him, running down his spine. He took another drink, feeling the cold ice press against his lips. He cursed quietly to himself, he had never been a big drinker but tonight he was done with etiquette. He pulled the bottle from his desk, taking a healthy swig before plopping down in his chair. Alive. They were alive, his daughters. That was something, right? But.. what hope could there be for them? He had seen what was happening outside. The cold truth of it was, they were all going to die.
He glanced down at the still open book, at the large pink lettering spellings his second daughter's name—Makiah. He reached out, hesitantly at first, before defeat settled in him. What else was he to do? What else could he do? Good people were being slaughtered in the street, trained men and women with weapons. And what did he have? Nothing but a handgun he'd never had to use, Hell he didn't even know how to use it. Fear clutched his heart as he caught the barest trace of movement from the corner of his eye, a shadow moving in front of his office window. He stared, and stared, but it didn't return. Another swig from the bottle, and he turned the page.
Makiah, screaming at the top of her glee filled lungs, riding on his shoulders. He could almost feel her tiny little legs, almost hear her laughter. Her sister was there too, just a stricken with happiness at seeing the fun her sister was having. Arcturo wiped a tear from his eye, thinking back at what a Daddy's girl Makiah had been. Another picture on the page, the Fourth of July. Makiah was showcased in her little griller's outfit, putting on a grand show of being such a big cook.. well, Daddy's little helper as he had called her. A second picture, capturing Kiah sharing the holiday cheer with their dog by filling his bowl with pink lemonade. The chuckle that resounded from Arcturo however, was dead and lifeless.
The pages were soundless are he carefully perused through them, taking in all the memories he'd collected over the years. The girls had always given him a hard time about being "That Dad." The kind that seemed permanently attached to a camera, or a record—How he wished he had some of those home movies with him now, to forget this insanity. Still, the pictures took him back. Makiah giving her best "Big Girl" face, shouldering a pink backpack on one side and ready for her first day of high school. Distantly, he could hear the way he chuckled at her as she hid her anxiety.
The pages moved faster now. Makiah in choir, standing in long red robes and her mouth agape as she held a shrill note; Makiah all dressed up in a red marching outfit, with one of those ridiculous hats with the fluffy plumes on her head as she huffed away at a saxophone; Makiah winning third place in a state sponsored art contest, she had sculpted a T-Rex. The memories flashed by, Arcturo's hands moved faster, as if he was afraid he wouldn't have time to finish. Makiah and her sister, dressed up for Halloween and both a little more provocatively than he would have liked.
Christmas. Makiah had been so full of life, getting her first car. She'd nearly shattered his ribs with her hugs. He remembered Natalie had gone with him, to help him pick it out. Nobody knew Makiah better than her sister. They shared a bond that he could never match, but his little Ki had loved him. He stopped on a picture of Makiah up on stage, playing Wendy in a play about Peter Pan. His thumb traced over the image, feeling the odd texture of the protective sleeve. Next to that, a picture of them all singing, one of the few his wife had captured. Nat had complimented his voice, saying he sounded like "A wood chipper eating a cat".
This was it.. No more plays, no more games, no more performances or songs, no smiles, no more hugs. No more chances to guide or teach them, to fix what he did wrong. There was no more time. The thud of something slamming into the wall running the length of the corridor outside his door. A low growl, and then suddenly the loud wails of somebody in terror.. somebody dying. Arcturo reached into his drawer, pulling out the pistol and aiming it at the door. He took another swig of whiskey, his head spinning. He remembered to thumb down the safety, his index hanging over the trigger.
Once more he glanced down. Makiah smiled up at him, surrounded by her pretty friends, arms laden with bags. She was a shopper, just like her mother. She'd always been a popular girl, always hanging around with the "in" crowds. Despite the fact that she had made decent grades, she didn't try hard for college. Instead she had argued a rather well put together case about how getting a job early on was better than student debt. Fortunately, she knew how to manage her money well. She had moved herself out, and even helped out Nat by giving her a place to stay after her latest breakup. Makiah was never a floozy, at least not that Arcturo knew about, but she had sense enough to put her job before her love life. He wasn't even sure if she'd ever actually lived with anybody else besides Nat.
Her turned the final page. The last picture had all of them, the whole family, excluding the old dog. Elliora had gotten a new lapdog, some fluffy mongrel he couldn't remember the name of, a pom-pom or something close to that. Makiah had been devastated after Mac Grooger passed away, the first dog which she in her young age had taken the liberty of naming. However, upon meeting the newest addition to their family and being overcome with joy, she'd promptly named him Sergeant Waffles, The Destroyer of Worlds.
His lips moved ever so slightly, uttering the barest traces of sound. For the first time in his life, he was praying, to what ever god was listening as he typed out a reply. The barrel of the gun wavered unsteadily, pressed against the side of his head. His finger sliding smoothly in position over the trigger. This is it, he thought, I'm all out of time. He pressed send for the last time.
He glanced down at the still open book, at the large pink lettering spellings his second daughter's name—Makiah. He reached out, hesitantly at first, before defeat settled in him. What else was he to do? What else could he do? Good people were being slaughtered in the street, trained men and women with weapons. And what did he have? Nothing but a handgun he'd never had to use, Hell he didn't even know how to use it. Fear clutched his heart as he caught the barest trace of movement from the corner of his eye, a shadow moving in front of his office window. He stared, and stared, but it didn't return. Another swig from the bottle, and he turned the page.
Makiah, screaming at the top of her glee filled lungs, riding on his shoulders. He could almost feel her tiny little legs, almost hear her laughter. Her sister was there too, just a stricken with happiness at seeing the fun her sister was having. Arcturo wiped a tear from his eye, thinking back at what a Daddy's girl Makiah had been. Another picture on the page, the Fourth of July. Makiah was showcased in her little griller's outfit, putting on a grand show of being such a big cook.. well, Daddy's little helper as he had called her. A second picture, capturing Kiah sharing the holiday cheer with their dog by filling his bowl with pink lemonade. The chuckle that resounded from Arcturo however, was dead and lifeless.
The pages were soundless are he carefully perused through them, taking in all the memories he'd collected over the years. The girls had always given him a hard time about being "That Dad." The kind that seemed permanently attached to a camera, or a record—How he wished he had some of those home movies with him now, to forget this insanity. Still, the pictures took him back. Makiah giving her best "Big Girl" face, shouldering a pink backpack on one side and ready for her first day of high school. Distantly, he could hear the way he chuckled at her as she hid her anxiety.
The pages moved faster now. Makiah in choir, standing in long red robes and her mouth agape as she held a shrill note; Makiah all dressed up in a red marching outfit, with one of those ridiculous hats with the fluffy plumes on her head as she huffed away at a saxophone; Makiah winning third place in a state sponsored art contest, she had sculpted a T-Rex. The memories flashed by, Arcturo's hands moved faster, as if he was afraid he wouldn't have time to finish. Makiah and her sister, dressed up for Halloween and both a little more provocatively than he would have liked.
Christmas. Makiah had been so full of life, getting her first car. She'd nearly shattered his ribs with her hugs. He remembered Natalie had gone with him, to help him pick it out. Nobody knew Makiah better than her sister. They shared a bond that he could never match, but his little Ki had loved him. He stopped on a picture of Makiah up on stage, playing Wendy in a play about Peter Pan. His thumb traced over the image, feeling the odd texture of the protective sleeve. Next to that, a picture of them all singing, one of the few his wife had captured. Nat had complimented his voice, saying he sounded like "A wood chipper eating a cat".
This was it.. No more plays, no more games, no more performances or songs, no smiles, no more hugs. No more chances to guide or teach them, to fix what he did wrong. There was no more time. The thud of something slamming into the wall running the length of the corridor outside his door. A low growl, and then suddenly the loud wails of somebody in terror.. somebody dying. Arcturo reached into his drawer, pulling out the pistol and aiming it at the door. He took another swig of whiskey, his head spinning. He remembered to thumb down the safety, his index hanging over the trigger.
Once more he glanced down. Makiah smiled up at him, surrounded by her pretty friends, arms laden with bags. She was a shopper, just like her mother. She'd always been a popular girl, always hanging around with the "in" crowds. Despite the fact that she had made decent grades, she didn't try hard for college. Instead she had argued a rather well put together case about how getting a job early on was better than student debt. Fortunately, she knew how to manage her money well. She had moved herself out, and even helped out Nat by giving her a place to stay after her latest breakup. Makiah was never a floozy, at least not that Arcturo knew about, but she had sense enough to put her job before her love life. He wasn't even sure if she'd ever actually lived with anybody else besides Nat.
Her turned the final page. The last picture had all of them, the whole family, excluding the old dog. Elliora had gotten a new lapdog, some fluffy mongrel he couldn't remember the name of, a pom-pom or something close to that. Makiah had been devastated after Mac Grooger passed away, the first dog which she in her young age had taken the liberty of naming. However, upon meeting the newest addition to their family and being overcome with joy, she'd promptly named him Sergeant Waffles, The Destroyer of Worlds.
His lips moved ever so slightly, uttering the barest traces of sound. For the first time in his life, he was praying, to what ever god was listening as he typed out a reply. The barrel of the gun wavered unsteadily, pressed against the side of his head. His finger sliding smoothly in position over the trigger. This is it, he thought, I'm all out of time. He pressed send for the last time.
An office becomes shrouded in haunting gloom as the glow of evening turns into the veil of night. A haggard face, pale with day old stubble, stares at a thick book that he had drawn from one of the many shelves lining the room. Ice rattles in a stout glass as he tries to sooth his nerves with the foul brew of straight whiskey, there was no time for mixers tonight. A sad smile plays across his face as he leans back in the well kept leather chair, its oiled hinges not letting off a single squeak. Still, that would have paled in comparison to the chaos erupting outside. He glances to his phone, still no response from his wife. His heart nearly leaps out of his chest as gunfire erupts outside. His shaking hand moves across the hard cover of the book, peeling the cover back slowly. As he does, the world outside seems to fade away.
His eyes settle on a picture, simple titled "Natalie". A young girl, dressed in a bright sundress, a daisy in her hair, and smiling back at him over her shoulder. He remembered that day fondly. An outing at a local park, eating ice cream, feeding the ducks, and toting around their new born: Natalie's sister. He glanced through the pictures of the early years. Birthdays, friends, her first bicycle, An array of different photos each invoking a hundred different thoughts of memories. And each one pained him, wrenching and twisting his heart into knots.
The first day of high school. He could still remember kissing his daughter goodbye, and trying to sooth the rather envious youngster in the background of the photo. Makiah had insisted she was old enough for high school too. Arcturo smiled in fond remembrance. More pictures flashed by; Natalie trying out soccer, softball; Natalie driving her first car; Wearing a shiny black dress adorned with sequins at prom; Natalie smiling with her rather uncouth friends.
She had always seemed to find her way into the rougher crowds, as if she just... belonged. Acturo knew she had started smoking early, started experimenting with drugs and getting into trouble. He'd done the same thing at that age, who was he to judge? She didn't come from poverty, she wasn't spoiled, she didn't steal from them and she didn't act like some tweaked out addict. She was a little temperamental, but level headed for the most part. He had always trusted that he'd be there to guide her onto the path of being a successful, functioning adult. He'd told himself the same thing all the times they fought about her particular choices, her shady friends, her sneaking out at night. Even this, made Arcturo smile. She was more rebellious than he had ever been.
It seemed now he'd never get the chance to finish guiding her. The world was falling apart and he couldn't even bring himself to step outside. It was pure madness out there, the only thing that awaited him was death, and surely for his family too. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he choked back a sob, taking another drink from his glass, turning to another page. Natalie's first boyfriend, a punk really. A small laugh echoed from within him, she reminded him so much of himself sometimes—His first girlfriend had been a shock to his parents too. She'd always defended him, said he treated her right, respected her. Arcturo had this inkling that the poor boy found out the hard way not to get on Nat's bad side.
Another page. Natalie on stage, rocking out to.. what was it, bass guitar? She looked so happy, and she was smiling right at him, picking him out of the crowd. That thought alone made his heart flutter quietly. Her "Rocking Out" wasn't really a career, and he had wished she'd at least tried to get into college, but he supported her. He never was one for the heavy, ear splitting kind of music she liked. And he felt so out of place in a crowd of teens all sporting chains and piercings and rebellious hairstyles. But, Nat would always be his little girl and he'd done everything he could to make her happy. Even if that meant he wasn't around enough.
It was only now, sitting in this silent room punctuated by the reverberating echoes of hollow booms, the cacophony of people yelling and screaming, that he regret not spending more time with his family. For not strengthening his relationship with his little Natalie. Ironic really, he'd always thought that stereotype wouldn't apply to him, and yet here he was, sitting in an office alone and missing his family. Still, he'd managed to make it to most of the games and performances, never missed a birthday, that had to count for something. He had been a good Father, right?
The book whispered softly as the pages brushed against each other. Natalie smiling with her sister, hanging on her with one arm. Ever the visage of the older sister, the protector. Natalie had always been really close to her sister, and Arcturo was glad for it. They'd have each other long after he and his wife had passed away. At least, he had always hoped that it would be that way. Now, he wasn't so sure. Natalie, always so strong and fierce, always so quick to resolve problems her way. The sadness of his smile became an overbearing weight on his heart. A pain so deep, and so empty, he felt that his heart may actually break apart.
He glanced again at his phone. "New Message."
His eyes settle on a picture, simple titled "Natalie". A young girl, dressed in a bright sundress, a daisy in her hair, and smiling back at him over her shoulder. He remembered that day fondly. An outing at a local park, eating ice cream, feeding the ducks, and toting around their new born: Natalie's sister. He glanced through the pictures of the early years. Birthdays, friends, her first bicycle, An array of different photos each invoking a hundred different thoughts of memories. And each one pained him, wrenching and twisting his heart into knots.
The first day of high school. He could still remember kissing his daughter goodbye, and trying to sooth the rather envious youngster in the background of the photo. Makiah had insisted she was old enough for high school too. Arcturo smiled in fond remembrance. More pictures flashed by; Natalie trying out soccer, softball; Natalie driving her first car; Wearing a shiny black dress adorned with sequins at prom; Natalie smiling with her rather uncouth friends.
She had always seemed to find her way into the rougher crowds, as if she just... belonged. Acturo knew she had started smoking early, started experimenting with drugs and getting into trouble. He'd done the same thing at that age, who was he to judge? She didn't come from poverty, she wasn't spoiled, she didn't steal from them and she didn't act like some tweaked out addict. She was a little temperamental, but level headed for the most part. He had always trusted that he'd be there to guide her onto the path of being a successful, functioning adult. He'd told himself the same thing all the times they fought about her particular choices, her shady friends, her sneaking out at night. Even this, made Arcturo smile. She was more rebellious than he had ever been.
It seemed now he'd never get the chance to finish guiding her. The world was falling apart and he couldn't even bring himself to step outside. It was pure madness out there, the only thing that awaited him was death, and surely for his family too. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he choked back a sob, taking another drink from his glass, turning to another page. Natalie's first boyfriend, a punk really. A small laugh echoed from within him, she reminded him so much of himself sometimes—His first girlfriend had been a shock to his parents too. She'd always defended him, said he treated her right, respected her. Arcturo had this inkling that the poor boy found out the hard way not to get on Nat's bad side.
Another page. Natalie on stage, rocking out to.. what was it, bass guitar? She looked so happy, and she was smiling right at him, picking him out of the crowd. That thought alone made his heart flutter quietly. Her "Rocking Out" wasn't really a career, and he had wished she'd at least tried to get into college, but he supported her. He never was one for the heavy, ear splitting kind of music she liked. And he felt so out of place in a crowd of teens all sporting chains and piercings and rebellious hairstyles. But, Nat would always be his little girl and he'd done everything he could to make her happy. Even if that meant he wasn't around enough.
It was only now, sitting in this silent room punctuated by the reverberating echoes of hollow booms, the cacophony of people yelling and screaming, that he regret not spending more time with his family. For not strengthening his relationship with his little Natalie. Ironic really, he'd always thought that stereotype wouldn't apply to him, and yet here he was, sitting in an office alone and missing his family. Still, he'd managed to make it to most of the games and performances, never missed a birthday, that had to count for something. He had been a good Father, right?
The book whispered softly as the pages brushed against each other. Natalie smiling with her sister, hanging on her with one arm. Ever the visage of the older sister, the protector. Natalie had always been really close to her sister, and Arcturo was glad for it. They'd have each other long after he and his wife had passed away. At least, he had always hoped that it would be that way. Now, he wasn't so sure. Natalie, always so strong and fierce, always so quick to resolve problems her way. The sadness of his smile became an overbearing weight on his heart. A pain so deep, and so empty, he felt that his heart may actually break apart.
He glanced again at his phone. "New Message."
I wanted to clear something up to everyone so everybody is clear. Originally I had intended for this roleplay to start about a month into the outbreak, but have since obviously changed that to day 2. I understand that between the current IC date, and the information I have provided there is a time lapse.
However, I am confident, being in advanced, in our abilities to play out the world: e.g what is basically a war of pure chaos against the feral (a losing one at that), and the "in progress" state of everything-- especially the communities I have listed. What this means is that even though, say, one community is listed as having an area section off behind a junk wall, since it is only day 2 that wall would only be "in progress". It may not even be that far yet, there may just be survivors holed up trying to stabilize their little area.
Can we all do this? Because, to be honest, I'm not to keen on having to rewrite all of the settlements to reflect their uncompleted states.
---Edit
Natalie has been posted (Post #3). Bios and IC coming next.
---------Edit
Natalie has the same bone pattern protruding from her spine along her outer forearms and the back of her calves.
However, I am confident, being in advanced, in our abilities to play out the world: e.g what is basically a war of pure chaos against the feral (a losing one at that), and the "in progress" state of everything-- especially the communities I have listed. What this means is that even though, say, one community is listed as having an area section off behind a junk wall, since it is only day 2 that wall would only be "in progress". It may not even be that far yet, there may just be survivors holed up trying to stabilize their little area.
Can we all do this? Because, to be honest, I'm not to keen on having to rewrite all of the settlements to reflect their uncompleted states.
---Edit
Natalie has been posted (Post #3). Bios and IC coming next.
---------Edit
Natalie has the same bone pattern protruding from her spine along her outer forearms and the back of her calves.
@Adora Bell
Matilda, while an interesting character, is denied.
Matilda, while an interesting character, is denied.
@Adora Bell Yes, the way I've created the Pandora Virus, which you'll all find out in time, allows things such as solid energy constructs, hallucinations, and the sort of meta-physical reactions created in open air. You are correct, that would be a kinetic power. Kinetics are literally just mages, and Somatic are the other physical classes.
@13org Sounds good, a lot of Somatics are showing animalistic traits such as talons, claws, and teeth. Nutts' character has a tail, teeth, and claws. My character Nat, just has a mouth full of sharp teeth. And I love all of it. Bestial humans are a lovely thing.
To everyone thinking up concepts keep in mind, currently in the running we have:
A Fire User.
An increased strength oriented character.
An increased speed oriented character.
A lightning-crystal brawler type.
A plant based character.
A telekinetic.
And a Technomancer.
(These are what I am aware of at the current, should you choose to go with a duplicate concept I will choose the one I like more, or the one I've already accepted. First come, first serve. May the odds be ever in your favor.)
@13org Sounds good, a lot of Somatics are showing animalistic traits such as talons, claws, and teeth. Nutts' character has a tail, teeth, and claws. My character Nat, just has a mouth full of sharp teeth. And I love all of it. Bestial humans are a lovely thing.
To everyone thinking up concepts keep in mind, currently in the running we have:
A Fire User.
An increased strength oriented character.
An increased speed oriented character.
A lightning-crystal brawler type.
A plant based character.
A telekinetic.
And a Technomancer.
(These are what I am aware of at the current, should you choose to go with a duplicate concept I will choose the one I like more, or the one I've already accepted. First come, first serve. May the odds be ever in your favor.)
@Adora Bell Downsides to first come first serve. Sorry you lost it all, but I do look forward to seeing what you come up with. Sometimes the second draft turns out to be the cooler one. I myself am torn between which character of mine I like more atm, since (#2) Nat is turning out pretty cool.
@Mcmolly I really like the sheet, I think the ghostly visage of your character would fit into this world quite well—Except for one thing. She doesn't fit into the scope of the creepy, horror mutations we were shooting for. While I do admit her likeness is quite creepy, it's lacking a bit of the horror. The sheet, overall, is excellent. The first thing I'd like to bring up is a quick modification to her powers:
It doesn't seem quite appropriate that, if Anya could not lift herself, that she could lift the thing she is standing on. Scientifically speaking, that would be Anya's Mass x The Mass of the Object which is greater than solely Anya's mass. So it seems more reasonable that lifting something she is on would actually be quite a bit more difficult. Unless we've misinterpreted this power.
Secondly, we thought long and hard about what kind of horrorific mutations would fit, as you've nailed the creepy. Strictly speaking, we were looking for some add-on mutation, such as Kiah's molten-rock arms. We have a few ideas.
The first, and by far my two favorites, would be the addition of a third eye, and have all of her eyes just, abyssal black, wholly and completely. Black colored veins running along her body, in a stark contrast to her paleness. Antennae? Black hair is also an idea. I feel like any two of these ideas would be plenty to place her back into the scope of how the Pandora Virus affects the Changed.
It doesn't seem quite appropriate that, if Anya could not lift herself, that she could lift the thing she is standing on. Scientifically speaking, that would be Anya's Mass x The Mass of the Object which is greater than solely Anya's mass. So it seems more reasonable that lifting something she is on would actually be quite a bit more difficult. Unless we've misinterpreted this power.
Secondly, we thought long and hard about what kind of horrorific mutations would fit, as you've nailed the creepy. Strictly speaking, we were looking for some add-on mutation, such as Kiah's molten-rock arms. We have a few ideas.
The first, and by far my two favorites, would be the addition of a third eye, and have all of her eyes just, abyssal black, wholly and completely. Black colored veins running along her body, in a stark contrast to her paleness. Antennae? Black hair is also an idea. I feel like any two of these ideas would be plenty to place her back into the scope of how the Pandora Virus affects the Changed.
Quick update: Added two new paragraphs to "The Changed" outlining their regeneration. My apologies for forgetting it.
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