Current
Who needs sleep when you can have crippling joint pain? I'm feeling 100x my age today.
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4 days ago
Going to attempt to get some writing done today and tomorrow.
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7 days ago
Consume the boba
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8 days ago
Not dead, just putting in way too much OT.
5
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12 days ago
Posts to come tonight or tomorrow.
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Bio
Welcome, welcome!
The short and sweet: I'm an old lady in my thirties, so I ask my partners be 18+. A veteran of many years of writing - I started way back in the days of wolf packs on AOL. Female and pansexual; I write with any and all genders - recently, I'm delving into attempting to write male roles. Dog mom and outdoor enthusiast; medical professional, volunteer firefighter, first responder, and wildlife rehabilitator.
I'm a fairly open book that has written just about everything at some point or another. I tend to write decent to long posts, play female characters (attempting to round that out), and I'm amenable to most ideas. I love slice of life, historical, fantasy, and apocalyptic adventures.
World building is fun, but so is quick play. I have a few partners that go back with me for years that I've built entire worlds and multiple generations with.
I tend to have "flawed" characters; perfection is boring, character development is not. Learning to work through their flaws, or overcome fears, is a driving point to play for me. Some of them have profiles, some of them do not. Preferences are for the dark, gritty, and rough - I don't go for fairy tales because everything being perfect would be boring.
This will keep growing with time, but feel free to PM with any questions or ideas you have in mind! I prefer one on one, but a good group might be able to catch my eye. It's been literally a decade since I wrote in a group because of a mixture of work, mental health, and obligations outside of the online world.
"Ow," Tawny whimpered. Seated on a bench inside of a room that looked more like a conservatory than a workshop, the teenager couldn’t help but hiss as two small hands moved a screwdriver to tighten one of the plates on her augmented arm. “I can feel that, doc.”
“I’m sorry, Tawny. These screws are starting to strip because I’ve had to adjust them, so I’ll need to find replacements. You’re an inch taller than you were when I made them, I’ll have to build new ones soon or rebuild these so you don’t end up with gait issues.” The reply came from Doctor Taylor as she examined the metal bits and bobs, including the wiring that was beginning to age from the weather, sun, and water. Sighing softly, the tiny woman put the tool into her leather apron that had definitely been seeing better days. “Move that arm for me and see if it feels better.”
The teenager obeyed, flexing the metal limb that started a few inches above her elbow. Rotating her wrist and opening and closing the elbow, fingers formed fists and loosened a few times. “It feels a little better, but still kind of loose, cher. It will hold for a little while… j'espère; long enough to find replacements.” Tawny’s accent was thicker when she was in pain, like now. The limb felt, to her nerves, like it was injured as an organic one would - and thus, it was stronger now. Her Cajun heritage was pronounced in speech and cooking, but the girl had always made sure people were fed.
Doctor Taylor sighed, turning her attention to the girl’s exposed leg now. Unlike her arm, Tawny likely could have had a ‘normal’ prosthetic on that limb, but it would have required replacement at the same rate as the other limb as the blonde grew into herself. Thankfully, lengthening some of the hydraulics had kept major repair at bay so far. “This looks good, though. I don’t see any rust or major issues despite you going in the woods and water.”
Nodding, Tawny rose to her feet and pulled on the worn jeans that had been removed for her inspection. “I keep it oiled as best I can, but we’re runnin’ low.” Jumping and shifting within the cotton denim worn thankfully thin, it helped negate some of the summer heat outside.
“I’ll ask Freya if she’s willing to go on a run. I know there was an auto repair shop a couple miles down the road that should have everything we need for your augments.” Doctor Taylor responded, watching carefully to see how Tawny was moving. Unlike a year and a half ago, there was no awkward leaning or shifting and no visible pain as the teenager moved. Likewise, as she pulled on and buttoned up a linen shirt and bent to put on worn boots, nothing seemed amiss.
“Any issues with the dexterity in your arm, or just the feeling like your joints are loose?” She needed to confirm.
“I managed to braid my hair last night, it just felt… bizarre. Like I wasn’t able to grip sometimes.” Tawny answered, earning a nod from the good doctor. “I would like to get this fixed before shearin’ starts. I have to do it manuellement and need to be able to grip.”
Doctor Taylor sighed at the thought. Everything was always a deadline, and there never seemed to be enough time to do any of it. Vaccine research, maintaining the augments, acting as sort of a medical doctor with the help of far too many textbooks, and more. She needed help like she needed oxygen, but luck had never been something Cassidy had ever been acquainted with. Before the Fall, it would have been easy to find an assistant - people would have lined up for it. Now, they were lucky if they had enough people to assure food and safety at times.
Tawny left after that, allowing Taylor to sit in silence on her metal rolling bench as she had countless times before. It took the redhead a moment to rise to her feet, allowing well-worn Vans to grip the flooring that needed a good sweep. This area of the old pharmacy she had taken over could afford to be a little dirty, unlike the area scrubbed regularly with soap and vinegar actually used for research.
Trekking across the tiles to the door, it was opened into the small little town that made up home. Camp Hope Light was really just a name, really - it was a small town that had been surrounded by high walls, the group members taking shifts guarding it that were able to use weapons. Taylor was not among them, far more into hiding than confrontation, but it brought comfort to see patrols happening along the top of walls.
Warm brown eyes glanced up, looking at an old water tower that served now as a vantage point for those on patrol. On top of it sat a figure that she had come to know semi-well after the last six months: Eden. The tall, fit woman was dressed in a white tank top and black cargo pants with combat boots gripping the rusting metal. Forever watching, Eden had often been referred to (and had called herself) a guard dog in a human-like body. “Eden!”
Violet eyes turned from the landscape of the sea to look down, tilting her head in response. Eden was a woman of very few words.
“Have you seen Freya!?” The doctor inquired.
A shake of Eden’s head answered her.
“When you see her, please let her know I need her to do a supply run for the augments!”
Eden nodded, turning herself back to watching. After being locked up as long as she had, the ‘young’ woman seemed to enjoy the sea and forests a bit too much. It was beautiful and serene when there was no Damned to be found.
Doctor Taylor shook her head, turning back to head into her workshop to get a bit more done before Tawny would surely have some dinner waiting for them.
Project Genesis information rough draft posted here.
Survivors of all shapes, sizes, and races are more than welcome. No one else needs to play into Genesis unless they want to or are comfortable with some very dark and traumatizing themes.
Wouldn't it be amazing if you could use more of your brain? Become smarter, stronger, faster, in the name of war and the good traits of humanity? That was the basis for Project Genesis. The desire for better men, better soldiers, unlocking more of the human potential.
In the medieval times, knights were valued for their ability to fight, to think, and to keep the other men safe. Rewarded heavily by their lords, it came as no surprise of their value to Medieval warfare. However, some men seemed to be better at what they did than others. There were tales of men who could hold off entire armies by themselves, of generals who could turn the tide of war with what seemed to be just a blink of the eye. So many nobles and royals decided that they needed more of that; they desired the power that was held in the brain of just a handful of men. Why not try to replicate it?
At first, they relied on the alchemists; an alchemist would know how to open a man's brain to be able to be more useful to be better equipped for war. Right? In truth, many of those alchemists were actually killing the soldiers they experimented on due to poisoning, illness, allergies. While the project, at first, seemed to be in only the United Kingdom and Europe, it spread over time to other countries that grew interested in the idea of creating a better soldier through means controllable by man.
In every ‘generation’ of research, many died - most did, as a matter of fact. Between 5-8% of those experimented on lived through the horrendous processes. It had always been favorable to use the ‘less dead’; they wouldn't find these orphans, prostitutes, and prisoners and no one would miss them.
Overtime, alchemy became medicine. The research used to try opening up more of the human brain became science. A closely-guarded secret, and the process began to vary by country. While research was traded or stolen between different laboratories, variants began to come out that were a little different.
As medicine gave way for more reliable nanotechnology, the success rate of Genesis injections moved from 5-8% to 12-15%. Genetics played a large role in survival rate, as you needed to have good ones to not die screaming as the technology worked to rebuild you. If you were missing certain traits, different chains needed to finish the linking of neurons, you died a horrible death of essentially being melted alive. If you had the traits needed, it was still painful - a rebirth into something different.
Something better, according to science.
Men who survived found themselves changed into the perfect specimens - large predators built for fighting and defending. Women were far, far less common and, when they came out of things, were also larger and stronger, but they didn’t have the muscle mass of the men. All were limber, strong, fast, and began to form neuropathic connections that were often referred to simply as The Link.
While it varied by country as to how the units were able to ‘link up’, many found it natural. Like turning on and off a radio channel, being able to hear others’ thoughts, smell, taste, hear what they were experiencing, and sometimes even see through one another’s eyes. In a way, some units worked a bit like a hive mind. Some that made it this far went mad with the massive changes, earning an execution. It was better to have a dead experiment than a crazy one who wasn’t able to be controlled.
Except the death of members, especially those with an open Link, was like severing their own lives at times. A drawback to their newfound power and prowess, being able to feel the shot and the loss of another’s life was another means to drive the experiments insane. Some committed suicide after the loss of their comrades, unable to handle the loss and grief. Entire units would wipe themselves out, the ability to cope lost on those who were raised to be tools.
Countries varied in how they kept and treated their experiments. Many of them were the equivalent of war crimes by condition - cells, cameras, torture either by gathering data or just trying to break the human spirit out of them completely.
When humanity fell, and some of Genesis survived, it was a completely new world to them. How were they to navigate a fallen country, a fallen world with no direction, no handler, no orders? Would they kill every human they came across, would they become protectors, or would they learn how to be human again?
Touching is Forbidden. Unless it is to serve the purpose of training, war, or medical care, it is forbidden for experiments to touch others. (This includes other experiments, handlers, civilians, soldiers, and commanders. No physical contact at all. No hugging, kissing, nada.)
Obey. Orders are to be followed indiscriminately. They are not to be questioned. (Genesis was made to be attack dogs, they were expected to be obedient about it.)
Remain in Condition. Train daily and keep your mind sharp for the times ahead. Maintain your equipment and yourself.
Preserve the Peace: Members of the Swedish Genesis program are trained not only for combat but also for maintaining societal order. Any action taken must contribute to the stability and peace of the community. Unnecessary aggression is discouraged.
Respect the Chain of Command: All instructions from superiors must be followed without hesitation or question. The hierarchy is there for the unity and efficiency of the program. (This includes commands from both military leaders and scientific advisors.)
Enhance and Maintain: Continuous self-improvement is mandatory. This includes daily physical conditioning, mental training exercises, and regular updates to any technological enhancements. Self-care is seen as a duty to remain operational and effective.
Protect the Legacy: Loyalty to the Swedish heritage and its values is paramount. Members must uphold the principles of dignity, justice, and innovation that are cherished in Swedish culture.
Isolation Protocol: Interaction with non-Genesis individuals is minimized to prevent emotional attachments and maintain operational secrecy. Physical contact is restricted to professional scenarios only.
More countries to be added.
Visual Reference - No anime/manga references, please; photography or realistic art
Name Alias/es Gender and pronouns Age Height and weight Hair, eyes, skin color Notable physical characteristics - scars/tattoos, missing limbs, etc Family, if any Immune or susceptible to the virus?
Role/occupation before and after The Fall
Skills Weapon proficiencies
Psychological weaknesses and strengths Chronic pains/illnesses
Physical Profile Thin and physically frail, scarred from The Fall both physically and mentally. Both arms have several healed bites and scratches from early on in the outbreak.
History Cassidy was born as the child of an unknown father and a teenage mother, given up for adoption an hour after her birth. A no contact request meant that even when the girl was older, there was no ability to find the young woman who had birthed her. No one had wanted a small, frail girl to adopt with ginger hair and a shy attitude despite her accelerating in school far past her peers. In fact, Cassidy had managed to graduate and begin college by sixteen and had gone on to prestigious programs focusing on nanotechnology and immunology to enhance humans and relieve illness.
Moonlighting and consulting on different projects with the American government, it had been one particular run-in with a military project that had gotten her interested specifically in neural interfacing: Genesis. If they could do what they claimed they could with nanotechnology, then it wouldn’t be impossible to replace human parts with artificial ones, right? Classified though most of that research had been, Cassidy’s brain found itself drawn to and wanting to replicate a lot of the work.
Except her research hadn’t gotten far before the world ended.
Getting out of her lab that was taken over like a tidal wave had been absolute hell. Cassidy had never been a fighter, had never held a gun or even thrown a punch in her twenty years on earth when that had happened. The hungry, angry dead had grabbed her, had bitten her and ripped out chunks of her as she struggled out of the military base that was supposed to be safe.
As it turned out, for the next year, nothing had been safe. There had been nowhere to lay her head for long as she kept moving, somehow not becoming one of the Damned that roamed and occasionally caught her. Without a way to initially research it, there surely had to be something in her genetics, in her natural immunity, that kept her from dying from the infection. Sleeping in attics, hiding in storage containers, finding ways to be invisible became a specialty.
That was, until she came upon a camp while traveling along Oregon’s rocky coastline. That camp became fortified, walls were built, and Cassidy found that some people weren’t so bad. This group, unlike the bandits and rapists out in the wastes of former cities, were good people. Hard-working, reliable, and close to one another. Though she hadn’t ever truly fit into it all, she had been able to build herself a small laboratory once solar panels were brought in - found the things she needed to begin the research to find out why she and some others didn’t die from bites.
And begin to continue her ability to replace limbs - something that had come in handy in an apocalypse, even if the materials were so, so precious to work with.
Companions None.
Connected Characters UK3080 - guarded by Genesis.
United Kingdom #3080
Eden, Freak, 3080, Her female | she/her | unknown, appears 17 | 6’, 162# | brunette, violet, sunkissed | Genesis - UK Variant alone | scarred, branded, tattooed; fully organic | government test subject, soldier (pre-Fall), guard, scout (post-Fall) located in: Camp Hope Light; northwestern tip of Oregon
UK3080 Gen XXVI 1973
Skills & Proficiencies Hand to hand combat - master Firearms - master Knives - expert Intelligence gathering - master Hunting and fishing - proficient Field medicine - passable
Psychological Profile Positive: loyal, protective, steady, goal-driven, obedient, confident Negative: over-protective, loyal to a fault, self destructive, relentlessly independant
Physical Profile Tall, fit, with numerous scars from a life inside of experimentation, the battlefield, and time spent with the Damned after The Fall.
History 3080 remembered little of her childhood, only knowing that she had once had a name and had been an orphan on the streets of Ukraine. From the time she was nine, scientists from England had groomed her into the perfect, detached soldier as they had so many other ‘less dead’ before her.
Most of 3080’s life had been spent training, being used as a government attack dog and specialized soldier. Genesis was a strange thing to be part of, an experiment that killed most people injected with the strange concoctions of mad scientists and government pawns. In and out of the war fields for years and years, experimented on like a lab rat, it was a reprieve when The Fall happened for her. There was no more isolation, no more pacing her cell like a caged animal.
She was let out to do what she had been shaped to do: guard the weak and kill threats. At first, it had been at Fort Knox, helping keep the dead from taking over. It was a slow losing fight, the Damned greatly outnumbering the living, and yet she had tried her hardest. In the end, a command from her handler sent her vaulting over the razor wire, away from a hoard descending on the five men left in the unit - all normal humans.
Go, Eden - find the scientists and keep them alive at all costs.
Finding herself completely alone, with the need to survive, had been beyond strange. Since she had been injected to join the project, there had always been someone watching her, talking to her, keeping tabs on her. The first taste of freedom had come at the cost of the world, and worse yet… she had been released in a place mostly unfamiliar to her: the United States. Most of her life had been spent in Europe and the Middle East, but not here. Not until right before the explosions of towns and bases being set on fire or blown up had happened.
Wandering for years, it had only been by coincidence that she had stumbled onto the ten foot metal walls of Camp Hope Light. A name given from one person, a small woman who looked akin to child in weight, had rung a bell in the experiment’s mind - Taylor.
“What a surprise, Doctor Taylor. You’re one of the people I’m meant to be keepin’ safe.”
Companions None.
Connected Characters Doctor Cassidy Taylor - guard, last given command from handler
Tawny Blanche Neveux
T, Blanche, Nev, Limbs female | she/her | 16 | 5’ 4”, 78# | dark blonde, blue, sunkissed | immune orphaned due to the Damned | scarred; augmented arm and leg - left | student, homesteader (pre-Fall); cook, gardener, gatherer, animal handler (post-Fall) located in: Camp Hope Light; northwestern tip of Oregon
Skills & Proficiencies Cooking - expert Animal handling - expert Hardening - expert Edibles gathering - expert Hunting and fishing - proficient Field medicine - poor Nanotechnology - poor
Physical Profile Gangly and not quite grown into her body, Tawny’s left arm and leg have been replaced after the incident that cost her her entire family. She’s still got growing to do.
History Tawny was born in a very small town in the Louisiana bayous to a mechanic and a homemaker, the oldest of two children. She had always been a caring older sister, and being able to spend time with her mama had always been cherished. Tawny grew up learning how to cook, bake, gather, hunt, fish, and farm everything they possibly could by themselves. Life had been simple and sweet, the people in the town loving and keeping the Cajun culture alive.
No one had expected for the news of the dead coming to life to come onto their televisions and radios, disrupting the slow lifestyle of every member of the little community. Many of them had been self-sufficient their entire lives, making it easy at first to hide out in the swamps. However, as time passed and certain things ran low, including the medicines needed to keep Tawny’s little brother alive. He had autoimmune conditions, making his life hell without certain things to keep him comfortable. Rather than allow her father to venture out alone, the small family had opted to go together.
For two years, they had managed to keep going. It wasn’t always easy, and some of the people they ran across were not good ones. You never knew who you could trust, especially as a child. However, when Tawny was fourteen, it was when everything changed.
The small family had been sleeping in a train car before moving outside of Portland when they heard the rustling outside of the metal box. A small group of the Damned were surely just passing through and they were safe, but that wasn’t the case. Exhausted from constantly moving, one side of the train car hadn’t been completely secured shut - and it let in the end of the family. Trapped inside of a tin can, her mother and brother had been killed first and her father had managed to kill them all with Tawny’s help, but the family was halved.
Her mother had been immune, and seeing the bite on her father’s hand, she assumed he would be too. It surely ran in the family, right? Tawny herself had survived her leg being munched on by a turned toddler.
Except, as they moved to another car to wait out the night, she noticed the signs too late that her father was, in fact, not immune. He turned before she woke, turning into a snarling monster, and had ripped apart her left arm and leg before she had a chance to grab the machete he had always carried. The long muscles were gone, bones shattered, and the useless limbs didn’t help her save her life.
It was her traumatized screaming that brought a party to her, the group having been on a supply run. While most would have killed her and been done with it, the girl had pleaded for her life - and it had succeeded. Tourniquets kept her from bleeding to death, though it hadn’t stopped the infections that set in as the four men took her back to Camp Hope Light at thirteen years old. Somehow, she survived amputation and healing with the help of Doctor Taylor, but she was forever scarred. Her left leg had to be amputated below the knee and her arm right above the elbow, turning her lopsided and awkward.
In thanks to neural interfacing, a horrendously painful and terrifying process that had her screaming and crying for three days as the sockets bonded with her nervous system, Tawny was given a new lease on life. The augmented, false limbs that Doctor Taylor had managed to make her were useful, but needed alteration regularly to keep up with her growing body.
Finding comfort in caring for animals, gardening, gathering from the wilds, and cooking for the small group, Tawny found a way to live in a world where everything had been taken from her. The youngest in the camp, she found that some tried to parent her and others pitied her, but she had bonded with no one except for a llama that had been used to keep the coyotes and bobcats away from the smaller livestock. Bill became her best friend, not judging her age or her accent, and life was beginning to finally feel kind of normal again. After all, she had always enjoyed animals more than people.
Companions
Bill the llama - While he does not like most other people, Bill loves his girl. He has been trained to pack and pull a cart as well as used as protection for the smaller livestock within the walls and the small herd of other llamas and alpacas. They produce wool for the community while also providing meat in undesirable or old animals, just like the sheep and goats. There are also horses, pigs, cows, and assorted birds within the walls for various purposes.
Connected Characters Doctor Cassidy Taylor - augmentation provider
[center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/da/c2/9b/dac29b9cc4d13b81c460ab4935f1e147.jpg[/img][/center]
[color=plum][center][h3]Welcome, welcome![/h3][/center]
[b]The short and sweet:[/b]
I'm an old lady in my thirties, so I ask my partners be 18+.
A veteran of many years of writing - I started [i]way back[/i] in the days of wolf packs on AOL.
Female and pansexual; I write with any and all genders - recently, I'm delving into attempting to write male roles.
Dog mom and outdoor enthusiast; medical professional, volunteer firefighter, first responder, and wildlife rehabilitator.
[center]I'm a fairly open book that has written just about [u]everything[/u] at some point or another. I tend to write decent to long posts, play female characters (attempting to round that out), and I'm amenable to most ideas. I love slice of life, historical, fantasy, and apocalyptic adventures.
World building is fun, but so is quick play. I have a few partners that go back with me for years that I've built entire worlds and multiple generations with.
I tend to have "flawed" characters; perfection is boring, character development is not. Learning to work through their flaws, or overcome fears, is a driving point to play for me. Some of them have profiles, some of them do not. Preferences are for the dark, gritty, and rough - I don't go for fairy tales because everything being perfect would be boring.[/center]
[right]This will keep growing with time, but feel free to PM with any questions or ideas you have in mind! I prefer one on one, but a good group [i]might[/i] be able to catch my eye. It's been literally a decade since I wrote in a group because of a mixture of work, mental health, and obligations outside of the online world.[/right]
[b][center][i]Discord: Honor and Pride#7694[/i][/center][/b][/color]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><div class="bb-center"><img src="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/da/c2/9b/dac29b9cc4d13b81c460ab4935f1e147.jpg" /></div><br><br><font color="plum"><div class="bb-center"><div class="bb-h3">Welcome, welcome!</div></div><br><br><span class="bb-b">The short and sweet:</span><br>I'm an old lady in my thirties, so I ask my partners be 18+.<br>A veteran of many years of writing - I started <span class="bb-i">way back</span> in the days of wolf packs on AOL.<br>Female and pansexual; I write with any and all genders - recently, I'm delving into attempting to write male roles.<br>Dog mom and outdoor enthusiast; medical professional, volunteer firefighter, first responder, and wildlife rehabilitator.<br><br><div class="bb-center">I'm a fairly open book that has written just about <span class="bb-u">everything</span> at some point or another. I tend to write decent to long posts, play female characters (attempting to round that out), and I'm amenable to most ideas. I love slice of life, historical, fantasy, and apocalyptic adventures. <br><br>World building is fun, but so is quick play. I have a few partners that go back with me for years that I've built entire worlds and multiple generations with.<br><br>I tend to have "flawed" characters; perfection is boring, character development is not. Learning to work through their flaws, or overcome fears, is a driving point to play for me. Some of them have profiles, some of them do not. Preferences are for the dark, gritty, and rough - I don't go for fairy tales because everything being perfect would be boring.</div><br><br><div class="bb-right">This will keep growing with time, but feel free to PM with any questions or ideas you have in mind! I prefer one on one, but a good group <span class="bb-i">might</span> be able to catch my eye. It's been literally a decade since I wrote in a group because of a mixture of work, mental health, and obligations outside of the online world.</div><br><br><span class="bb-b"><div class="bb-center"><span class="bb-i">Discord: Honor and Pride#7694</span></div></span></font></div>
Member
ThatLostDude
op2024
Kaithe Dame
Citrus
Bugman
Olive Fontaine
de riva
yobo
ErosSense
