OutlawTorn

Nebular Delirium (Mature, intellectual, Char-Driven Sci Fi)

Well, we've got one Alcoholic (Leon Blackthrone). The ghost of the daughter thing sounds really weird. I gotta admit it raises a tiny red flag somewhere in recesses of my mind. Things like that can get very played out and annoying, very fast. But having said that, I don't know exactly how you would approach it. Getting hammered and talking to her is one thing, having conversations with an apparition on a regular basis would probably get old and mildly cheesy in a hurry.

But I'm all for different, strange, and otherwise fringe. That's what sets me apart as a writer. I don't do what's already been done.

Let's B!tch. I feel it's a healthy release for our annoyances.

In my opinion, you've had a very poor RP/writing experience.

Perhaps sometime we can do a FanFic together, and I can show you just how wrong you are.

It's a matter of observation and a little homework. I know Wolverine. I know his past and history as well as it's been made available by said creators. I've read countless comic books, watched the animated series. I know Wolverine as well as one can know Wolverine. I know his personality traits, his habits, his moral stances. The amount of source material for Wolverine is overwhelming! How then could I not understand him well enough to accurately portray him?

I mean, if you can't play a character, the creator hasn't done their job very well, because if they had, you'd be a little more equipped to play the character, because you'd understand that character enough to take a shot at it.

So either you just aren't that good at understanding characters, or the creators of your favourite stories/characters are doing a piss poor job of it.

Let's B!tch. I feel it's a healthy release for our annoyances.

Derpestein said
This all the way.No one is going to properly RP as a canon character besides the people who made the show.Anyways, all this discussion about RP's makes me want to make a parody RP, making fun of tropes and cliches. But that's hard to pull off and I'm not funny at all.

Bullshit! I completely disagree based on personal experience. I happen to know for a fact that it's possible for a good writer, who knows the character in question to write them accurately. You have to know the character intimately, however. This means that not every character can be played well. Take a video game character for example. This character is the star of 1 game. IN that game, his character is explored in very little detail, and relies on the strength of the script alone, which was was average at best.

Playing this character would be hard to say the least.

But take for example Goku, from Dragon Ball. Anyone with a knowledge of the rich history and lore of the Dragon Ball franchise could accurately play Goku, Vegita, Gohan, or any of the main cast.

I was once involved in an X-Men RP, and I've been told that I played Wolverine very well, because Logan is a character I know very well.

This entire thread could very easily rock a writer's faith in this community to the very core. Any good writer can take on any character given to them, and hold their own. That's what defines a good writer and role player.

Nebular Delirium (Mature, intellectual, Char-Driven Sci Fi)

Flamelord said
Hm, so closest I'm getting is "Warsaw Pact without an opposing NATO or USA". I'm gonna stop analogies now since I doubt there's one that will fit well anyway, and just say that I understand. Alrighty on tech. So nitty gritty, kinetics and missiles for weapons, with maybe lasers for point defense purposes (Like what they had on the Boeing YAL-1 before the project was scrapped) Not too effective cause space is big, and you couldn't kill a ship with it. Prosthetics exist but are bulky, not smooth streamlined and nearly indistinguishable from flesh and blood. Maybe drone fighters, if those are effective at the kind of combat distances that would be involved.Great minds think alike apparently, I was going to mention the Alcubierre Drive myself. Besides, perhaps, nBSG point to point travel, however that might work, the alternative I can think of is a 'Mass Effect' type system. Namely, FTL exists, but it isn't particularly fast. So to travel, say, across the galaxy, you have to use these structures we'll call 'Stargates', for lack of a better term. These stargates are large structures with the power and capability to create wormholes between itself and other gates. They're generally guarded by space stations or automated turrets too. It provides choke points that the Nexus could theoretically use to keep sway over chunks of the galaxy. I dunnoAnyway, still interested, either as the espionage specialist (I have good ideas for this), or the engineer.

It's not meant to be molded after any existing political systems or alliances. It's science ficiton, not a proposed futuristic Earth, or anything resembling something along those lines. Trying to find something to compare it to is not going to work well at all for you.

Again I'll stress that Earth plays no part in this story or galaxy, whatsoever. So a scene where your character is listening to Johnny Cash in his/her down time will not work. Referencing uniquely Earth-bound people, places, or things will not work either.

Nexus is a unique and fictional galactic Regime. It's not like the US or NATO, because the planet's under the rule of Nexus were press-ganged into allegiance.

Now, again, Nexus is not a focus of the story, so it really matters not. Either way you look at it.

Sorry for the delay, people. I'm a very, very busy man. The last few weeks I've found myself phoning posts in for Dead Frontier and Legacy Written In Blood from work, just to get them done. That's not a reflection of my ability to do this RP, but a reflection of the time and patients it may take us to write this. If things go well and Neb D actually starts, I'll work on freeing up some time just for it.

Now again, I want a small group, so 8 people playing 1 role each will not work. Show me what you're made of people. I play multiple characters in every RP I participate in. There's nothing harder, or more challenging about it. It's actually easier, and more rewarding.

Dead Frontier

The SS crawled along an old, derelict street carved out of a forgotten city in the festering corpse of America. It barely crawled it's way through the heavy snow which had fallen the night before. It pulled to a stop and the driver's side opened slowly. Owen stepped out of the vehicle, pistol in hand. Within the SS, Lady and Rudy fought for positioning between the front seats. Owen closed the door over to shelter them and approached the trunk, of the car, silenced pistol in hand.

He grabbed a black backpack modified with a quiver of arrows which he fixed around his shoulders, a compound bow, and a long range rifle.

He opened the car door. "Come," he said softly. Lady and Rudy struggled through the leather seats. Rudy forced his way through first and Lady eagerly followed. Owen slung the rifle over his right shoulder, opposite the quiver, forcing a tight fit over a the backpack. He adjusted the strap and closed the door over gently.

"Stay close," he whispered sternly, and the twins got close to him. They knew the drill. Keep a tight formation, and quietly alert him of any activity they picked up via nose or ears. They were also trained to discretely lead him to identified activity when commanded to do so. It was a good system. Reliable, effective. The three of them had become an alpha predator in the post-apocalyptic ruins of America. They were roughly three years into the crisis. There was nothing left but strongholds, colonies, settlements, and the wasteland. Owen travelled the wasteland, where other people were rare. Looters and stragglers like him were the only living breathing homosapians you encountered out here. Those types of people were easily eluded, or otherwise ambushed and ironically looted. It came down to necessity. Owen didn't want to kill anyone, but neither did he want to be around or trust them. He had learned to shut off his conscience and pre-crisis moral compass fairly quickly. Killing that man in a Kentucky stronghold cemented that change within him. In that moment, he gave up all hope in the rest of humanity. From then on, he knew as far as people go, he was alone.

A Legacy Written In Blood: Rising

Owen nervously entered the office of New Haven Sheriff Ed Wilson. The Sheriff had requested to speak with him, and Owen had no idea why.

Wilson was in the middle of a phone call.

"I'll call you back," Wilson told the person on the other end of the line, a serious tone in his voice and look in his eyes. He hung up the phone swiftly, resting his elbows on his cluttered desk. 

"You gonna sit down, or stand there lookin' stupid?" Wilson asked him sarcastically.

Owen timidly grabbed a seat, visibly uncomfortable.

"You, wanted to see me, Sheriff?"

"I've never been one for these sorts of conversations, Reznik. So I'll go ahead and cut straight to the point," Wilson said, leaning back in his chair.

Owen nodded nervously.

"Word travels pretty fast around here, Owen."

Wilson had never used him first name before.

"That it does, sir."

"Look, kid. You gotta let this thing go. I know you're shook up. You want answers, closure. But this thing, this... Incident, it's over now. And we'll probably find this guy's body in a ditch somewhere any day now. What you have to do is move on. You understand what I'm sayin' to you, Owen?"

Owen hesitated. "I understand, Sheriff, it's just that," Wilson cut him off, abruptly leaning forward onto his desk again.

"I don't think you heard me, Reznik. This case is closed! Maybe two weeks suspension is the time you need to really get a handle on this thing..."

Owen remained silent for a moment, swallowing his pride and frustration.

"No, sir. I understand just fine."

"Say it."

"The case is closed. I've moved on."

Wilson leaned back, picking up the phone. "Shut the door behind you."

Nebular Delirium (Mature, intellectual, Char-Driven Sci Fi)

Well it's nothing like NATO. More to the tune of an invasion followed by occupation. Atmos Prime was once a planet like our own. Divided and at war with itself. Thousands of years ago, the planet was, "unified." Basically one alliance of nations took over everything. Nexus was born and over time things settled nicely.

Then Nexus begins attacking other planets. Either taking over by force and installing a new government to rule under the thumb of Atmos Prime, or negotiating their surrender and installing a new government.

The planets which fall under the umbrella of Nexus are subordinates. They are not given political leverage, and that's why Nexus has rose to dominate the galaxy. It's, "Join us, and obey us, or we'll destroy you and take your planet anyway."

Nexus High Command rules everything. A representative of each planet sits on a council that answers to High Command.

Ariana basically rules an entire galaxy.

But the focus is really The Valiant. The locations and artifacts. Not Atmos Prime. The Nexus Military, and other Agent vessels will become another focus later on. And I'll explain after I address the tech question.

As far as tech goes, I'm glad you asked. I want a gritty feeling. No laser weapons. Just a practical, realistic, again, gritty feeling.

And I struggled with what kind of technology the ships would have to travel great distances. I'm not even sure yet so you can help me come up with something.

One idea I had was wormhole technology that would allow vessels to bend time and space, travelling from point A to point B in an instant. The thing I keep coming back to is where the wormholes come from.

I had a few ideas.

Wormholes are created by machines at Nexus Space Stations, and on some Nexus ships (the bigger ones leading fleets and such)

I also played with the idea that our ship could generate wormholes, for the sake of convenience. The catch being once a wormhole is created, it can be accessed by other ships from then on. So opposition would be able to follow if the have wormhole technology.

I also played with the idea that worm tech was stolen from a much more advanced race believed to be from another galaxy. I haven't worked on them for the same reason. Not immediately important, and I want to give my co-writers some input here.

What are your thoughts on, or ideas for wormhole technology?

It's a new idea my friend gave me, so I'm not opposed to ideas from you, even if you have faith in an FTL system. You don't strike me as a stranger to SciFi.

Okay

I'm going to be honest. I've come up with a rough idea for what I want to go down in the plot for the first RP. it's just 1 major event.

Starting out, we don't know what's going on. Ariana has not told us what we are helping her do. After a while, a traumatic event will lead to our crew going back to Atmos Prime, to confront Ariana for answers, and drop off the latest artifact in person. She see's Leon privately (just because it's realistic) and tells him everything. Leon then informs the crew. I have no idea how your characters will handle it, but Leon is going rogue, with his ship, and one of the artifacts.

That's when another Agent vessel will be hired to kill us, on top of the Nexus Military hunting us down.

Maybe some people won't want to go rogue. Maybe an Agent or two from The Valiant might be put on this other ship as a Valiant Specialist.

Hmm... Who knows how many ways that could play out.

Nebular Delirium (Mature, intellectual, Char-Driven Sci Fi)

Nebular Delirium

HISTORY & LORE

Mythology of Atmos Prime
In the beginning, there was only Nebulana. A divine entity. A goddess. Going forth, she created the universe, one planet at a time, constantly expanding the vastness of galaxies as we speak. She is everything, everything is her. Her job is never complete, her work, never done. There-in lies the problem which forms the premise of this story.

Problem
Over trillions of years, she has spread FAR too thin. She's losing control, losing her balance. She's created too much, it's evolved too far beyond her grasp. Nebulana, in of herself, is losing control; going mad. This is causing mass instability on a galaxy-wide scale. The very fabric of the universe is frayed, and falling apart.

Blitz radiation fields, imploding stars, broken planetary orbits, stray moons crashing into neighboring planets, phantom wormholes, and rogue black holes... Complete and utter destruction via long-term chaos. Physics itself is breaking down.

Solution
Foreseeing this phenomena from early on, Nebulana put in place, several measures to save her beloved creation from herself.

First, she created Messengers. Semi-divine beings who's purpose was to act as a line of communication between Nebulana and mankind when and where necessary. She created them in mankind's image, assuming they would function best that way. Several Messengers where assigned to each man-fairing planet.

Secondly, she created the Arcanian Artifacts. Seven powerful objects which wield a divine power. Alone, they are merely mystical objects with a unique power (usually over the people or area around it). Together, they possess the power, according to Atmos Prime mythology, to destroy Nebulana, save the universe, or both.

These artifacts are scattered across the very first galaxy Nebulana created. The ground zero of life, where it all began, and where it will soon begin to end.

Other Problems
Over a long, long, long period of time, some Messengers become corrupt, and greedy; drunken with power. Nebulana is, after all, going mad. Order is slowly slipping away. These Messengers assume the roles of gods, interacting with mankind, governing entire races of men with their power. This leads to a civil war of sorts between Messengers, and the bad apples are killed in the conflict, ending the age of gods. Space then prevents any Messenger from harming another... Again, we see her love for her creations.

SETTING & PLOT

Present day. It's an unknown year in the Atmos galaxy, so far from the young, infantile planet known as earth, that it has no baring on this story, whatsoever. To clarify, Earth is not in this story, at all. Not even an option.

Nexus is a powerful, vast interplanetary alliance. Based out of Atmos Prime, they rule the majority of the galaxy with an iron fist.

Ariana Cortez is the elected leader of Nexus, and Ambassador to the Universe. Along with Nexus High Command, Ariana has been studying the phenomena dubbed, "Nebular Delirium", in which the universe itself, appears to be losing it's sanity. Legends have existed on many different planets of the goddess Nebulana, but long have they been forgotten, until Nebular Delirium reared it's ugly head. Now the possibility is being explored. But common folk know nothing of this. They hear rumors of black holes, and such, but Nebular Delirium is something Nexus has kept bottled up at the top, as the knowledge of this would incite mass hysteria. You could be dealing with total anarchy on a Nexus-wide scale inside of a few months. People would lose hope. Mass suicides, riots, looting, etc.

No... Arianna has better plans. She has consulted the Great Library of Nexus on her home of Atmos Prime. There she learned of the seven Arcanian Artifacts from an ancient book of [a now] unknown origin.

Her plan is to collect these artifacts, and use them

Our Roles
Nexus Special Agent Vessel, The Valiant. Home of a tiny crew of Nexus Agents. Highly trained, highly skilled soldiers, each specializing in a given area. There are also several civilian/non-field positions. We're the finest unit in the Nexus fleet. Our job, alongside the Nexus Military rough necks, will be to gather up these Artifacts for Arianna.

Roles
Captain — Taken (Leon Blackthorne)
Pilot — Open
Agent #1 — Taken (Sinamoi "Sino" Servantese)
Agent #2 — Open
(Field) Tech. Specialist — Open
Espionage Specialist — Open
Demolition Expert — Taken (Samantha "Sam B." Briggs)
Sniper — Open
Medic/Doctor — Open
Tech. Specialist — Open
Engineer — Open

Now, I want a small group, so feel free to take on 2 or more Characters. Any Open spots I'll fill myself.

Feel free to ask questions, discuss character ideas.

Something to stress
NO alien characters. We're ALL humanoid. As human as human can be. This story is character driven. It's about people, humans. The brotherhood and bond they share. But also how this job pushes them apart too. We're assassins of Nexus. We are routinely asked to do horrific things, and must complete those tasks without question or hesitation. Not 1 person on this vessel is a badass, cold-blooded sadistic killing machine. We ALL struggle with demons from this job, and deal with them in our way.

Sam Briggs is THE most fucked up, sadistic person in our unit, as she was created to be. But Sam is also one of the most complex characters (that I've created) in this story. Her sadistic bravado is a defense mechanism which hides and protects her true, ever-flawed and broken self.

So keep that in mind. If you wanna play the badass, calm and cool 1-liner extraordinaire, this is the wrong RP for you. I'm looking for flawed, vulnerable, realistic characters to help tell a beautiful, yet entertaining action adventure.

One thing I don't do is Average. When I create a story, or RP concept, a lot goes into it. It has to be special or unique somehow. Offer something refreshing or of substance.

I promise you a rewarding few RPs out of this.

Shout at me. Thanks for your time!

Final Fantasy (A Tribute to Squaresoft)

"It's about choice my friends. The choice to live free of oppression, and corruption. To be afforded the same protection, securities, luxuries and privileges as those who live in the core.

We must rise above our oppressors and fight for our freedom. Storm the gates, spill the blood of our brothers who have forgotten and abandoned us. Locked us out, and cast us aside.

They've written us off my brothers and sisters! They've turned their backs on us, and built their walls and towers high. But this I say to you, my friends, my comrades: take for yourselves what is fair and right. Always we will fight. Light of day or dark of night. Always freedom in our sight...

Never back down, there are fellow freedom fighters all around you, hidden in plain sight. Seek and you will find. Keep the faith, have hope and courage. Stay smart, and you will be fighting the fight all the same. Our enemy is clever, and strong... But so are we, in our own right. In fact, we are even stronger! This is Stryker, coming to you from your one and only, Rebel Radio..."

All across the slums, millions of radios were tuned in to Stryker's transmission.

He was the faceless leader of a desperate, broken city. A symbol of hope and freedom, a voice of truth.

He was their hero.

Dead Frontier

Partially intoxicated laughter surrounded a kitchen table in a modest suburban home. Two men and two women sat around the circular wooden surface drinking beer and playing cards. Asshole was the game, and Owen Thorne was winning. That made him President, for now. That could change by the end of the round, though. Vice President was Hanna Thorne, Vice Asshole was Laura MacDonald, a young woman with blonde hair and a pale, angelic face. She was Hanna's friend from high school. The Asshole was none other than John Thorne, Owen's big brother, and Hanna's husband. The four of them were blissfully hammered after consuming %6 beer all evening. It was the real stuff. Canadian beer, not the watered-down American shit they passed off as beer. Canadians didn't drink to socialize or for something to do during the big game. No, Canadians drink to get drunk.

"We should do this more often, Owen," Hanna said with a wide, glowing smile, staring at Owen intently.

Owen took a gulp of beer. "Yeah, I just hate coming here so fucking much, you know?" They all laughed. "Your beer sucks, for one. Okay. Two... Just, whatever. Your beer fuckin' sucks." Owen was legitimately shit faced at this juncture of the evening. But to be fair, so was everyone else around the table.

"Don't worry sweety, it's not you, or the beer. My baby brother here just has a fear of flying," John explained.

"Fuck that!" Owen protested defensively. "I don't 'fear' flying."

"Oh, you don't?"

"No."

"No?"

"No! I don't fuckin'... What do you want from me? I don't fuckin' fear flying. Straight up."

"You mean to tell me that you didn't throw the most epic fit ever in the Halifax Airport, Christmas of '87 because you found out we were flying home instead of taking the train?"

"I wanted to ride the fuckin' train, John. It had nothing to do with the plane."

"The stewardess practically had to babysit you the ENTIRE fucking flight buddy, because you were ballin' your eyes out for the ENTIRE flight."

Everyone laughed with a warm love for each other and Owen.

"He's afraid of snakes," Owen added quickly, smiling as he took a swig of warm, flat beer.

"Asshole," John mumbled, smiling wide with embarrassment.

"Awww! It's okay baby," Hanna comforted John, kissing him on the cheek, holding his hand.

Laura and Owen shared an awkward moment of silence.

"Where's your fiancé, Owen?" she asked him hesitantly.

"Couldn't make it. She's got a lot on her plate with work and school," he explained sadly. He missed her. Wished she was there with him. Alcohol tends to do that to you. Makes you all mushy and sentimental. It betrays all of your defenses and efforts to maintain a firm front and composure.

Owen tossed his cards on the table, chugging the last of his beer. "Alright, folks. I'm hereby retiring for the night."

"What the fuck, shit stain? The game's not even over!" John shouted.

"S.O.L. Johnny boy," Owen said as he left the table, making his way to the guest bedroom.

Owen walked down the hallway of his brother's home. He was shirtless, wearing a pair of jeans from the night before. As he approached the living room area, he stopped in his tracks as he laid eyes on two small puppies running around the hardwood floor. They were huskies, no more than a month old. They were absolutely and undeniably the cutest, most adorable things Owen had ever seen.

"You think she'll like 'em?" John asked cheerfully, kneeling on the living room rug between two sofas.

Owen was bewildered. "Um. Yeah, sure bro." He walked over to the fridge, grabbing a picture of orange juice, and poured himself a tall glass.

"I certainly fucking hope so. These things aren't cheap. You know what I'm sayin'?"

Owen shook his head. "I got a flight to catch here pretty soon, bro. I'ma have to leave within the hour."

"Yeah man. Just be careful, traffic was kinda crazy comin' home today. The bridge was backed up so bad I had to take the valley home, so just let the driver know."

Owen barely acknowledged the information. "Yeah, thanks."

John got to his feet after playing with the dogs. He walked over to Owen, hugging him tightly. "I love you bro. You gotta come see me more often."

"Love you too, Johnny. And we will, Lizzy and me. She was real bummed about not makin' it down here this time. You know she loves Hanna."

"Hanna loves her too," John reassured him. "Laura liked you too, you know?" John said, returning to the puppies. "You're all she talked about after you bailed out. Hanna thinks she likes you."

Owen chuckled awkwardly. "What?"

John shrugged, smiling.

"And I didn't fuckin' bail. I had to call it in. I have a flight to catch. It's a long walk back to Canada."

"You bailed out like a black man at a Klan rally. Classic Owen move. Still a fuckin' lightweight."

Owen laughed, shaking his head. "I gotta get dressed. Wheels up in two hours."

Owen woke up to the frigid morning air inside the Camaro. As he peered around warily, Lady and Rudy returned his gaze, immediately advancing on his position, bombarding him with heavy fire from soft, slimy tongues and cold, wet noses.

He fought them off and adjusted his seat, removing the blanket and pillow from around him. He grabbed a cigarette and a bottle of water, loosening up and preparing for another day in post-apocalyptic America.