@webboysurf, Walker is accepted.
Thayr
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STATUS:
Thanks for threatening my hope for disability pay, guys. God what a shitahow of a time.
21 days ago
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21 days ago
Current
Thanks for threatening my hope for disability pay, guys. God what a shitahow of a time.
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2 mos ago
Man, when we gettin tables for these posts. I want to microsoft sheets on these folks.
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2 mos ago
My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, they have stolen my milkshake, I have called the authorities.
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7 mos ago
I have 99 problems and they're all trying to fight me please send help.
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1 yr ago
Don't be a part of the problem, be the whole problem.
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Most Recent Posts
Hey hey hey! Y'all still accepting? ^_^
Most definitely are still accepted. Game has only just started with the IC and because I am a fool, I started it in the holiday period so really don't expect things to rocket off.
Intending for this to have very open playing field, so yeah by all means draw up the app and if able, jump in the Discord (honestly one of the reasons why this OOC is dead, whoops)
Isla Gill
Location: Route 1
Mentions: N/A
Just a heartbeat from starting to pet the first little guy and the next thing Isla knew she felt a sharp tug on her bag. It was rough enough that she stumbled to the side, almost falling over with one leg shooting out to stop herself. She shot over her gaze, seeing the second having jumped up onto the bag a little ways. His mouth was sunk into the thicker fabric, almost trying to gnaw into it, with paws outstretched just a tad to get a good grip. A flash of anger through it all as Isla stared at the Pokémon, at this guy who she'd only just been feeding freely and still wanted to claw in, tear through something.
A pause. She took a deep breath, exhaling sharply through the nose. It wasn't good to be angry at Pokémon for following their nature, to judge them fully like people with all the expectations for understanding that people had. It wasn't good to feel betrayal when nothing at all had really been said. It wasn't really anything at all, even as Dancing had begun a deep-throated growl as he perched on his shoulder. His ears were flat back against his head, eyes staring down at the intruder on the bag.
"Hey - no. Get off," she said, as assertive as could be. Well, on the plus side he wasn’t making great progress getting through the bag, which was to be expected given what it was made from. Thick, plastic-like fibers were generally hard to chew through, even with teeth like that. On the minus side, she had a Pokémon on her bag and Dancing clearly wasn't happy with it. A quick thought process about it all and she'd made something approximating a decision. She'd let him deal with it.
He barked a few times, crouched down as though ready to pounce. The statement was pretty clear: get off now and stop.
Morris Ryan Malone
Location: Abandoned Warehouse, Northside, Offshore St, Watson
Mentions: @The Incredible John
A flick of a thought. Ten minutes til. Fine-chrome fingers beat a tempo against his thigh as he leaned against one of the walls, unconsciously meeting the tempo of the music blasting against the walls of the warehouse, and the guy leaned his head back against the cool metal. Seconds trickled through his fingers as Morris went over the plans, again and again, one corner of his mind paying attention to what was in front of him, the rest going over schematics and timetables and reports. Militech controlled a lot, sure, and Night Corp controlled a lot more, but no-one had complete control of the city, the cameras here and there, the lights. A twitchy landlord here or there, a few eddies into the right palms, and suddenly he had cameras for his tenants…one of which always looked out at a street. A down-on-his-luck city engineer here or there, and suddenly a traffic camera has a tiny bit more wiring than it should. Data to data to data, trickling about. It was amazing what you could do with a little misplaced compassion.
Three trucks, armored Milipigs with new chrome and suits inside, with a few armored truck escorts. They’d gotten nervous, hauling ass through the city as lights gave green to em, red to everyone else. Someone had picked up on the game, somewhere, though the Maelstromer knew that it just gave him a little advantage. They were predictable, bold as they were, and he just had to up the volatility to crack through. People don’t expect things to go south immediately. A glance at the positioning…everything was set and ready to go. Things were going just as planned, all things considered. There was a speck on the outside of his vision, red lights and black metal.
“Boss?” The voice was tinny, distorted just a little in the box with no jaw to go along with it. Alphonse, that’s who that was, bald-chrome man whose limbs were like spiders. Morris grunted his response, angling his head just a little in recognition as his optics brought the guy into focus in the bottom corner of his vision.
“James says they’re good to go. Waiting on you downstairs.”
“Good shit.”
He got up from the wall, rubbing the back of his neck as he made the short way down to the basement. There was still movement in the warehouse, cargo-movers shifting crates here and there, organizing some that were inbound, others that were going to the loaders to be shipped off to rippers throughout Watson and Japantown. Little lights were here and there, though, on the walls; laser-detectors, tracking all through little lasers outside the normal visual spectrum. Normal. That was a good enough joke if ever he’d thought of one.
A little metal key into a door and down stairs…there he was. The airlock hissed as it sucked-out the oxygen, a little notification at the top corner of Morris’s vision that an implant had started up. He hated outside visitors, especially ones who liked stealing bits of this, parts of that, wholes of data. The inner door opened to the hum of servers, a dead quiet compared to the thump-thump-thump of the bass you could still hear through the walls and floors, the room lit by nothing but green and red pinpricks of light, server status markers. More green than red, it was a good day. Netrunner chairs here, there in three of the four corners of the room, a plethora of screens hung from the ceiling that showed what he’d been looking at before.
James stared at the boss through spider-eye optics, blues and reds and greens, and the codefreak smiled his gold teeth smile, a spasm running through his arms. James was always a happy guy, it seemed. Not a thing brought him down. He spoke with a woman’s inflection, Haitian unless Morris was off it. “If it ain’t the majesty himself. Wanted to watch the party after all, yeah?”
“Fucking boring up there. Should’ve seen the guy upstairs. Keeps passing out. Sleepy, y’know.” They’d been getting information from him for days it seemed, where all his assets were. Another gonk who’d decided to get chrome too rich for his blood and needed to pay back. Morris wished they’d be smarter about it all but they never did learn. He shook his head dismissively at it all.
“Yeah, rich kids never do change. Well. He can’t be that rich.”
“Allowances and inflation. Killer these days.” They both laughed at the joke. In truth, the guy’d just been laid off from whatever-which corp he’d been a part of, something about a downsizing effort. Apparently the implants hadn’t gotten him on the stay side of the list. He was mentally a kid, though, got up to the position through pure favors and not much else. Who’d have thought that wasn’t keeper material. He turned to one of the already jacked-in runners as James got himself set-up in his chair.
“Truck’s all ready?”
“You’re goddamn right.”
“You can start that up…five, four, three, two, one, now. Hit it.”
“Gas, gas, gas.”
He watched the screens as, a few blocks away, one of the big industrial trucks started accelerating up. They’d gotten a hold of it a few days before, decoupled a bunch of the engine safety systems, speed limiters, things like that. It was already flying through traffic, shifting itself up and away like a rocket. Driver was already trying to regain control, sure, but that wasn’t going to happen. A smile crept up along the corners of Morris’s mouth.
“One-fifty.”
“Keep it there. Intercept…yeah looks good. Looks good.”
A few seconds passed, the netrunners busy away and away, busy with their daemons and subsystems and monitoring. Words were barely exchanged as numbers served the purpose well enough. Then it all happened at once.
Front of the Militech convoy, poor little armored car, got plowed right though by the truck at the intersection. Car crumpled like a tin can as the brakes on the truck slammed shut, her cargo suddenly turning volatile at the sudden motion. Grain feed and ignition, never a good combination as that blew out too, a fireball at the intersection. Trucks couldn’t even stop, the first of them slamming right into the burning remains and moving it forward a few yards. Next one slammed on the brakes hard, too, smoke pouring out from the wheels as it narrowly missed its friend on the turn. The third kept on going, swerving violently to one side and violently to the other as it tried to get past…before overturning by it all, skidding along its side onto the sidewalk. The escorting trucks in the back came to a stop a lot quicker, fanning out; less weight, Morris supposed.
Car doors swung open on the escorts, lead going in before the corpos even took a step out from them. Shmucks used rifles, Umbras and the like. Morris had Grads for his needs. Trucks drove up as dazed Militech drivers got out from their trucks, trying to move out to cover. Some of his drivers just let-loose with autogun fire, while another opted to drive through the corpo as it skidded to a halt. A big-muscle figure popped out from one of the vans, an enormous hydraulic ram in his arms as he went from one back of a truck to another, slamming the gear into the armor before widening the hole out. Their own mover truck came-up and, soon enough, Militech gear started getting shifted over.
James smiled through his connection, chuckling aloud. “And they said office life was boring. Idiots.”
Morris let the smile reach him, too, as his eyes were glued to the screens, his ear glued to the Militech report channel. They’d blasted away on jamming for a lot of the usual frequencies, burnt out a lot of the cameras that weren’t solely theirs, but there was always a chance.. Yeah, James was right. Idiots.
Night City, 2080.
Wasn't too long ago that Arasaka got wiped across the board. Some gonk solo'ed a facility in the distance and suddenly you had corporats flatlining left and right, AVs falling out of the sky, suits getting fried right there with Ziggy. It was Christmas come early, really a beautiful time if ever there was one. That makes me feel alive, a real tear-jerker of a memory. Hell, even a bunch of their big-wigs got fried, kiddies of old Saburo, and Arasaka pulled right out from Night City within weeks.
Militech rolled in soon after, camouflaged boys who started recruiting 6th Street pukes like they were their very own, pulling the same sorta crap like Arasaka had except with cheaper suits and more chrome. The Tyger Claws that were left must've felt slighted that sugerdaddy 'Saka didn't stick to back em, or some gonk back in Japan pulled their strings, because they started a gang war across Kabuki and into Japantown. Kang Tao made good then, too, pushed themselves into the city center like a tick that just won't go away, though they steered clear of the chest thumping, kept to their own affairs. Lead flying left and right, it was real good time. Watson blew up too, amid all that, and Pacifica…well, it kept on being Pacifica. VBDs carving out an empire in secret and Animals in the gym, a tale as old as that hole. Dogtown shut its doors with everything once a Militech gunboat perched off of the coast, threatening to turn the place into real rubble if they tried fucking things up by getting involved. Rumor had it Hansen got zero'ed too, though who the hell knows with that place.
Yeah, it's a real good time for business. Solos, crews, corpos with an axe to grind, corporats with a conscience to ignore, gangers to make a mark on the city…whoever you are, there's always a way for you to make an eddy for yourself and steal one from your neighbor. So really, choom, there's just one question I've got for you.
Who the hell are you?
👀 I like the look of this, and may create a faction with my character if possible.
Sounds interesting! Lot of the planning going on is happening over Discord, I admit, but if you're not able to use that by all means shoot me a PM on the idea and we can hash things out there.
@Gisk, Hally (with an A sound), is accepted.
@The Incredible John, happy to have you! Accepted and good to post in roster.
Isla Gill
Location: Route 1
Mentions: N/A
Well, on one hand Isla’s heart absolutely melted at watching the little Pokémon with its absolutely wide eyes. The lil guy was just adorable, with his…well, the tail looked like a broom, sure, and the way the fox wolfed down the jerky just struck her the wrong way, but then again she’d seen some that’d looked weirder and far, far more hungry Pokémon in how they ate. Isla tried to listen out and away about the forest in general, everything around her, but she very well couldn’t just…turn her head out and about. There was a Pokémon right in front of her, and really looking away struck the young girl as a bad idea. Rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, she watched the little fox get closer and closer.
Dancing, though, had grown well awake at the new smells and such. He regarded the one right before them for a moment, noting that they were getting the jerky too. Snorting, he made the decision that he’d want something a bit more next time if some random fox got it; there wasn’t much more to be said on that matter, so he got up while on her shoulder, patting feet around to let the great bushy tail smack Isla right in the back of the face as the Eevee looked about.
“Hey, what the-” she giggled, head coming low for a moment as it lightly smacked. Dancing had paused, though, locking eyes with the second one who had been stealthily padding up from behind. He stared, too, giving off something between a cough and a bark at the fox, throaty and roughshorn.
Well, that’s not a normal noise. Isla slowly rose back up just enough to swivel, swaying slight at the weight on her shoulder as she took a look at whatever it was Dancing had spotted, keeping in mind that she still had the one right in front of her to watch. He’d gotten close enough that, in all likelihood, it’d be just a few more steps before she could pet the guy; comfortable, aren’t they? Had others fed them? Was it a natural tendency? Then Isla spotted the other one. Ah. There had been a plan there. Smart little guys.
She tossed a piece of jerky to him as well, a good deal less careful now, turning her head just a little to consider the first. Taking a smaller piece from her bag, since honestly she’d started running out from this one, Isla leaned down, almost offering it to the fox.
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