Major Bioshock Roleplay
Alright. I decided to kick off my own roleplay thread. My first thread, too. Now... I have a few simple rules...
1. No godmodding, example: "I headshot you with my magic. you're dead."
2. Character knowledge and player knowledge are two different things. You are NOT your character. You can't just know something and say your character knows it.
3. OOC or Out of Character. Make sure you tell every one WHEN you are out of character.
4. Your character can not immediately have everything and every weapon in the world. The Plasmid limit is 3. The Gene tonic limit is 4. Weapon limit is 3. You automatically start off with a service radio, unless you don't want to.
5. No Vita- Chambers...
6. I love grammar, please, please... feed me some good grammar.
7. The more plasmids and gene tonics you have, the more ugly and less charismatic your character is. Also, your character can't think straight some times, if you are heavily spliced.
8. Make sure you are descriptive about what your character is doing, nobody needs to get confused.
9. My setting is the one and only, you can't make a entire new story, unless you get my permission. What I mean by this is... say we're in Neptune Bounty, Ol' Johnny decides to make it so everybody is some how teleported to Adonis. NO!
10. This isn't really a rule, or enforced, but please help other players out by posting the time in your area. It can really help people decide whether they should post something serious immediately or later. You don't have to do this all the time, just every once in awhile!
11. This thread is constantly changing. Same with the story! Try to keep up to date.
12. Finally, characters. There can be 1 Big Sister. 3 Big Daddies. 2 special characters, like Brutes. The rest must be normal Splicers, or Humans.
13. Newest rule. Before you start playing, you must message me a parargrah stating why you want to play. This will lessen the stupidity. I'll only choose people who can spell correctly and make sense in their writings.
Alright, the story has started!. REPEAT, The story has started but you can still join!.
Creating Factions: A player can make his character start any faction. ANY. Just PM me if you want to create one.
You can now make multiple characters! Limited to two only
That's about it... don't be racial, don't swear unless it's in roleplay form. Groups CAN be made, Not big groups like the family, but small, joinable factions. Oh yeah, please post your character bio before you start playing. It's started, but you must post your bio before you start playing! Please enjoy.
I want to thank Beaten with a Rock for making the banners, and icons for factions!
My old character bio, and example:
Name: Grathius Chetsliavun (Russian)
Appearance: 5'11", Nose is irregular, since it has been broken and the bridge is now nearly pointing to his right. His eyes have a dim yellow glow to them, kind of like a Little Sister's except you can hardly notice his. He weighs about 190 pounds, he has found a way to grow foods of his own with heat lamps. He is pretty healthy from his own little farm. Of course, he is in Rapture though, so he must protect what is his, and he has gained some muscles this way. He has a few tattoos of barb wire, skulls, etc. A long, jagged scar runs across his forehead all the way to his chin, which points out a little abruptly. Splicing has taken effect on him too, he has six fingers on his left hand, his ribs have grown a little, you can see them nearly breaking his skin. Grathius has a bunny mask which has grown into his skin. It will not come off, it is an exstention of his body. His body has grown adapt to the Houdini plasmid, and is now so used to being rearranged and set back in place again, broken bones tend to some how find their way back to their original positions... though takes a bit.
Apparel: A tuxedo, Fedora, and Bunny Mask. These offer little protection but he feels stylish wearing them. He can't take the Bunny Mask off anyways, though.
Equipment: He always carries a entire sack of Eve Hypos, tied around his waist. He also has an old revolver stolen from a former Police officer, same with the gun's holster. He carries a Machete for his melee weapon. He slips it under his belt. He also has tied a Tommy Gun to his back, and slapped a good amount of bullets into a sling across his shoulder. His service radio is tied to his lower back.
Genetics: Houdini, Armored Shell 2 , EVE saver 2, Sports Boost, Metabolic EVE.
Additional Information: His slowly regenerating bones, skin, and muscle. Though this was already mentioned. He is also naturally made for teleportation it seems, when his Atoms are rearranged, even if interrupted, they some how end up back in the original spot. Metal Bunny Mask permanently attached to the skin of his face, that might protect him from some blows to the face with a hammer, or maybe, if lucky... a bullet.
History: Grathius is the son of a Russian artist. Grathius was born in Rapture, and he was set out to leave. Grathius always tried experiments with the teleportation plasmids the most, that is why his body is the way it is now. He always thought he could some how make it to the surface that way. Grathius was a fan of the Saturnine for awhile, but he grew out of that phase and went on to being an artist, like his father. He used his art to speak for Ryan, to fight against the rebel Atlas! Ryan had a talk with Grathius once, a deal Grathius couldn't refuse. He was to become a warrior, in Ryan's army! Grathius did so, and continued to paint for Ryan, too. After the Civil war, Grathius stuck around Ryan's general area, feeling safe. He hid when Jack took Ryan down though. When Lamb came along... he was shy at first, since he was a follower of Ryan, but he needed some place better. So he joined Lamb, and eventually came to her beliefs. He is one of those Splicers that draw and paint all over Rapture.
Blade_Runner- Gamma- part one- part two
Last edited by Grathius22; 07-04-2010 at 03:20 AM.
FACTIONS ARE CURRENTLY BEING USED!
CURRENT FACTIONS, UNDER GRATHIUS' BANNER:
Heavy Metal: Heavy Metal is a small band of previous workers of Rapture. Mostly people who were engineers and welders. Their symbol is a raised fist in the middle of a gear. Their founder is to be determined. This faction is currently in active, until a founder is found. Any 'working' Splicer is preferred.
Heavy Metal Banner: (By Beaten with a Rock) http://i767.photobucket.com/albums/x...g?t=1273724329
The Mad Hatters: Consists of previous artists and the like. Their symbol is a top hat upon a skull. The founder of this group is Grathius. This faction is up, running, and joinable. Houdini Splicers are preferred.
Mad Hatter Banner: (By Beaten with a Rock) http://i767.photobucket.com/albums/x...g?t=1273734216
Sister's Protectors: Consists of people who are going to protect the sisters who will work for Grathius. Their symbol is a egg hidden behind a shield. The founder is to be determined. This faction is not joinable until a founder joins this faction. Any Splicers preferred.
Sister's Protectors Banner: (By Beaten with a Rock) http://i767.photobucket.com/albums/x...g?t=1273739827
Factions of Purity
Steel: Pure Human's division. Warriors and soldiers. The ritzy folks.
Copper: Barely spliced Humans. Humans who are hardly spliced. Engineers, workers, and such.
Saturnine: The founder, Chris was a Houdini. He recruits the people in this faction.
The rest of the factions are to be made by the players!
Last edited by Grathius22; 07-04-2010 at 03:21 AM.
Name: Anno Domini
Appearance: Anno is a Caucasian adult who stands an average height of just six feet. His skin is darkened more so by age then sun, and by exposure to heat from welding, to a light-brown tan. There are visible age-spots on his hands, arms and neck, as well as wrinkles in the form of crow's feet below his eyes. His eyes themselves are a dark blue, his hair a graying silvery black. It's somewhat shaggy for his age, with messy bangs hanging into his eyes and locks falling halfway down his neck. Without any lower facial hair, he has a fit build for his age, more slim then he is muscular. The lower part of his body is covered in a large amount of stretch marks and sores.
Apparel: Anno is typically dressed in a long-sleeve cheesecloth shirt, buttons just below the neck fastened. There are visible burn marks on it- stray cinders from work, probably. His trousers are a dark brown and hang loose around his hips, suspended by two leather straps that hang from his shoulders. Patches here and there, it's clearly a piece of work attire, but fits in with his own aged body. Steel-toed leather boots keep his feet safe, laced tight and carefully. He wears a silver wedding ring, on his left hand of course, which has been visibly corroded from wear and tear over the years. He will occasionally don a black denim jacket, collar back and unfastened, when the situation permits. This is because the jacket itself is a product of his handy work, with metal plates riveted into the insides of the chest and back. Because of this, it's quite cumbersome and he often avoids wearing it.
Equipment: His most frequently used piece of equipment is a Service Radio which he uses as a relay for his Security Bots. He adjusts the frequency as necessary, to contact foes or call in his aerial allies. The Radio hangs at his right hip on a belt-loop, a rusty copper color with a bent antenna.
His primary weapon is a Luger P08 pistol which he keeps holstered at his left hip. The pistol features a solid black finish with a hairpin trigger and extended barrel, similar to carbine versions, albeit somewhat shorter. It also employs a small brace mechanism which improves the recoil-operation while reducing the overall stress when firing. The gun fires heavily modified 9mm rounds designed for ricochet off hard surfaces, rounds which Anno himself refers to as "bouncers". He keeps a few spare clips for it in his trouser pockets, or tied to his suspenders.
Fixed in between where the suspenders cross on his back, Anno keeps his melee weapon, a shortened utility crowbar forged from a shockingly resilient metal-alloy. The bar is riddled with copper filaments which are capable of redirecting electric-flow into a small battery located near the base of the weapon; this effect can be reversed to deliver a taser-effect when necessary, by simply reversing its flow back into the weapon. That said, a grip-space is sectioned off by non-conductive tape for safe use.
A First-Aid Kit, a necessity on the battle field, is strapped to his right leg, just below the knee. There is only one, so should he use it, his chances of a second recovery are slim-to-none. Strapped to his left leg are three EVE Hypos. Although he doesn't use many active plasmids, the ADAM withdraws are still withheld by a shot of this simple practical dosage. The burst of stem cells to a selected area is also sometimes effective at sealing open wounds with false tissue.
Genetics: Anno is nearly bare of genetic modifications. He has spliced Sports-Boost tonics, to increase his overall speed and agility, and Headhunter, to improve his accuracy and proficiency with the Luger. The former simply personifies itself as a rigorous flow of enzymes which dissipate lactic acid in his muscles, giving his legs and arms a slightly red tinge when physically engaged. The latter is evident in his eyes, a keen ring around his pupils which responds instinctively to slight movements. His only plasmid of choice is Telekinesis, which is really only evident in the sometimes spastic motion of his hand when the mutation is active.
Additional Information: Anno considers himself somewhat of a beast master. Be this as it is, when the battle permits, he will accompany himself with his own procured Security Bots. He has two, both armed with the typical machine gun set and plated to sufficiently withstand a large degree of damage. His care for detail shows in the advanced set of sensors they use, which not only detect visible enemies, but traces the heat signatures of enemies using Houdini or Natural Camouflage. In this way, they are an extension of his natural eyesight and do what he cannot. A small external radiator on the bots also reduces the length of potential freezing, a permutation he felt was necessary.
History: Anno Domini is a former employee of Fail-Safe, the umbrella corporation which provides Armored Escorts for Ryan Industries and criminal detainment down in Persephone. While on the job, he was a general handy-man, doing his fair share of design and welding where necessary. The wedding ring on his finger is evidence that he was once part of a loving and close relationship, but this is mostly a blur to him. While many were affected by ADAM in the form of visible mutations and insanity, Anno seemed to suffer a sort of accelerated aging, likely due to direct mutation to parts of the brain responsible for the process. As a result, his body resembled that of a man ten years older, and his memory began failing to the point of not recognizing close friends and family. The only consistency in his memory was his work and skills, and once those threatened to fade, he quit, instead applying his abilities to personal defense and combat, fighting back the tide of age with athleticism and violence.
(Hope it's not a problem that I reused the same Bio ^_^ )
Just curious, so is the time period for this sometime like 1970?
I was hoping for a lil' bit of activity at least, in the last 13 hours.
Agreed. I asked around a bit before posting the arena, to see if anyone would be interested at least. Must just be a little inactive for the weekend.
Originally Posted by Grathius22
I have to say I don't think this is gonna catch on. There's already 3 other rolplay threads out there with tons of less guidelines.
People might get into it, but with the demand, I doubt this ones gonna catch on.
I wasn't going to post until I had a decent profile, but having read the comment above, I gotta point out that from what I've seen of the other roleplay threads... well... it's nice to see one that has the rules. I'd much rather be in a roleplay of four or five literate people than twenty single-liners without punctuation.
Just figured I should say not to give up hope - if you build it, they will come Codex is planning on altering her profile from the other thread to join you here as well.
Thanks for the encouragement Arcadia. I'd just really like to see some other folks online. I've been on BioShock roleplay sites in the past, but most of them were so massive with so few players that you couldn't all the same folks on at the same time for more then a few minutes.
I'm glad a few people are into it. Hopefully we'll be able to get a small group going here.
Yeah, to be honest, even if it's just four or five members I'll participate.
Originally Posted by Grathius22
I'm risking being rude, but one line spam is not role play. Its spam with a "purpose," but it is not role play.
Originally Posted by domino29
Grathius, I completely agree with what Arcadia has said above. I shall be altering my profile tomorrow morning, just to round her out for more than just combat. I know there are several people on here who could be quite useful/good for a BioRP without the risk of huge aps and what I often feel is elitism.
Originally Posted by Arcadia
But yes, I shall have a profile up tomorrow for you Looking forwards to seeing this start!
(Sorry, this took me longer than I expected as I've been distracted every five minutes by someone or something today let me know if anything needs fixing.)
Name: Molly MacNeil (Scottish)
Appearance: Molly is 4 foot 10, weighing only 80 pounds. She has long hair of a very dark brown tone and bright, blue-green eyes. Her hair is usually left hanging loose to hide her face. Her skin is naturally pale, but is difficult to see beneath the layers of grime she is usually covered with from crawling about the corridors of Rapture. Though small and skinny, her life-style has demanded she be quick on her feet and strong enough to bear basic weapons and climb over or move debris, so she is a fair amount stronger than she appears. Her body is always covered in cuts, scrapes and bruises, as well as a good number of small scars from her years in hiding.
Apparel: She tends to wear dresses similar to those of the little sisters, though more mature - most of which she has managed to throw together herself from scraps of fabric she finds lying around, making for very patchy but decent clothing. She also wears what was once her older brothers black trench coat, which she refuses to part with, along with his broken and tarnished silver pocket watch. Her shoes had long since been grown out of, and her way of solving this problem was to simply cut the toes out of them, though she is constantly on the lookout for new ones.
Equipment: The only conventional weapon Molly owns is a small pistol, which rarely has any ammo. She more often makes use of those she has put together herself, which include a sling and a makeshift mace built from a baseball on a chain with bits of glass and metal imbedded in its surface. She has become quite good at using them and anything else she can get her hands on to protect herself.
She has a belt of Eve hypos about her hips that she's hidden under her skirt, though how many she has at any given point relies on how often she's had to use it to keep it safe. The irony of needing the Eve to protect the supply itself is not lost on her.
Genetics: Molly hates the plasmids and tonics; one more thing she had picked up from her brother. She also, however, understands their necessity at this point. The only plasmid she uses is Aero Dash, and she has also equipped Natural Camouflage and Eve Saver 2. She is very defensive and is quick to run or hide rather than fight, as her stature makes that an ugly and difficult challenge
Additional Information: Molly was taken among the earlier of the little sisters, and although she underwent a partial portion of the mental conditioning, she was broken out by her brother and two others before implantation. As a result she sees Rapture as they would, but she also knows it's not real. She is constantly on edge because of this but her weak mental state due to stress and splicing does not allow her to break through the conditioning. Her level of awareness of reality is greatly dependent upon her physical state; the more drained or injured she is, the more she loses herself.
History: Molly's parents brought her brother Mirren down to Rapture after having been invited down for their business skills and she was born shortly after their arrival. The two of them disappeared when she was three after they began arguing against some of the issues that had started cropping up, leaving her seventeen-year-old brother to take care of her. When peoples’ daughters started going missing, and Molly herself shortly thereafter, he joined ranks with two other troubled Rapturians to try to find them. He managed to break her free, and they went into hiding for several years. He broke down and started splicing in order to protect her, slowly losing his mind and was eventually caught, leaving her alone. She discovered later that he'd been entered into the protector program, and has since been unable to walk away from a Big Daddy in trouble.
Last edited by Arcadia; 05-09-2010 at 02:41 PM.
Reason: Accidental Time Travel
(Forget altering, I wrote someone new. I'm sorry, but he came to me in a vision and decided it had to be done.)
Name: Asher “Ashes” Kennedy
Appearance: In his youth, Asher was a bit of a heart throb. The long years under the sea spent in almost constant conflict have left his once heart stopping face marred by stress and sheer exhaustion. He has a scar running from his left ear to just below his chin where someone once tried to cut his throat. He almost always has a greying stubble on his face as shaving has just become a chore rather than a responsibility. His short, once black hair is thinning in places and is also turning grey. Despite the fall from grace that he has experienced, Asher still looks like he could take on a tank and win. Standing at 6’4” tall, Ash has kept his body in the shape it needs to be to remain constantly on the run within Rapture’s dog eat dog society. As such, he isn’t very agile nor is he very quiet when it comes to sneaking around. Asher’s eyes are green, and often seem to look through most people rather than view them as being really there. It is hard to tell if he is struggling with some sort of guilt or is simply the kind of person who hates others.
Apparel: Asher’s clothes are the only thing he still possesses that harkens back to Rapture’s good old days. His suit, once very expensive and difficult to get a hold of, is not dusty and torn, but the remarkable thing about it is that he has had to do relatively little repair work to it. The salesman was right when he said it would last him the rest of his life...
Aside from his suit, Asher carries a pair of wing tip shoes, some white spats, a bow tie that looks like it’s never been tied closed around his neck and a pair of silver cufflinks with lapis lazuli gems on them.
Equipment: One very large, bloody, wooden baseball bat signed by who he claims to have been Babe Ruth; one silver shaving razor; a tommy gun; a rusty sniper rifle; a back pack that holds: one water bottle, several EVE vials, a sewing kit, food, money (about $100), and one blue silk scarf the origin of which he will not tell anyone.
Genetics: Asher is relatively unspliced for someone who has survived as long as he has. He only turned to plasmids in the latter days of the civil war, relying on his sheer determination and position within the city to survive. After Ryan’s fall, however, this has left him in a remarkably vulnerable position. As such, the only tonics he has seen fit to splice himself up with are Speed Boost, Wrench Lurker (OOC: for all intents and purposes, let’s just call it “creepy mcthwackerson” tonic) and EVE Saver. The only plasmids he has used are telekinesis (which he uses mostly for pushing people back rather than lifting things up – it’s a very weak version) and decoy.
Additional Information: Asher is very knowledgeable in how the security systems of Rapture are organized. He spent years working at Andrew Ryan and Sullivan’s side and knows most of the access codes to most of the buildings in Rapture. He’s a very valuable asset to have – the big question is who’s side is he really on?
History: Asher came to Rapture after impressing Andrew Ryan with his tenacity. He had been working for the FBI, who had stumbled on the Rapture project, and managed to throw up a cloud of misinformation that wouldn’t settle until long after the initial exodus of people from the surface began. Approaching Ryan on the dock the day that the last boat left New York for Iceland and telling him what he had done before promptly walking away impressed the founder of Rapture so much that he offered him a job then and there. Asher worked side by side with Sullivan in Rapture for many years as the head of the “special” branch of the police. As such, he was in charge of keeping the dissenting element down in later years of the civil war. Asher never really had any problem with that job – most people didn’t know who he was, and he had no idea what happened to them in Persephone. It wasn’t until after Ryan’s fall and Lamb’s subsequent take over that he learned what had transpired between Ryan Industries and Sinclair Solutions, and he offered his support fully and completely to Lamb. He was part of the group of people who ousted Sinclair from the Sinclair Deluxe when Grace Holloway took over Pauper’s Drop.
Awesome to see two new profiles up! I only have one small qualm, which is with Arcadia's. It's a very well written profile, but it says she was one of the earlier sisters to be taken. Her age is fourteen, and the Little Sister program had been in swing by at least 1958. This roleplay takes place sometime after 1968 according to Grathius. Would she be that young?
I don't know, just something I noticed. Don't take it as criticism or anything for what is otherwise a fine profile indeed.
Blast. She is a couple years too young, isn't she? Sorry about that, I've had her character written for something else and have clearly got the dates wrong. Thanks for letting me know I really need to scribble out a time-line for reference... Good to know there's someone here to keep me from my random time-traveling ways
Don't sweat it, it's not big fallacy or anything. I didn't even really flesh out my character's history, mainly because he's recycled.
Originally Posted by Arcadia
Well I suppose I'm out for the night. We'll probably hear from Grathius tomorrow as to when the play will be ready to start. Can't wait!
Last edited by Beaten with a Rock; 05-09-2010 at 02:47 PM.
Hmm.. I didn't expect to start so early. I can't start today, unfortunately. Tomorrow though. Perhaps, if lucky... we'll be able to get another person to join in by then. The story starts tomorrow!
(OOC):*AHEM* So, the story starts... People can still join, and factions can now be created. This is a few days after Lamb... just so every one knows. I've also updated the original post...
(IC): Lamb is dead. That is the news that is spreading like a infection around Rapture. Lamb is dead. What now? Rapture has nearly always been held together by some sort of leader, some one will step in sooner or later, but until then... Splicers are going at each other, fighting to death death once more, Rapture is wild again. You are in your safe location, and you hear a new voice... all over the intercom. A thick Russian accent, a regular Splicer, from what you can tell by his voice. "Ryan died! That was the end of the self! Lamb died! That was the end of the rebirth! What now!? You listen to me. I've tons, upon tons of ADAM to distribute to my followers. Who am I you ask? Your new leader... Grathius. I take this opportunity now, to take charge. Reach me, fellow people of Rapture, I am in Fort Frolic, and I've a gift to the first few to reach me! I know, I know... this sounds ridiculous, but what other choices do you have!? Sit there and wait for your new god!? NO! I'm here now, and I am here for the better of the people... you all know you can't handle a leader, so might as well start now, eh!?".
A strange start... but this 'Grathius' was right... you don't have much of a choice. You either get in a big battle alone, or get in a big battle with other Splicers who are rallying under his banner. Your choice, but Grathius seems like a good one.
Name: Adam James Walker
Appearance: Once a man-about-town in the glory days, Adam looks old and worn now, his grey hair slicked back with grease, his thin, angular face withering before him. Standing at 6 2" and relatively thin, he looks frail to be wandering the streets of Rapture but makes use of crawlspaces, shadows and air-ducts to his advantage.
Apparel: Adam dons black blazer with white piping, beneath it a black jumper with grey chino's and black brogues. He uses his money belt to store cash and ammunition for his pistol and uses various small pouches and others bags he has found to store food and other items in. He wears his old, summer casual as he calls it, his home was flooded at the start of the war.
Equipment: One un-modified revolver, a small toolkit, a small sewing kit to repair damage to his prized outfit, a small knife, a telescope and a small vial of ADAM and EVE for bargaining and bartering purposes.
Genetics: Adam remains un-modified, he is pure in his eyes and has right to respect and rule over his inferiors.
Additional Information: Adam seeks only to bring Rapture back to life, the way it was meant to be, Capitalist and Individualistic. He seeks any like minded, sane individuals to form a sensible plan for reform and recovery and also to barter items.
History: Once CEO of Walker Stability Inc. which performed and managed repairs to Rapture, he was once a man about town, a charming gentleman, thrilled to be in Rapture and an ardent supporter of Ryan and his ideals till the bitter end, replaced Mcdonagh as General Contractor of Rapture and Ryan Industries after his death and took Mcdonagh's council seat.
Last edited by Adam James Walker; 05-12-2010 at 06:57 AM.
(IC) Adam had heard this, Garusith or whatever's broadcast over the PA, and scoffed derisively. He leaned to his right and turned on his phonograph, the Ink Spots slowly began to play, Adam rose slowly to his feet and approached his garden, he resided in a small area of Arcadia, where his plans for recovery could be implemented, he grew food and distilled water which he traded with anyone who offered something. He even took people into shelter should they need it, though he preferred pure humans he still deals with splicers. He gazed out of a window as a Bouncer thumped past, he spat viciously into a nearby pot-plant.
(OOC) Is this how it is done?
Molly was sitting in a corner, facing one of the many windows that lined the walls of Rapture. Her eyes were glazed over, her skin and clothes dirty, and she hugged a thick, black trench coat close to her small body. Her bloodied hand stroked the sticky, dead corpse of a small cat, and she had a very out of place smile on her face.
The rubble that surrounded her looked quite different to her eyes in her tired and delusional state. She had succumbed to the mental conditioning she usually fought so hard to keep at bay. The cat next to her, in her mind, was very much alive - happy and purring. The walls were draped in soft white fabrics, the neon signs outside the window blinking brightly in their consistent rhythm. She hummed to herself, something completely tuneless and mindless. She saw Rapture in this way all the time... only breaking through the illusion with a great amount of effort, but she knew it wasn't real. Usually - not now.
She was waiting for her brother. She was tired, but stubbornly refused to sleep. He always came in at night to tell her a bedtime story... but he was not coming. She scowled for a moment, then stood.
"Goodbye, kitty," Molly waved at the dead creature, turning on the heels of her tattered shoes and skipped aimlessly down the hall. If he was not coming, she would find him herself and give him a piece of her mind. She paused as a voice crackled over the speakers and blinked, troubled. Mr. Ryan was dead? Struggling to understand, her mind simply tossed the notion out the window and she quickly forgot the broadcast, continuing on her way down the hall.
Asher Kennedy was tired, so tired. Lamb was gone, just as Ryan and Fontaine had fallen before her. They'd all tried to build the world they wanted desperately to rule, and all had been left with nothing. They were just corpses to feed the fishes, and Asher appreciated the irony that in trying to transcend humanity they were all nothing more than corpses on the sea floor.
But were any in Rapture still truely human? As he rested his weary body by sliding down a wall, sinking onto the cold and dusty floor calmly as if this were not the place of so many deaths, he couldn't help but note that his hands were trembling violently. ADAM addiction: the bane of Rapture. It was addicting to those who used it as to those who profited from it, and for all the experiance he had at staying out of the way of the conflict, he couldn't help but acknowledge that he was as much a corpse as Ryan, Lamb or Fontaine; a walking shell that lacked any coherent thought or purpose beyond getting his next fix.
This was probably why, as the tired man felt himself about to give up as he sat on the floor of a hallway in Point Prometheus, when the Russian began to speak over the radio he felt as if he were speaking directly to him. Asher needed a fix, and he was lost without the guidance of one of the ruling minds of Rapture. It wouldn't be hard to get to Fort Frolic from Point Prometheus; all he had to do was go down a few levels and hope not to run into some of the more degenerated splicers that had taken to roaming in packs since Lamb's death. He knew he could do it, he'd been taking similar treks for years now.
Struggling to his feet, he stuck his hands in his pockets and began to walk towards the stairwell that he hoped would take him to this promise of ADAM.
(OOC): You're doing it right, Adam
(IC): You all heard this Grathius talk, and you might have ignored him... but he is persistent. After a few hours since the first broadcast, you start hearing a crackling on your service radios (If you have one), and on the service radios in the hands of corpses.
"H-hello!? Can anyone hear me? Curse this radio sy-.... *STATIC* ....-If you can hear me, it's Grathius. Ah yes, I think I've gotten a better connection. Listen up, and listen good. You know you need that ADAM, I've got it too. You just need to waltz down to Fort Frolic, whether you are in Persephone or Adonis, or Hephaestus, you need to get down here. You are probably listening to this, and wondering 'Who's this idiot!?'. Well good sirs and madams, you'll find out more in good time. I've a plan for Rapture. A good one... Not only do we get all the ADAM we want and ever need, we get to see the sun. Far fetched, I know... but you don't realize what is going to happen, very, very soon, I just need s-"
The message ends abruptly, and goes back into static... as if there was more to the message. Some thing in the back of your head nudges at the importance of this. The message cutting off gets you even more interested. He also keeps promising ADAM. Is it true? The surface, was he lying about that? So many promises by so many people. You can hardly tell what is truth any more.
Grawticus just signed off the radio, preaching about the surface and infinite ADAM, what a fool. The splicer's are going mad, even Lamb's followers killed at the smell of it and he's advertising it to all of Rapture, or at least most; but I am fine in my shelter for now, tending to my crops and my machines. Hoping somebody's going to come by. He scoffed again, remembering the broadcast, surface indeed, I'd sooner die down here than go back up there. He caressed the pale skin of his face, but then shook his head.
"I am Rapture, Rapture is me"
"Rise, Rapture Rise, we send our hopes up to the sky..."
He took a swig of water and fumbled around for his lantern, he cast its light around his living area looking for his book. He gave up and walked out of his room across the field where he grew his food and out onto the concourse which ran though Arcadia, he could hear the stream beneath it. He picked up the brush from the floor, dipped it into the tin of white paint next to him and continued to paint his sign.
"Fresh Water and Food, NOT FREE! Armed!
Last edited by Adam James Walker; 05-11-2010 at 07:01 AM.
Molly paused in her rounds. She didn't know where she was, really, but her mind couldn't be bothered to worry about that. She tilted her head to the side at the sounds seemingly originating from someone nearby. He was leaning against a wall, eyes closed as though in sleep, wings spread dramatically from his body. She crept towards the white-clad man, knowing there was something she was supposed to do here, but lacking the necessary tools to do so. She peered at him, and the voice suddenly started up again, causing her to jump back in surprise. She had never heard the angels speak before. She eyed him cautiously - he certainly didn't sound like she imagined an angel would sound.
Fort Frolic? She recognized that name; it was a good place for hide and seek. Her eyes widened at the mention of the sun. She had never seen it, of course, but her brother had, and she remembered the times he used to tell her about it. The sun was in Fort Frolic? She inched closer to the angel, confused.
"Mr. Angel? How do I get there? I want to see the sun." But her inquiry went unnoticed, he was just a normal angel now - silent. She sighed an exaggerated sigh and glanced about, hoping to find something that would help her find her way.
The group moved swiftly down the hall. Each of the four men held a large sack in their arms, two of them were full, with something living. That something squirmed and screamed the whole time. The group continued though, they were on a mission. As they exited the hall, they saw a girl, talking to a corpse. "Mr. Angel? How do I get there? I want to see the sun.". One of the men, some one who had no shoes or shirt, but was wearing a hat, had raised his index finger to his lips. His sack was empty. He approached the girl while she wasn't paying attention. He grabbed her in a hurry, and shoved her into the sack. He closed it up and slung it across his shoulder. He hefted the squirming sack. One more, and they return to Fort Frolic. Their new leader needed Little Sisters, and he was about to get some. Suddenly, the man's service radio start whistling.
Grathius leaned back in his seat, taking a long pull from a glass of beer. "Ahhhh... so good." He said, after the drink. He switched on the radio next to him, took another drink and spoke. The static made a whistle sound, but eventually Grathius pulled through, and made a connection. " You got the girls yet?" He asked, to the receiver.
"One more boss, just like you said." The man had responded.
"Good, good. Make sure you bring them back as soon as possible, and make sure you don't run into their Big Daddies. I need you all back alive." Grathius said, right before he took another long, smooth drink of beer.
"Yes, boss." The man responded, as he watched a colleague grab another girl. Good, we got the final girl. Time to go home. The man thought to himself.
Last edited by Grathius22; 05-11-2010 at 07:45 AM.
Molly screamed a high-pitched, startled scream. She had been looking in the opposite direction and hadn't noticed the men approach. The fear snapped her to a fully conscious state, her mind jumping back to itself. Where was she? What just happened? Splicers? Had they caught her? Why? What could they possibly want with her? ...Alive anyway. But then, questioning splicers never got one anywhere.
Thrashing with all the strength her tired and currently weakened body could handle, the seventeen-year-old tried to loose herself from her bonds. Had they mistaken her for a sister? She supposed it was possible. She knew she slipped into that state at times... she certainly wasn't QUITE small enough for that, but then, splicers weren't the most intelligent of creatures. When they realized she didn't have the slug, though... they wouldn't have use of her anymore. It was only a matter of time unless she could free herself.
Even as she emitted another high-pitched angry scream, she knew it would do little good. All it could possibly do is attract other splicers, which was certainly not in her best interest. Oh, if only she had a more offensive plasmid... or a weapon that would do her some sort of good in this situation. She promised herself if she got free she would find herself a good knife.
(I'm online! Currently reviewing posts, but it's nice to see it's kicked off. PS: Grathius, can I take a shot at making the logo for Heavy Metal?)
He had been wandering for some time now, how long exactly he was not sure, but Asher knew that he was almost to the fort. The streets had been remarkably silent so far, almost too silent. He pulled his tommy gun into his hands, priming it to fire. When Rapture was quiet there was something bad taking place elsewhere.
The fizzle and hiss of a service radio made him jump, wheeling around to look down a side hallway that he had dismissed earlier as empty. A voice echoed down it, bouncing off of the tiles and glass walls with enough force to wake the damned. The sound clicked off suddenly, and Asher almost lowered his gun in satisfaction that the only thing there was the sounds of someone messing with the service radios.
"Mr. Angel?" the voice stopped him dead in his tracks. It was so familiar... so... It couldn't be... "How do I get there? I want to see the sun!"
He turned and blinked. Down yet another adjoining corridor sat a young woman, staring at a corpse as if it held all the secrets of the world. It wasn't a Sister - and he chastised himself for ever having thought of there being a girl to harvest around - but a young woman, lost and alone in this hell hole.
A movement behind her forced him to hide himself, taking cover behind the wall. The woman was screaming, thrashing out at the splicers who carried her. Asher gritted his teeth and forced himself into the alley, blocking the path of the men who held the flailing girl. His gun clicked loudly, announcing that it was fully loaded and ready to shoot.
"You're going to want to drop whatever you've got in those bags, boys, else I'll fill you so full of lead the fish won't want to eat you."
(OOC): Beaten, you can make the logo of Heavy Metal, and even found it. You have to join Grathius before so though, you could start your own faction if you want.
The men looked at Asher... The shirtless leader smiled. "Yeh' wouldn't wanna' do that... Grathius wouldn't stand for 'is boys dead. Especially since we got 'is Sisters." They stare at Asher. The three behind their shirtless leader had drawn pistols out. They couldn't think straight, and unless they soon got an answer, they would fire upon Asher. This might end in a bloody shoot out.
"We need these sisters, for teh' ADAM. Boss says he has a big plan, an' he needs to pay his boys some how." The shirtless man said.
Last edited by Grathius22; 05-11-2010 at 08:05 AM.
Asher smirked. Splicers didn't scare him, but he was aware that he was vastly outnumbered. His left hand let go of the gun, which he kept steadily pointed at the men.
"You're picking up his sisters from day care, then? How kind." He flexed his fingers, pointing them behind the men without raising his hand. A wavering, ghostly version of himself took form, holding the gun much in the same way he was.
"My friend and I here think you should just put them down, walk away and live to tell this "Grathius" that he has to wait to get his kiddie fix." He gestured with his head towards the decoy, which just stood silently watching the splicers. He wasn't sure if the ruse would work, but hopefully it would make them think twice about their chances against him.
Molly froze at the sound of another voice. Yup. She'd really done it now. Perhaps she could take advantage of the situation. Forcibly calming herself, she rummaged around in the folds of cloth until she found her little makeshift mace. Holding the spiked baseball carefully, she twisted herself around in the sack until she could reach the section that was pressed against the mans back. Having located the best spot, she rammed the weapon against his back, the long, jagged pieces of broken glass and metal biting through the cloth easily to find their mark. Her hand did not completely escape damage, but she ignored the pain and continued applying as much pressure as she could. She released the pressure for a moment, pulling the bloodied weapon away from him, and slammed it down again, repeating the action over and over again.
Last edited by Arcadia; 05-11-2010 at 08:22 AM.
Reason: spelling mistake D:
The group of four were surprised. They weren't the smartest. They pointed their guns to the ground. "Ah, I see 'ow 'is gonna' be, Grathius is gonna' getcha' though. He is waitin' out in Fort Frolic... but he knows what he is do-..." The man was interrupted by radio static. The man grunted and picked up his service radio, listening closely for a voice. That Russian voice, yet again, appeared.
"Don't be so rough, Crawly! I insist, I insist! Hand the radio to him, I want to talk to him." Grathius said through the radio. 'Crawly' did what Grathius asked, and handed the radio to Asher, carefully. He wanted to make sure not to have Asher and his friend who can appear from thin air, fire upon them.
"Good sir, I'm sure you heard my broadcast over the PA earlier. Like most, you are probably out for that ADAM fix. I can give you all you want. You just need to follow my boys down to the fort. That's all I ask. More will be explained later... also, your decoy trick doesn't fool me." Grathius spoke simply, like he didn't really care what the outcome of this would be.
Finally, Asher realized, that there was a security camera up in the corner of the roof. Grathius had seen this all happen. "Would you hand back that service radio to Crawly? I need to speak with him. I wish not to cause trouble. I've more important matters. Oh yeah... what might be your name?" Grathius had said.
Grathius switched his microphone off momentarily, and leaned forward in his swivel chair, waiting for a response. The light blue shade of the ocean from his window view was the only light in the room besides a lamp right next to him. How dramatic, Grathius thought to himself. He turned, and filled up his now empty glass with more beer, from a dirty jug. He took a swig and looked up at a poster which was about Sander Cohen. What would you do, Cohen? What would you do?
Crawly shouted, as a makeshift mace was rammed into his back. He dropped the sack. The others raised their guns and aimed at the sack. Crawly cursed, and threw himself backwards. Asher still has the radio. Adam is hanging out in Arcadia. Molly is still in the sack, probably about to escape.
Crawly looked at the sack and shouted, "Fool girl! You attack me, when I'm trying to help you! I'm helping you, Taking you to Grathius, so he can take you all to the surface!". Crawly shouted these words, and Grathius heard them all.
Crawly is to die, Grathius thought to himself, as he switched the radio back on. "Listen up! All of you!"
Last edited by Grathius22; 05-11-2010 at 08:32 AM.
Reason: Something else happened
Asher took the proffered radio, dropping the decoy illusion as he did so.
"The name's Asher. What do you want these girls for anyways? You claim to be sitting on a pile of ADAM and here you are grabbing kids off the street again?" he glared up at the video camera and made sure that Grathius could see his face. "I swore a long time ago that I wouldn't see any more of these girls get killed for someone to monopolize on ADAM."
If Grathius was going to reply, whatever it would have been with, Asher didn't care. He wanted the girls, and for all the control the ADAM craving had on him he had seen what happened to the Sister's when they were used for ADAM. Never again. Never again. It was Crawly's scream that made Asher come to, dropping the radio on the ground and moving forwards amongst the group. He batted forcefully at the guns with his weak telekinesis, hoping desperately against hope to knock the guns from their hands. His fragile mind was focused entirely on the well being of the girls, and he wanted them safe.
"Drop your weapons!" he shouted, aiming the tommy gun at Crawly. Even as Grathius spoke again over the radio, Asher pressed the barrel of the gun the splicer's head and licked his lips threateningly. "Drop. Your. Weapons. And. Let. The. Girls. Go."
His mind registered the talk about the surface, but only vaguely. The man was a splicer, and for all Asher knew it was one of his crazed speeches about nothing.
Anno let out a deep yawn, silent at first, and rough as he exhaled until it ended with an abrupt chain of coughs. He held his sleeve to his mouth until course spittle, a nasty mix of mucus and blood, stained it alongside the other several stains there. A loud klaxon sounded and he turned his head to the flashing red light which accompanied it.
He'd been at work in Hephaestus, currently trying to find just where in a mess of circuitry was the problem that shut off power to several botanical gardens in Arcadia. Lamb had sent Anno down at the start of the week, concerned that without the powered heat lamps the plant life would fail. Ever since he'd been sawing off breaker panels and frying entire yards of cable to weed out the issue.
Spinning a valve clockwise, with some deal of effort, resulted in the klaxon and respective light powering down. When he'd first came here, it was like an orchestra of the damn things. Faulty maintenance on water pressure, electrical neglect, heat loss, all of these problems could be sourced back to a lack of personnel at the Core. When Lamb became top dog, she had a mind to fix some of those problems. Anno was her solution.
Though he couldn't do much about a lot of the flooding, or the nearly completely frozen Wharf in Neptune's Bounty, he was capable of solving most electrical issues. When he'd finally found a loose cable though, he tracked it through the passage and respective crawlspace that led straight through to the Farmer's Market. "G'Damn, I'd take Hephaestus over the Rapture Metro any day." Anno winced in the dull light. Glancing behind him at the well lit (and well heated) ascension of the core, he removed a smothered and crushed packet of cigarettes from his pocket pursed his lips around it. Flicking the tip for a moment, he tapped it a couple of times before it automatically lit.
The resulting hot, bright cherry illuminated the tight space as he began on all fours through the hole. Twenty feet in, he could already feel the cool, oxygenated breeze from the market. He turned up the volume on his radio, which hung from his hip and clanked against the vent walls, only to hear the end of some man speaking. "S'er a ball game on today?" He mumbled as he continued through.
(Edited for Sp)
Last edited by Beaten with a Rock; 05-11-2010 at 08:57 AM.
Grathius twitched, he was annoyed an needed a good bit of ADAM, he whistled. A Little Sister walked in, with a little vial in her hand, full of ADAM. She handed the ADAM vial to Grathius, and he injected it into his system. "Aaaah. ADAM. sweet, sweet ADAM." He didn't care if the radio was on or not. "Asher. Please pick up the radio."
As Asher picked up the radio, Grathius spoke. "You ask what I need the girls for? ADAM of course, and yes... I got a lot of it, it's just that... I need to get a constant supply. To pay my people. You've spliced, I've spliced. We all got that itch for more, and more, and more ADAM. I've got it. I'm not hurting these girls for it either, I'm giving them an offer they can't refuse. I'm taking them to the surface. I've more plans too. I only want to give you a taste of the honey though, not the whole bee hive. You're smart though, I could use you, and you could use the ADAM. Whaddya' say, partner?"
Crawly has the gun still in his face... he grunts. "Listen to the boss... we got a good deal." He said. Crawly is right too, so much ADAM, just waiting.
The three behind Crawly don't have their guns raised, but they are on alert.
Grathius turns in his swivel chair, looking at the Little Sister, still behind him. He pats her head, and shoos her off. He sighs and thinks.
(Grathius, please stop god-modding Asher's actions. I'm supposed to be deciding whether or not he'd pick up the radio >.>)