Nobody truly knows how long the world has been subjected to the spectacle and horrors of the non-mundane, the so-called superhumans and eldritch monsters crawling out of the woodwork. Some blame the space race for inviting some unknown alien presence to the world. Others date it back a few more decades to the Nazis and the Soviets - driven by their mad philosophies without regard for ethical boundaries.
The truth is something deeper - it spans the breadth of human history, from the first Cro-Magnons all the way to the development of the worldwide web. There are things that go bump in the night, and those that are mistaken for birds or planes. Some think it science, others magic - perhaps both? It's hard to deny either when something beyond rational explanation occurs in front of your own eyes.
It was the close of the 90s that really saw it hit the public eye - where rumours and myth remained that no longer. And the various agencies, departments, bogeymen of the world - they were forced to take a stronger hand as more disruptive entities emerged from the woodwork, wreaking havoc on the world in one form or another. Pyrokinetics melting through bank vaults and security vans to get to the cash within, revenant beasts tearing a streak of vengeance and blood through cities, ego-driven 'visionaries' who manipulated hundreds into doing vile things for the 'greater good' and unfettered inventors that spawned autonomous, deadly creations. Simply put, mundane prisons were not enough to contain them.
That's where it came into play. The Supe Kitchen. The Ninth Circle. PowerMax. Call it what you will, but one name stands above the rest in its infamy.
The Borehole.
Situated somewhere in the Rockies, miles apart from civilisation and buried under at least half a mile of rock, metal and munitions. A prison purpose-built to contain the non-mundane which threaten society.
Supervillains, psychopaths, monsters - whatever you might've been outside, inside the Borehole you're just another inmate. A number.
Perhaps you're a recent transfer. Or not. Whoever you were. Whatever you did, whatever or whoever you damaged, modern society judged you unfit to remain walking free among its denizens - so they sent you here. One way in, no way out. A lifer.
Countermeasures specific to your circumstances have been in place from the moment you walked in. Maybe there's an electrified ankle bracelet to prevent you from phasing out of your cell. Maybe you're kept in constant light to avoid drawing sustenance from the shadows. Or perhaps you're kept well away from dairy products, so you don't try and wrap cords of cheese around some other poor bastard's brain stem like that obnoxious regenerator working for the white hats.
You're not even sure the guards here are human - automated systems roam the corridors, ready to pacify unrest where appropriate.
Either way, an opportunity is about to rear its ugly head. Freedom might be yours - surely that's better than spending eternity imprisoned under the mountains?
[hider=Character Name] [b]Name:[/b] If Applicable [b]Known Aliases:[/b] If Applicable [b]Age:[/b] If known. [b]Appearance:[/b] What does your character look like? Please consider realistic proportions [b]Psyche Profile:[/b] What is your character's mindset/personality, as understood to their jailors? (again, if this deviates from public view I'm happy to work with you in PMs) [b]Background:[/b] Self-explanatory. Not expecting an essay here, and quality always trumps quantity in my view. If there's a private element to it, let me know - can keep it out of public view, then. [b]Skills, Talents and Learning:[/b] Skills, talents, anything your character has learned. Where applicable. [b]Power(s) and Capabilities:[/b] A comprehensive explanation of your character's abilities/powers [b]Power Limits:[/b] Self-explanatory. [b]Known Vulnerabilities:[/b] Weaknesses. Flaws. Gaps in your character's power, perhaps a vulnerability to electricity, or an inability to maintain an altered form in direct sunlight. Maybe your character's power is dependent on a certain talisman? Nothing is free. [b]Motives:[/b] What drives your character? What would they do if they escaped? Any long term plans? Happy to keep this to PMs if preferred. [b]Level:[/b] Threat level, as defined by the Borehole's parameters. I will assign this to your character. [b]Recommended Containment Procedures:[/b] Self-explanatory, how you think your character should be contained. I will get final say on what the actual containment procedures are, but this helps me figure out how to include your character within the parameters of the prison. [b]Notes:[/b]Anything else to throw in.[/hider]
⋗ 1 . 1 | The whole point of us being here is to have a good time, have fun writing out our characters and so. Don't try and fuck with others or behave maliciously - I won't have it. My rule is simple. Don't be a cunt.
⋗ 1 . 2 | It goes without saying that Ghost Note and I have a veto on who can and can't participate. If you behave like a cunt, I will tell you to fuck off and that'll be the end of the matter. This is something that won't apply to the majority, but more for those who get off on malicious behaviour.
⋗ 1 . 3 | I enforce a policy of not informing people of every time they should post (unless their character is in the middle of an interaction and can't move further). If you go inactive without a peep, I'm not going to babysit you and you'll get left behind or worse. I can appreciate that life gets in the way of things, just try and keep up.
⋗ 1 . 4 | Don't post a "WIP" sheet in the thread. It just clutters up the thread. If you want me to read over what you have so far, just PM it to me. If you need a place to work on it just PM the sheet to yourself (or write it on one of many platforms - pad.riseup.net or whatever).
⋗ 1 . 5 | This RP will strictly be on a "first come, first serve." Meaning I will not reserve any powers/character roles/etc, and they will go to whoever finishes their character sheet first. If there's a conflict over it, I will decide the outcome. That said, I'm not going to be too hung up on things unless you have two characters that are blatant carbon copies of one another.
⋗ 1 . 6 | Character applications will go into the OOC (where we can work things out) until they are accepted. In other words, the character tab is for accepted characters only. Also, do not "reserve" a spot in the Character Tab unless you were given permission to by me.
⋗ 1 . 7 | Make use of the OOC. Random chatter is fine so long as it's nothing degenerate.
⋗ 2 . 1 | No Powergaming, God-Modding, Metagaming, etc. Use your common sense, or we'll be required to intervene.
⋗ 2 . 2 | Just to set expectations; the story will be fairly slow-paced at times. I have a job and personal commitments so this is getting squeezed between those.
⋗ 2 . 3 | All I ask for is one post a week. If it's been a week or so since your last post, your character will be placed into the inactive section until they are written off . Once a character is inactive, however, they are officially an NPC and can be used freely by the GMs, or the players if we greenlight it. Unless you give notice of your absence, then your character is off the table.
⋗ 2 . 4 | I am not a stickler for post length. I'd rather have a meaningful paragraph over an essay full of bland filler shite. But I ask for at least one or two paragraphs as a bare minimum.
⋗ 2 . 5 | Character death is a real possibility. By submitting a character, you're understanding that their actions will have consequences - I'm not (always) going to drop in with a deus ex machina to liberate them from a dangerous situation and stupid behaviour will have corresponding results. I won't go out of my way to kill people off unless they're being retarded (read: jumping onto a table to play ocarina of time to distract the axe wielding spree killer is not a smart idea) but injuries/other impairments are fair game.
⋗ 2 . 6 | Romance/Sex/Whatever is something that happens, I guess. "Fade to black" - 'nuff said? Anything sketchy is going to get you curbstomped harder than Microsoft at E3 2013 though. Likewise for any other degeneracy.
⋗ 2 . 7 | Depending on the circumstances, it would be preferred to denote at the start of your post where its events take place.
⋗ 2 . 8 | If you're also expecting me to hold your hand every step of the way, then you're going to be disappointed. This is going to be an RP that rewards taking initiative and lateral thinking. There is going to be a solid story arc to follow, but you'll be getting leeway on the journey there.
⋗ 3 . 1 | Everyone here is going to be an inmate of the Borehole. If you're looking to play a non-inmate character (ie a 'hero') then I want to make it clear you can't. That said, that doesn't doesn't mean your characters have to like each other.
⋗ 3 . 2 | Your character is a prisoner of a maximum security facility, intended to contain some of the worst entities out there. I'm not expecting everyone to be an edgy, mustache twirling psychopathic badass - and I would particularly like to discourage edgelord characters - but I expect yours to have been imprisoned for good reason.
⋗ 3 . 3 | I expect some moderate detail when writing your character sheet. Remember, this RP is going to be fairly grounded where such would be applicable and I want each character to feel like a person in some form or another. Try to give them a believable past, goals, personality, etc. Everything has a purpose.
⋗ 3 . 4 | If your goal is to basically make the strongest/best character, and try to "win" the roleplay, let me stop you here and say you won't get far. This is a story, not a place for you to wank your OP self-insert. Nothing says "I'm a bad writer" to me than giving your character the strongest abilities (along with an ass ton of skills). If there's something about your sheet I'm not happy with, I will ask you to make amendments.
⋗ 3 . 5 | You can create a character of any ethnicity, gender, sexuality, background, etc within reason. If you want to create a character who's an embodiment of some eldritch curse or whatever, that's fair game too - just put some good writing behind it.
⋗ 3 . 6 | Please refrain from tacking skills onto characters without any rationale behind them. Try to make everything feel natural to the character.
⋗ 3 . 7 | I'm setting a general limit of 1 character per person, unless there is something intrinsic to the concept you have in mind that makes multiple characters appropriate ie two characters sharing the same body, a master-minion power dynamic etc.
⋗ 3 . 8 | I expect a reasonable written description of your character's appearance, but you are welcome to use a picture to compliment that - with some caveats. No anime or furries. The image/artwork has to be fairly realistic where applicable, and I'd prefer if you shied away from using A/B-list celebrities. If you want a good point of reference for generating your own character portrait, artbreeder.com is actually a fairly good resource.
⋗ 3 . 9 | When creating a character, try to be diverse. Look at the character sheets and try to fulfill a role that no one has. No one wants a dozen edgy vampire/werewolf/demon clones. You can be pretty creative within the bounds of the setting. That also means no blatant plagiarism of characters from other media, whether that's DC, Marvel, Image Comics, Parahumans or whatever. I don't mind seeing something that takes broad strokes of inspiration or bears similarities (it is a done to death medium) but write something that's yours.
⋗ 3 . 10 |Following abilities are restricted (read: banned, unless you can convince me otherwise): Omni-anything, instant death/mind control powers. Anything related to "power manipulation" such as replication, removal, etc. Reality warping. Indestructible defenses.
⋗ 3 . 11 | On the other hand, I'm going to be giving people a relatively free hand for ideas. Supernatural, scifi themes etc. Want to play a pyrokinetic with a penchant for robbing banks? Go for it. Or a vengeful revenant, cursed for a thousand years? Same again. Just keep in mind that everything has a limitation - your character did end up in prison.
⋗ 3 . 12 | Many powers reflect some aspect of the character, so keep that in mind when creating one. I'm not asking for something super symbolic or otherwise allegorical, but keep it mind.
⋗ 3 . 13 | No blatant plagiarism of characters from other media, whether that's DC, Marvel, Image Comics, Parahumans or whatever. I don't mind seeing something that takes broad strokes of inspiration or bears similarities (it is a done to death medium) but write something that's yours.
⋗ 3 . 14 | If your character has hidden motives/misinformation in their CS, I am willing to accomodate that - if you make me aware. I don't want to have someone asspulling that they're really an eldritch god.
⋗ 3 . 15 | The lore of the setting is something I'm going to leave fairly open plan, to give people some opportunities to fill in the blanks if they wish. I'm not planning on going on the Marvel/DC scale but just want everyone to have the option of bringing something to the table.
⋗ 3 . 16 | It's up to you whether your characters know each other or not. The Borehole has a sizeable population, so you may or may not have heard of one another.
I'm working on a more comprehensive writeup for the coming week, along with a CS template. I want to give people an opportunity to roll with anything from the superhuman to the vaguely supernatural, or somewhere in between.
Supe Kitchen. The Ninth Circle. PowerMax. Countless other monickers that one can ascribe, though there is one that is almost universally recognisable.
The Borehole
Somewhere in the Rockies
ADX Florence was something of an inspiration for it, as far as security and retention was concerned. Except in this case, it was for those who weren't just defined by their humanity - that were greater than their mundane counterparts. An element-bender here, a nigh-unstoppable, mutating behemoth there. Prisoners that held a status far above their mundane counterparts.
Any world with its so-called supers, metahumans, abnormals, demigods, whatever you'd call them - would find a need for a place like this. Miles apart from civilisation, behind literal ironclad perimeter defences and buried under what feels like a mile of rock There are, of course, other places like this - but the Borehole stands out as the example - the standard by which prisons of its caliber are measured. To date, none have got in or out without the system's say-so.
You, or specifically, your character is an inmate here. Perhaps a recent transfer. Perhaps not so much. Whoever you were. Whatever you did, whatever or whoever you damaged, modern society judged you unfit to remain walking free among its denizens - so they sent you here.
Countermeasures specific to your circumstances have been in place from the moment you walked in. Maybe there's an electrified ankle bracelet to prevent you from phasing out of your cell. Maybe you're kept in constant light to avoid drawing sustenance from the shadows. Or perhaps you're just given a dairy-free diet, so you don't try and wrap cords of cheese around some other poor bastard's brain stem like that obnoxious regenerator working for the white hats.
Either way, an opportunity is about to rear its ugly head. Freedom might be yours.
Consider this a very loose concept I'm batting around at the moment, and just putting feelers out to see if anyone might bite in the next few weeks/months or so. Hemming and hawing over whether I have this in a standalone setting, with a hint of both scientifically grounded and supernatural powers, or lean more towards @The Ghost Note's classic setting (get in here and bring me my mail you fucker)
redirected here at the recommendation of a friend to catch a wider audience - RP is still gonna be leaning on advanced - roleplayerguild.com/topics/186675-the…
Appearance: Clark is what some might disparagingly refer to as a 'Pinocchio' - a vampire trapped in a child's body, allowed to turn at a young age. He carries the frame of a pubescent boy, no older than twelve or thirteen, with a voice that just about veers on the cusp of breaking. His features are smooth, with not even a wisp of body hair apart from that found on his head - an unkempt mass of charcoal fuzz. His eyes possess a dull, grey tone, resembling flinty chips of ice - and his skin is a pasty white, cool to the touch. Though undeath leaves him relatively unblemished, he does have a rather deep gouge running along the underside of his left arm, from the elbow to halfway up the sleeve - acquired during an early childhood mishap.
Clothing choices deemed 'sensible' for a child tend to be limited, but Clark usually finds room to wear a mottled-green flannel lumberjack hoodie over a khaki-tone undershirt, usually with a laced pair of sneakers. Sometimes with a pair of fingerless gloves, if it's winter.
Concept: A responsible, pragmatic member of the group stuck in a child's body. Older than most of the group, but not old enough to shave - apparently.
Powers/skills: Though locked in a child's body, Clark has doubtless been blessed with the unholy gifts bestowed by vampirism - particularly his senses. His eyes have adapted to maintain visibility in the dark, his ears are so fine-tuned that they could probably pick up local radio and his nose could rival a bloodhound's. If there's a trace of anything left at a scene, be it gasoline, ectoplasm or, above all else - blood - Clark can pick up its smell, even its taste from mere presence. Were he a decade older and precluded from the predatory habits of his kind, he'd have probably made Chicago's finest forensic investigator.
Perceptive capabilities aside, Clark is far more robust than his appearance would suggest, able to commit to admirable feats of speed, stamina and endurance while exhibiting a degree of strength that far exceeds what a 12 year old boy should be capable of demonstrating. He can scale steep walls and adjust his center of gravity to cling to the ceiling, too - among other troubling examples of behaviour uncharacteristic for 12 year old boys.
Sunlight, silver and other appropriately treated materials are corrosive to the touch, burning his skin upon contact and would doubtless prove fatal if exposed for sufficient duration, with fire having a similar effect. A stake or some other such implement impaled through the heart probably wouldn't do him much good either. Otherwise, he is functionally immortal, capable of regenerating from the most grievous of injuries in a matter of minutes.
Of course, all of the above does largely depend on Clark sustaining himself through feeding on the lifeblood of other living creatures. His robust capabilities wax and wane, depending on how much and often he sates the thirst, with wounds lingering and strength faltering when deprived of blood for too long. This growing weakness, coupled with the addictive nature of the thirst, is often enough to drive him to moments of frenzy if left unsated for too long.
Certain religious symbols, specifically those of the Abrahamic denominations, do produce a certain unease in him - personal scars from an unpleasant incident in the late '90s when some would-be evangelist attempted to 'redeem' his soul by locking him in a basement surrounded by silver implements and religious imagery.
Other gifts of vampirism - telepathy, shapeshifting and the power to enthrall other beings - all remain beyond Clark's reach, having little practice, understanding or awareness of the true heights of vampiric power. Perhaps, with time, he might be able to explore this ceiling, but that may take decades - centuries even, provided he even tries at all.
And unholy capabilities aside, Clark's not above using his diminuitive form to deceive or manipulate others into getting to where or what he wants - perhaps without even needing to play into the magnetism that vampirism lends its gifted. After all, nobody's likely to gun for the child as a suspect at the scene of a disaster - though it is a very, very sore spot of provocation for him.
Though not a conventional fighter, Clark has learned to be pragmatic and opportunistic where appropriate - relying on more underhanded tactics to compensate for his smaller stature on those occasions where he's needed to be forceful for his own good. He knows how to operate a firearm, but anything larger than a pistol or a plinker tends to be a little too clunky for his diminutive form and most would raise an eyebrow to the prospect of leaving a child with access to a firearm. He's a better pitcher than a marksman, anyhow - anything from baseballs to bricks.
In theory, Clark knows how to drive stick, though he can only just about reach the pedals and not without raising eyebrows. Bicycles are a little more manageable, though typically made redundant when not keeping up a public face and on occasion he's taken a dirt bike for a joyride when walking, running or climbing haven't been so convenient.
A product of his time, Clark shares an eclectic fondness for rock and heavy metal music to help him focus, with a select collection of tracks on his phone. The same applies to his tastes in media - though where video games are concerned, he struggles to appreciate anything newer than the SNES - perhaps his perspective was a little skewed by the unconventional controller layout of the then-revolutionary N64.
Across various social media outlets, Clark has established quite the footprint under various aliases, surprisingly enough - though it serves an ulterior motive that few would find as a good topic of conversation for the dinner table.
Things Your Character Wants to Happen: Money, continued independence. A solution to the 'pinnochio' problem that doesn't see him well and truly dead.
Things You as a Writer Wants to Happen: Interesting concept I want to give a go. I am very vaguely taking some inspiration from other media in broad strokes (think Worm/Ward/Parahumans, Fables etc) but nothing specifically derivative.
Writing Sample:
The faint thrum of hospital machinery, ventilators and heart monitors pulsed against his temples. A dozen footsteps and voices idly chattered outside the hospital room, unaware that an interloper had scaled the wall to clamber in through the window.
Clark blinked at the fragile creature resting on the bed, garbed in a speckled-blue gown that ran from shoulders to knees, an IV line snaking its way from the bedside stand into her sleeve. Time had robbed her of many things: her youth, her memories and now? Her health.
His sister wasn't long for this world, that he knew, from what he could follow of the countless conversations and private doctor's messages he'd pried upon. Illness was terminal, this time - and even if it wasn't, lucidity eluded her more days than not. Her own children couldn't bear to watch their mother fade away, seldom making personal calls anymore, and for all intents and purposes she was the last of their family.
Clark knew he shouldn't interfere. Shouldn't say anything. He was a ghost, and yet...
“Judy?“ The name slipped out of him.
His voice was barely above a whisper, yet her frail form seemed to stir in mere seconds and her withered expression seemed to light up.
"Clark?“ she spoke hoarsely, "Is that you?“
Too late to back out. "It's me, Judes..." The words spilled out awkwardly.
"Clark... where've you been, huh?" her greyed brow furrowed, leaning forward as though she wasn't aware of the IV drip feeding her fluids, "We've been worried sick." Age had robbed her of just enough lucidity to to deceive her into thinking they were just children once more.
"Mom and Dad, they've been worried sick for you.." Dad died in '91. Mom in '98.
But Clark tried to pass it off, best he could with a kind lie. "I was just with Tommy, y'know?" A retiree now, last he knew. At least he got to grow up. He knew the truth was too much to bear or believe. Far better to tolerate a gentle scolding - any excuse to spend a little time with her, face-to-face.
"Even Frank.." Judy's features creased a little more as she chided him, slowly forming the words, "H-he went looking all over for you, he can't sleep." Frank enlisted in '65 and got shipped off halfway across the world to Vietnam. In '67, they shipped him back home in a box. Clark loosened a soothing hush to try and calm her, leaning in close enough to be drawn into her embrace.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, with a childlike sincerity he hadn't felt for some time, clutching her tight as he felt her heartbeat strum a familiar, waning chord. "I didn't mean to upset you." Perhaps for just a moment, he could truly be a child again, in body and mind. Forget about what happened to him. Forget about everything he'd done - had to do, wanted to do. Forget that he was stuck somewhere between spending eternity as a child and the black oblivion which lay beyond. For a moment, Clark could be the little brother and forget.
But not the thirst. No, never the thirst. It was always with him at the best of times, like a scratch on the paintwork of a brand new Camaro. And for a brief moment, perhaps by instinct alone, he became acutely aware of her heartbeat. How even her ailing body carried blood - that it would be such a tempting moment, an opportunity. And there he was again, no longer a child.
No.
The thought shamed him, and he stiffly drew back from the thin, leathery arms that had been drawn around his shoulders. Even as that part of him tried to justify the notion, that Judy could join him - he recognised the folly of it. What life would that be? Her mind addled, her body at its final juncture. Would she have ever entertained it if her mind was her own?
He decided not. Better to let Judy rest. It was time he made his exit, before his senses failed him.
"I'll go tell Mom I'm home, Judes." Clark lied, turning away so she wouldn't see the black finger creeping from eye to cheek. "Just get some sleep." He didn't stop to see if she acknowledged that, but he felt the faint murmur on her lips. Goodbye.
As he left the room, he felt the reverberating thrum of the burner phone resting in his side pocket. Idly slipping it out, it took him but a few seconds to scan the SMS that had crept across the screen.
looking forward to seeing u buddy. ;)
Another matter to attend to, a friend - the kind that were easy enough to bait out if you trawled the right places. The kind that might've been a predator to some, but prey to him. Which was for the best, really.
The thirst was never truly apart from him. Self-control had its limits.
Clark keyed a few letters back in a well-rehearsed motion, then hit send.
Mixtape Ghost N
RevekaRed
FernStone
Atrophy
AtomicEmperor
Byrd Man
NoriWasHere
xxjessicaxx
Bartimaeus