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I'll go over the apps in the next few days.
Placeholder.
Placeholder post for setting and catchup.




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?






RULES







Still open for interest?


Yep, just working on the OOC between work and other commitments.
No guarantees, but I may or may not get the OOC up within the next 48 hours. In the meantime, check the OP - little atmosphere to build up.
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.
If you've got rough char concepts, pitch them.




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.

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