We are hoping to have it up by Thursday
The Emperors Blade Member
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Shameless self bump
And then there was a third
@FantasyChic I appreciate your interest.
I get what you're aiming for. The last days of FOXHOUND was a webcomic about the adventures of the mercs before the events of MGS1. It was silly and irrelevant, but it did work wonders in making a bunch of minibosses seem almost human.
On a side note, how much NANOMACHINES, SON are we allowed to have for our characters starting off? Are we allowed to create little Psycho Mantises right off the bat or should we stick to more of the Vulkan Ravens and Sniper Wolves in terms of power?
You're all going to be Meryl's, but no really it's gonna be more along the lines of Raidens, Solid Snakes, Vulkan Ravens, and Sniper Wolves.
Ooh, a Last Days of Foxhound RP. Consider me interested.
It will be more of a "The New Foxhound" type RP, but I hope you still hold interest.
Metal Gear, Foxhound Reborn
Theme
”There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter.”
-Ernest Hemingway
Theme
”There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter.”
-Ernest Hemingway
The year is 2032, and as usual war is ravaging the world. The weak are defenseless in the face of those with power. They raise their hands up to the sky and scream, “Save us!” but it falls upon deaf ears. The superpowers in the world with all their military might, stand with their hands tied to help those in need, so it falls upon those willing to do the most dangerous of missions to fight on their behalf. They do not do this out of the kindness of their hearts, but for the money that will fill their bank accounts with so many zeros. No matter your past, or your reason for leaving it behind, the path of war always calls back it’s faithful.
* * *
You wake up to the sound of a phone ringing, a old jingling type ring. You see it is not a call, but rather a long text message suggesting you retrieve the laptop on the nearby counter. Upon opening the laptop a message reads. “Good morning, you are probably wondering who broke into your room, and deposited a cellphone, and laptop among your personal possessions. Well wonder no more.You have been picked for a once in a lifetime opportunity, an opportunity to join Foxhound, the most elite of all prviate military forces. Destined to become famous, and wealthy if you succeed within our organization.. Simply Follow the link below, to find your profile.. Fix any mistakes that have been made.”
A single paper envelope lays on the counter next to your computer, inside a note reads. “Good luck Soldier of Fortune. Maybe one day we can be equals.” Signed, Big Boss
******Initializing Profile…
*********Profile incomplete Please… One moment Error…
***********Profile data corrupted. Please Re-Construct
(CSes will be brought in with the OOC if we get to that point)
* * *
Welcome to the world of Metal Gear Solid, a world of tactical espionage. Where amazing, and horrible things can happen. You will be taking on the role of a Mercenary freshly being inducted into a Special Mercenary Company called Foxhound, to be sent on the most dangerous and specialized missions that they get hired to perform. Are you prepared to become part of Foxhound?
In this RP we will be playing with a serious nature, there may be times where you put yourself in a situation where you cannot escape, if this becomes the case, you may very well be killed. If this were to happen, while creating another character to replace that one we will reward your perseverance to continue in this story with us in some way. We have created a powerful and stunning plot for everyone to enjoy and develop their characters in, that is why I would request that anyone looking to post interest in this to be able to post regularly. Also depending on how well this goes it may or may not lead to a sequel in which characters from this RP that survive will take on new amazing roles in the next.
Every decision will affect what is to come, everything from completing a mission stealthily, completing it in a aggressive way, or even failing the mission completely will affect future events. There will be main missions with side objectives, side missions with side objectives, and even solo missions. Main and side missions can have between 2 and 6 players involved, while solo missions will be a single character in an extremely dangerous situation, but with a high reward payoff. All missions even side and solo missions will affect the story and outcomes. Your character’s performance in their first few missions will determine your character’s unique codename, while before this you are given the codename you will simply go by a color.
We will be utilizing an ally system which we are creatively dubbing “The Buddy” system which will feature a variety of NPCs that can be taken along in missions, or give advice via comm systems. Utilizing, and communicating with these NPCs can affect relationships, future missions, and can even affect if a character survives a mission.
We will be using a squad based RP so everyone will have to take on differentiating roles to extents, for example if everyone was a sniper then the RP would be moot. We will also be applying quite a few game mechanics to the roleplay, though I have only gone slightly into detail about a few here in the Interest check, so there’s a nice bit of meat to chew on in the OOC while you wait for the RP to begin.
And let’s not forget the bees.
(This is a running joke between the creators)
Please feel free to PM Either Myself or Tuddums, if you have any questions.
If you are interested please post your interest.
<Snipped quote by The Emperors Blade>
y u do dis
It's perfect
Big Mamo Tribe, Mobile Alabama
Music blared across the camp loudly as all the tribe members sang along while they went their daily routines. They chanted it almost cult like. “The devil is a lie, bitch I'm the truth, the devil is a lie, bitch I'm the proof.” On one end of the camp chefs prepared the meat they had gained hunting, raiding. Skins were peeled back as venison from deer was throw over poles in small strips to be smoked and turned into jerky for the warriors to eat when they ventured out. The scent of a sweet pork wafted through the air so delicious it would make any mouth water until the person saw the human limbs and torsos cooking over a fire pit.
In the middle of the village that used to be Mobile was a pick up truck, a larger tattooed Samoan man covered from toe to head in swirling tattoos sat upon its tail gate holding what used to be a human femur now covered in nails and tribal designs. Behind him his four wives dips their hands into a pot of oil rendered from human fat and gently massaged it into his skin making him glisten in the sun. Big Mamo as the tribe called him ran the lands for miles around, and with his success at continuing to take more territory Ashwanni was the only man he answered to anymore.
It was then that two young African boys ran up one of them holding a shotgun, the other holding a bow. “Big Mamo were be somtin happnen wit dem neo confed folks. We not too sure, but it seem sometin be comin dis way.. This caused a pause in the chanting around big Mamo his guards looking to the lesser chief to see what he would do.
With a grunt Big Mamo stood up causing the shocks to groan with the relief of Mamo’s massive weight. “Well guess we gone hafta go meets wit dem neo folks see what dry be bouts.” He turned climbing into the bed of the truck literally shoving his wives out onto the cracked asphalt. “Boys we goin ride for dah border to meet dem neo folks…”
It was then men seemed to come out of the wood work with a variety of weapons at hand as they followed behind the old 81 Chevy as it started to take up a slow pace towards the east, towards Florida.
Badyoyo Tribes, Northern Territory Mississippi River, Rival Tribe Raid.
A humid night like any other in the swamp lands, except tonight would be full of violence and cruelty. The glassy eyes of alligators surfaced in the water near Kafamo village. Beneath these eyes were the shaved bare heads of men as they watched the unsuspecting villagers, sing and dance. Slowly they rose from the water thirty of them in total, they carried a myriad of weapons, some blunt, some bladed.
With bare feet and naked bodies they crawled ashore and quickly dispatched any guards by jamming blades in their throats and sending blood spraying across the mud. It was then they began to scream loudly whooping and hollaring as they ran between the huts and tackling men, beating them and stabbing them. While the women were captured and tied with ropes they wore around their bare waists. Anyone who resisted was shown no mercy, man, woman, and even children were killed without remorse. By the end only bodies littered the streets as the survivors were drug off to Baton Rouge to become slaves or meat. As the raiding band marched away they could be heard chanting. “I could be your pain killer killer killer.”
Music blared across the camp loudly as all the tribe members sang along while they went their daily routines. They chanted it almost cult like. “The devil is a lie, bitch I'm the truth, the devil is a lie, bitch I'm the proof.” On one end of the camp chefs prepared the meat they had gained hunting, raiding. Skins were peeled back as venison from deer was throw over poles in small strips to be smoked and turned into jerky for the warriors to eat when they ventured out. The scent of a sweet pork wafted through the air so delicious it would make any mouth water until the person saw the human limbs and torsos cooking over a fire pit.
In the middle of the village that used to be Mobile was a pick up truck, a larger tattooed Samoan man covered from toe to head in swirling tattoos sat upon its tail gate holding what used to be a human femur now covered in nails and tribal designs. Behind him his four wives dips their hands into a pot of oil rendered from human fat and gently massaged it into his skin making him glisten in the sun. Big Mamo as the tribe called him ran the lands for miles around, and with his success at continuing to take more territory Ashwanni was the only man he answered to anymore.
It was then that two young African boys ran up one of them holding a shotgun, the other holding a bow. “Big Mamo were be somtin happnen wit dem neo confed folks. We not too sure, but it seem sometin be comin dis way.. This caused a pause in the chanting around big Mamo his guards looking to the lesser chief to see what he would do.
With a grunt Big Mamo stood up causing the shocks to groan with the relief of Mamo’s massive weight. “Well guess we gone hafta go meets wit dem neo folks see what dry be bouts.” He turned climbing into the bed of the truck literally shoving his wives out onto the cracked asphalt. “Boys we goin ride for dah border to meet dem neo folks…”
It was then men seemed to come out of the wood work with a variety of weapons at hand as they followed behind the old 81 Chevy as it started to take up a slow pace towards the east, towards Florida.
Badyoyo Tribes, Northern Territory Mississippi River, Rival Tribe Raid.
A humid night like any other in the swamp lands, except tonight would be full of violence and cruelty. The glassy eyes of alligators surfaced in the water near Kafamo village. Beneath these eyes were the shaved bare heads of men as they watched the unsuspecting villagers, sing and dance. Slowly they rose from the water thirty of them in total, they carried a myriad of weapons, some blunt, some bladed.
With bare feet and naked bodies they crawled ashore and quickly dispatched any guards by jamming blades in their throats and sending blood spraying across the mud. It was then they began to scream loudly whooping and hollaring as they ran between the huts and tackling men, beating them and stabbing them. While the women were captured and tied with ropes they wore around their bare waists. Anyone who resisted was shown no mercy, man, woman, and even children were killed without remorse. By the end only bodies littered the streets as the survivors were drug off to Baton Rouge to become slaves or meat. As the raiding band marched away they could be heard chanting. “I could be your pain killer killer killer.”
@The Emperors BladeI will mount your mother if you mess with the Neo-Con ambassador headed your way.
I can't hear you over the sound of his head being sawed off with a machete made from a man's thigh bone
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