Jump to content
serce2

Those Who Wake [Open!]

Recommended Posts

Formerly Maschinengeist. Title may change.

dapqd52-f012de40-c0b7-4fbf-8e4c-b268865f

 

Credit to Hydrothrax for the picture above.

 

“Things are not what they used to be, and perhaps they never were. The boundaries between inanimate objects and living organisms, so fundamental to norms of positive science and common sense, shimmer and shatter..." - W. J. Mitchell, talking about On the Animation of the Inorganic (a real person, book, and quote!)

 

Well, here we are again.

 

This is a reboot of Maschinengeist v1, which can be found here. This will be an open RP, although I'm only going to be taking a limited amount of players for the time being as I get back into the swing of DMing.

 

------------

 

The year is 202X and the world's fallen into chaos. The US has been taken over by a fascist government; other countries are slowly succumbing too, one by one. Communication is monitored. Food is expensive. Guards patrol the street in shiny, slick uniforms. There are still pockets of peace, especially out in the rural parts, where the Dictatorship doesn't really bother as long as they provide the appropriate taxes. Still, there are many more riot-torn cities, war zones, and decrepit wastelands.

 

There is, unknown to humans, another intelligent species living on Earth. They are generally called the Lindor. Incredible natural-born engineers, machinists, and architects, they are responsible for a good chunk of humanity's technological progress. Indirectly, they're responsible for virtually every machine built in the human world. Although they have stayed hidden away from human civilization, they are being hunted by an ever-wiser Dictator.

 

With all this in mind, it recently has seemed as though the spread of tyranny has slowed, even stopped.

 

How can this be?

 

The Lindor's machines came to life.

 

-------------

 

Only things with wires and at least a basic computer system can feel and think. This rule might be bent for particularly good characters. Otherwise, anything from a small toy to a great skyscraper can act out of its own volition. Androids also exist, but they're not very common to see in human cities.

 

Most humans are unaware of the existence of both Lindor and sentient machines. However, some clever humans are figuring out the truth, and many machines are being reckless. The Dictatorship is slowly turning its eye on all those strange occurrences...

 

Technology remains about the same as present level, aside from the whole everything-is-sentient thing. Projects currently now ongoing may have finished; for example, planes that are currently experimental are now used regularly in the RP, such as the B-21. Some Lindor settlements might have slightly more advanced or experimental technology.

 

----------

 

As usual, no godmodding, Mary Sues, powerplaying, etc. etc.

 

I'm expecting at least Semi-Lit roleplaying. I'm not gonna expect perfection when I'm nowhere close myself, but please give something other players and I can respond to!

 

I'll be pulling some worldbuilding from Mv1, but this RP won't necessarily follow the events that happened there. I like adjusting the plot to fit the characters and their motivations and skills, so world details may change. The world building isn't hard and unchanging, so feel free to add details!

 

You can play as any of the three species: Human, Lindor, or Machine. Humans are fairly standard, and they can slip in anywhere. Lindor are a very broad group of humanoids--they're all genetically the same species, but can have a lot of different traits due to selective clans and heritages. Machines can be anything already outlined above--anything with wires. There is a soft ban on buildings or anything more massive than a warship.

 

I expect that there will be differences in power between characters. A tank can take a lot more hits than a human child, for instance, but I try to give every character appropriate conflicts, and everyone will have an opportunity to find out and interact with the world.

 

The character sheet below is meant as a rough draft or outline rather than a fully-fleshed out character; I'll be keeping track of characters, of who they are and how they changed, down in Current Information. There's currently no character limit.

 

Name:

Species:

Gender:

Age:

Appearance:

Personality:

History:

Other:

 

 

 

 

Current Information

Information gets added here as the roleplay progresses.

 

Time and Location

 

West Coast, mostly around San Francisco right now. Early Spring, morning, foggy.

 

Characters

 

Humans

Joanna Graham

-An analytical, cold intern at a company that's vying for power. Finds her situation bleak.

-Serce2's character

 

Sash

-Bad boy cowboy. Part of a duo smuggling Lindor to safe places.

-DustyStar's character

 

Lindor

 

Crescent

-A friendly, but sometimes hot-headed Lindor. Part of a duo with Sash

-DustyStar's character

 

Dr. Robin Kingsley

-A mysterious, shady doctor.

-Lycanious's character

 

Inanimate

 

Sunsill

-A sentient, quick to action motorbike.

-Serce2's character

 

Black Mariah

-A powerful, wild pickup truck

-DustyStar's character

 

Blaze

-a mute Blaziken figure, once well-loved.

-Dragonlover2's character

 

Mirage

-an old Mewtwo figure, once well-loved.

-Dragonlover2's character

 

Goliath

-an insect-like security camera, nursed back to health by Robin.

 

Places

 

USA

Starting location.

 

West Coast

-Once called the "Golden Coast" by tourists and a hub of technological innovation, now mostly ruined by industry that sprung up to fill the economy. After all, you can't have tourism if you're constantly warring with random countries. One of the most populated parts of the country.

 

San Francisco

- The starting city.

 

"The Mountains"

-Comprises of the mountainous terrain from the Sierra Nevadas to the Rocky Mountains. Dangerous!

 

 

 

Mentioned

 

The Machine City

-Rumor among the machines. Who knows if it really exists?

 

Edited by serce2

Share this post


Link to post

Whitelist

None at the moment, RP is open.

 

Blacklist

Thaelsan

 

Character Sheet Storage

 

Serce's characters

 

Life's too short not to bring back a fun character:

Name: Joanna Graham "Cracker"

Species: Human

Gender: Female

Age: 27

Appearance: Her face is sharp and cruel-looking, and she has a thin, lanky build. Her hair is straight and clipped short, as is expected for an officer worker who spends time in the public eye. Due to stress, her hair is starting to gray, and her skin is pale from years of living in the dreary fog and smog of San Francisco. Eyes are deep brown. Her common clothing is a simple black jacket with a white long-sleeved shirt underneath, and black dress pants with running shoes.

Personality: Her apprenticeship to a political group has gotten her a little of out her shell, but Joanna doesn't like lots of socialization. She's a pragmatist first and foremost, shaped from her situation. She pushes down her emotions and values logic more, and prefers to solve problems on her own.

History: She works in the PR department for the CP Party, a group based in San Francisco and vying to take over free Central America. Although she can never say it outright and risk her safe position, she has disdain for her boss and their beliefs.

 

Name: Sunsill

Species: Machine, sentient motorcycle

Gender: Goes by he/him, although he has no biological sex.

Age: About 10 years.

Appearance: Base Machine. Anatomy Reference. If no pic exists, well, he's still fairly strange-looking even for an animate machine. Like most Lindor-made motorbikes, Sunsill's wheels are connected by folded-up legs, which can extend at will into clawed feet. His kickstand also serves as legs, but they're tiny and dulled. Although his mirrors may resemble eyes, it's really his lights that serve the function of seeing. His mouth is fairly wide, with sharp serrated teeth inside.

Personality: Calm and easygoing. Sunsill lived a fairly sheltered life for a machine, and it shows. He's fairly confident, and when he's walking on his claws, he walks with a swagger. His response to threats is to mostly talk the opponent out of it; he has no armaments or fighting skill to save him from a fight. Too idealistic, and firm in his beliefs.

History: (I'm going to be honest, this is very hard to fill out while avoiding Certain Plot details. I normally don't like doing this, but: To Be Roleplayed.)



Dragonlover's Characters

 

Name: Mirage

Species: Machine - sentient electronic Mewtwo figure

Gender: male

Age: 14

Appearance: a Jakks Pacific electronic Mewtwo figure wearing a small bandana with the "Mastermind of Mirage Pokémon" logo on it, and Mirage wears it like a scarf

Personality: Mirage misses Emily and wants to see her again, but he wants to help stop the world's downfall before he can go back. He won't hesitate to spend his energy to help the world and fight any machines that hurt him or any friends he might make, either.

History: Long before the world fell into disarray, Mirage was made by the Lindor as a tie-in to a certain TV special (Mastermind of Mirage Pokémon). After his creation, they snuck away, allowing a human named Emily to bring him with her to her house. She had another electronic Mewtwo figure, and it was thrown around so much to the point of its voice box and LED light no longer working. When she soon grew out of Pokémon, the Lindor snuck in, swapped the motherboards so Mirage would keep the memories the other Mewtwo had with Emily, and snuck out, bringing Mirage with them. The Mewtwo's love for Emily manifested in him coming to life, thankfully, only where the Lindor could see him. Since then, Mirage is one of two toys that witnessed the world's downfall and is now trying his best to stop it while not being seen.

Other: Because the motherboards were swapped, Mirage has all the memories that the other Mewtwo made during its time with Emily, including randomly becoming his hypnotized state. Unfortunately, now that he's not with Emily, it doesn't seem like there's a way to revert him back to normal after that. There might be a way, though.

 

Name: Blaze

Species: Machine - sentient electronic Blaziken figure

Gender: male

Age: 14

Appearance: a Jakks Pacific electronic Blaziken figure with a broken left arm and a cast around what's left

Personality: Blaze is a very quiet individual, as he's a mute. He's unsure if he's really important to the machine team, since he can't really defend himself.

History: Before... everything that went wrong with the world, Blaze was made by the Lindor. After his creation, they snuck away, allowing some rowdy humans to bring him with them to their house. They were very rough while playing with him and they broke his left arm. The light in the flame on his right wrist still worked, but not much. It was extremely dim. The sound was low in pitch, as well. He was very weak, and they soon gave him to their cousin, another human named Kat. When she played with him, she accidentally pressed the button and heard the weak sound. She used him a few times, then soon put him in storage, if only because she didn't want to damage him any further. She eventually used Blaze again, but every time she pressed the button, no sound was heard. No light was seen, either. It seems that the batteries corroded while the Blaziken was in storage. Kat still loved playing with him, even if he was permanently a mute. Soon, she fell asleep, and the Lindor snuck in, took Blaze, and snuck back out. Eventually, the Blaziken's love for Kat manifested into him coming to life. Now he's trying his best to help the machine team stop whatever is going on with the world.

Other: When the button on Blaze's head is pressed down, he used to be able to use Growl and Fire Punch at the same time. Because the batteries corroded, these moves no longer activate and Blaze can never be restored to his former glory, aside from a new arm.

 

 

Dustystar's characters

 

Name: Sash

Species: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 20

Appearance: A man with a thin, tall build covered in lean toned muscle. Lavish dark tan skin compliments his narrow but soft face. Thick, frizzy black hair drapes down the center of his back just above his waist. Frizzy bangs cover his dark eyes, one often wonders how he can see so well with that much hair in his face. Most of the time he wears his favorite black muscle shirt with a loose fitting dark jean jacket. A silky silver sash is firmly tied around his waist. Two thick black leather belts hold up his blackish jeans that sag over light gray cowboy boots with intricate silver stitching. You will never see him without his hat and necklace. Broad rimmed black cowboy hat with cottonmouth snakeskin tied around the brim. Two fangs set in resin are hung on a wiry necklace chain that rests on his sternum. 

Personality: Typically silent but not unfriendly towards others. What he lacks in words he makes up for in actions. Strange and quite wild, he has the reckless abandon of a stampede of buffalo. Highly protective of those he loves and trusts he will do whatever it takes to keep them safe. Fearless to the point of being borderline insane he seems unaware of danger. Because of this despite wanting to protective of others he often ends up putting everyone in high risk situations, but he hasn't gotten anyone killed yet. To an stranger his behavior might seem completely idiotic and mindless, but he is resourceful and creative in his problem solving.

History: Grew up on a ranch managing horses for cattle collection. He left at a young age, but never explains why. All you get is a pained expression and dead silence if you ask anything more. Black Mariah has been his partner in crime for a while. An ally to the Lindor, he smuggles them to safe spaces across the country. Adopted Crescent when they found she had no home to return to and has loved her ever since.

Other: Informally adopted Crescent, acts as an older brother figure to her. Has a strange belief that he draws power from his hair and it should never be cut. Will go so far as to collect other peoples hair to draw power from as well. 

 

Name: Crescent

Species: Lindor

Gender: Female

Age: 12

Appearance: A girl with a small frame and slightly translucent pale skin. Silvery-white waist-long fluffy hair is tied in a low ponytail, but some wispy pieces escape framing her face. Almost doll like in size, striking midnight blue eyes are her most prominent feature alongside soft, small pale pink lips. Shimmering black moon tattoos adorn either shoulder complimented by dark gray zentangle patterns that wrap themselves down her arm like snakes, ending sharply at her wrists. She wears a high neck black tank top slightly covered by a dark gray sun dress that fades to white at the bottom. Frilly white lace peeks out from the bottom. Two half moon buttons are sewn at the the base of either strap. She lacks shoes, choosing instead to wear a pair of silver anklets with thin blue beads showing on the outer side. 

Appearance Alt.: Shifting to her more natural form, her eyes become fully black with a hollow white reflection. Her jawline and a large portion of her right side split slightly forming clear lines dividing her face into obvious panels. Pointed, bat-like ears extend from the sides of her head. Her right arm is heavily mutated, long claw like fingers and a hooked thumb branch out from a thin, distorted metallic limb. Left arm is blotchy with unusually long fingernails. Her legs extend past usual human length, extended by metal implements on either leg. Almost raptor-like in build they jot out from her lower thighs, heavy ball and socket joins extending to three long, warped claws at the base of her feet. A tail-like appendage sprouts from the tailbone and can open to become a triangular flap. Massive metallic black wings sprout from her shoulder blades, the flesh of the wing a thin silvery construct. Starting from her lower back, wires connect to the top of the wings and base of her skull. Her voice echoes when speaking.

Personality: The voice of the pair. Being half-raised by Sash she has learned to be quite the rebellious soul. Still a better conversationalist than her silent companion at least. Never afraid to share her opinion on a situation. She hates small talk and idle prattle. Being a child she is still quite naïve and is a bit too quick to trust others. She is an excellent thinker, thinking through problems to every minute little detail. This can backfire on her as she overthinks even the smallest things. She is defensive for those she loves, often experiencing second-hand embarrassment and offence on their behalf. Her overall demeanor is one of curiosity and rugged eloquence. 

History: A mechanical engineer with a talent for dismantling intricate machinery. She was abandoned at a very young age and remembers little of her life before she met Sash. The only thing she knows is she can never return home.

Other: Doesn't like to wear shoes, she finds them irritating. Sash never lets her cut her hair. 

 

Name: Black Mariah

Species: Machine. 1985 Chevrolet K20 4X4 Pickup Truck

Gender: N/A, she/her pronouns

Age: 36

Appearance: A roughed up black pickup truck to the outside worlds eyes. Some rust speckles across her chrome grill and bumper. Scratches criss-cross across her bodice but the paint job still looks nice. Otherwise unassuming.

Appearance Alt: When transformed her wheels turn into thick, muscular black clawed limbs. Heavy black cables twist into a defining bulk of the limbs. Long lizard like digits are plated with metal, ending in shimmering black claws. The grill splits to reveal blunt metal teeth and a winding forked tongue. Her jaw is strong, designed to lock and crush her opponents. Her lights are her main point of sight but she has sensors oh her bumper and front sides for extra sensory ability.

Personality: A wild girl ready to fight at a moments notice. She uses her bulk to her advantage. Likes to go fast and play hard. She can be a bit impatient which gets her and the group into trouble sometimes. Fiercely loyal. She will push herself to the point of blowing a gasket before she gives up.

History: Sash discovered her some time ago. Broken and in need of repairs. He helped save her life and in return she saved his. They have been together for some time racing along the countryside, never in one place for long.

Other: A big fan of music but has terrible taste. Refuses to turn off the radio despite Sash and Crescents protests.

 

 

Lycanious's characters

 

Name: Dr. Robin Kingsley

Species: Lindor

Gender: Gender-fluid, currently ‘he/him’ pronouns.

Age: 30

Appearance - Human Form: Robin has an unusually lithe build with gaunt features, often towering over the average person on the street. He has pale skin and curly, rust-coloured hair that is cut short and combed back to keep it out of his face when working. Due to large, completely blackened eyes he is always seen with either a thick pair of goggles or set of tinted sunglasses to conceal this oddity from others. Robin walks with a pronounced limp, and is often accompanied by an old, wooden cane with a crown-like decoration as its head for support. On the rare occasion he is seen out in public he seems to favour wearing a black coat with a tanned, fur trim and hood, dark pants, and lace-up work shoes. Sometimes the black coat is exchanged for a white lab-coat, if he is commuting to or from his workplace.

Appearance - Natural Form: Robin in his natural form gains an even more spindly appearance, rising a few inches in height due to his unusually long limbs. He sprouts a second pair of arms just below the usual set and large, copper-coloured wings heavily reminiscent of an atlas moth. The atlas moth resemblance is further continued through a set of golden, feathery antennae that sprout from his forehead. According to the rare eyewitness to this form he also gains a considerable amount of soft, fluffy fur around his neck and chest area, though it is difficult to tell due to the fact Robin goes to great lengths to conceal this behind scarves and hooded jackets.

Personality: A disgruntled, somewhat miserable individual that would really rather just be left alone with his business. Has been known to be rather condescending and dismissive towards other people, though seems to harbour a soft spot for the downtrodden and abandoned members of society. Robin prefers to avoid direct confrontation and will usually opt for the path of least resistance if he feels threatened, but is a much snarkier individual when in a more comfortable state of mind. Robin prefers a nocturnal approach to his life, and therefore will often take the night shift at at his current job at the hospital.

History: Arrived in the city a few years ago from London, though the story as to why seems to change between audience members. The general consensus is that he is merely a lonely old man seeking a job in the medical profession that won’t land him on the frontlines of a pointless war somewhere. There are however a few rumours circulating of questionable business practices and experiments that prompted him to flee his home city. Though these rumours often paint a malevolent figure of Robin, there are a sprinkling of kinder ones that suggest he was tending to the medical needs of desperate, otherwise doomed individuals until he was reported for his actions.

Other: Robin is a qualified surgeon, but his current job deals more with the administration side of hospital matters. Is currently on edge and cautious of the security staff for suspected theft of hospital property, though surveillance cameras and inspections of his apartment have yet to pick up any evidence of such.

 

 

Name: Goliath

Species: Machine, security camera

Gender: No gender, but uses male pronouns.

Age: ?? (Suspected to be around 20-30 years old)

Appearance: Similar to this. In his dormant state Goliath resembles a simple security camera designed to be attached to a wall or ceiling. When animated the bulk of the camera casing splits apart to reveal a series of eight spider-like legs that allow for rapid movement from Goliath. The front-most pair is smaller and more dexterous than the three other pairs of limbs, serving more as a set of arms and capable of complex motion. Goliath is capable of climbing up a variety of surfaces and can navigate across most walls and ceilings with an impressive amount of speed and agility. The lens of his camera serves as his eye, and while it can be temporarily sheathed for protection it does leave him functionally blind during the process. Goliath’s sensors are currently in excellent condition, allowing for easy tracking of the presence and movement of organic lifeforms.

Personality: Goliath is a quiet and skittish individual, preferring to avoid drawing attention to himself when possible. He is slow to trust and paranoid about both himself and Robin’s connection with the lindor being discovered. On the rare occasion that Goliath isn’t busy monitoring their surroundings or fretting over the wellbeing of the duo he appears to have a fondness for watching old films or listening to increasingly obscure radio channels.

History: Little is known of Goliath’s early years, other than vague hints that suggest he was created to guard something either very valuable or very dangerous and failed. Robin found him in a mangled state while sifting through the rubble remains of a building several years ago, with all of his limbs detached and the vast majority of his memory wiped. After realising he was sentient the lindor took him home for repairs, and Goliath has stuck by him out of gratitude ever since. Now living in San Francisco with Robin, Goliath spends most of his time monitoring their place of residence while he is away. Occasionally Robin will smuggle Goliath into the hospital or other areas of interest in order to interface with the security system, and it is to this machine’s credit that he has been so far able to slip under the radar in relation to more questionable activities.

Other: Goliath can connect to other devices through various networking systems, and is capable of downloading or transmitting data between himself and other electronic devices. He has been known to communicate with others primarily through this method, sending text and images to known phone numbers or email addresses.

Edited by serce2

Share this post


Link to post

Name: Harker Barnes

Species: Human

Gender: Female

Age: 16

Appearance: Tall redhead with green eyes.

Personality: Quiet, thoughtful

History: To be rped

Other: N/A

Share this post


Link to post

((Hey Tigerstorm, please PM me your character sheet instead of posting it in the main thread. In addition, although the character sheets are for a rough outline of your character, I'd like to see more effort in the sheet. After all, I would like to know what kind of person your character is in order to give them a good story!))

Share this post


Link to post

Posted (edited)

Hi. May I join? If so, are these acceptable? If not, I'm sorry I asked.

 

Name: Mirage

Species: Machine - sentient electronic Mewtwo figure

Gender: male

Age: 14

Appearance: a Jakks Pacific electronic Mewtwo figure wearing a small bandana with the "Mastermind of Mirage Pokémon" logo on it, and Mirage wears it like a scarf

Personality: Mirage misses Emily and wants to see her again, but he wants to help stop the world's downfall before he can go back. He won't hesitate to spend his energy to help the world and fight any machines that hurt him or any friends he might make, either.

History: Long before the world fell into disarray, Mirage was made by the Lindor as a tie-in to a certain TV special (Mastermind of Mirage Pokémon). After his creation, they snuck away, allowing a human named Emily to bring him with her to her house. She had another electronic Mewtwo figure, and it was thrown around so much to the point of its voice box and LED light no longer working. When she soon grew out of Pokémon, the Lindor snuck in, swapped the motherboards so Mirage would keep the memories the other Mewtwo had with Emily, and snuck out, bringing Mirage with them. The Mewtwo's love for Emily manifested in him coming to life, thankfully, only where the Lindor could see him. Since then, Mirage is one of two toys that witnessed the world's downfall and is now trying his best to stop it while not being seen.

Other: Because the motherboards were swapped, Mirage has all the memories that the other Mewtwo made during its time with Emily, including randomly becoming his hypnotized state. Unfortunately, now that he's not with Emily, it doesn't seem like there's a way to revert him back to normal after that. There might be a way, though.

 

Name: Blaze

Species: Machine - sentient electronic Blaziken figure

Gender: male

Age: 14

Appearance: a Jakks Pacific electronic Blaziken figure with a broken left arm and a cast around what's left

Personality: Blaze is a very quiet individual, as he's a mute. He's unsure if he's really important to the machine team, since he can't really defend himself.

History: Before... everything that went wrong with the world, Blaze was made by the Lindor. After his creation, they snuck away, allowing some rowdy humans to bring him with them to their house. They were very rough while playing with him and they broke his left arm. The light in the flame on his right wrist still worked, but not much. It was extremely dim. The sound was low in pitch, as well. He was very weak, and they soon gave him to their cousin, another human named Kat. When she played with him, she accidentally pressed the button and heard the weak sound. She used him a few times, then soon put him in storage, if only because she didn't want to damage him any further. She eventually used Blaze again, but every time she pressed the button, no sound was heard. No light was seen, either. It seems that the batteries corroded while the Blaziken was in storage. Kat still loved playing with him, even if he was permanently a mute. Soon, she fell asleep, and the Lindor snuck in, took Blaze, and snuck back out. Eventually, the Blaziken's love for Kat manifested into him coming to life. Now he's trying his best to help the machine team stop whatever is going on with the world.

Other: When the button on Blaze's head is pressed down, he used to be able to use Growl and Fire Punch at the same time. Because the batteries corroded, these moves no longer activate and Blaze can never be restored to his former glory, aside from a new arm.

Edited by Dragonlover2

Share this post


Link to post

Hi! Sorry I didn't see this until now, I haven't been super active on the forums. I'd love to have you and your characters in the RP, the only issue is right now it's dead. It's been a while since I last revisited this worldbuild, but I can try and get back into the swing of things, if you're alright with a rusty DM.

 

I'll start the RP if one or two other people join.

Share this post


Link to post

Posted (edited)

The Discord is now defunct. You can either DM or post them here, that'll be fine. I meant to avoid the clutter but it's inevitable with forum RPs. I can ask a mod to clean out the thread later if it proves a problem.

Edited by serce2

Share this post


Link to post

Name: Sash

Species: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 20

Appearance: A man with a thin, tall build covered in lean toned muscle. Lavish dark tan skin compliments his narrow but soft face. Thick, frizzy black hair drapes down the center of his back just above his waist. Frizzy bangs cover his dark eyes, one often wonders how he can see so well with that much hair in his face. Most of the time he wears his favorite black muscle shirt with a loose fitting dark jean jacket. A silky silver sash is firmly tied around his waist. Two thick black leather belts hold up his blackish jeans that sag over light gray cowboy boots with intricate silver stitching. You will never see him without his hat and necklace. Broad rimmed black cowboy hat with cottonmouth snakeskin tied around the brim. Two fangs set in resin are hung on a wiry necklace chain that rests on his sternum. 

Personality: Typically silent but not unfriendly towards others. What he lacks in words he makes up for in actions. Strange and quite wild, he has the reckless abandon of a stampede of buffalo. Highly protective of those he loves and trusts he will do whatever it takes to keep them safe. Fearless to the point of being borderline insane he seems unaware of danger. Because of this despite wanting to protective of others he often ends up putting everyone in high risk situations, but he hasn't gotten anyone killed yet. To an stranger his behavior might seem completely idiotic and mindless, but he is resourceful and creative in his problem solving.

History: Grew up on a ranch managing horses for cattle collection. He left at a young age, but never explains why. All you get is a pained expression and dead silence if you ask anything more. Black Mariah has been his partner in crime for a while. An ally to the Lindor, he smuggles them to safe spaces across the country. Adopted Crescent when they found she had no home to return to and has loved her ever since.

Other: Informally adopted Crescent, acts as an older brother figure to her. Has a strange belief that he draws power from his hair and it should never be cut. Will go so far as to collect other peoples hair to draw power from as well. 

 

Name: Crescent

Species: Lindor

Gender: Female

Age: 12

Appearance: A girl with a small frame and slightly translucent pale skin. Silvery-white waist-long fluffy hair is tied in a low ponytail, but some wispy pieces escape framing her face. Almost doll like in size, striking midnight blue eyes are her most prominent feature alongside soft, small pale pink lips. Shimmering black moon tattoos adorn either shoulder complimented by dark gray zentangle patterns that wrap themselves down her arm like snakes, ending sharply at her wrists. She wears a high neck black tank top slightly covered by a dark gray sun dress that fades to white at the bottom. Frilly white lace peeks out from the bottom. Two half moon buttons are sewn at the the base of either strap. She lacks shoes, choosing instead to wear a pair of silver anklets with thin blue beads showing on the outer side. 

Appearance Alt.: Shifting to her more natural form, her eyes become fully black with a hollow white reflection. Her jawline and a large portion of her right side split slightly forming clear lines dividing her face into obvious panels. Pointed, bat-like ears extend from the sides of her head. Her right arm is heavily mutated, long claw like fingers and a hooked thumb branch out from a thin, distorted metallic limb. Left arm is blotchy with unusually long fingernails. Her legs extend past usual human length, extended by metal implements on either leg. Almost raptor-like in build they jot out from her lower thighs, heavy ball and socket joins extending to three long, warped claws at the base of her feet. A tail-like appendage sprouts from the tailbone and can open to become a triangular flap. Massive metallic black wings sprout from her shoulder blades, the flesh of the wing a thin silvery construct. Starting from her lower back, wires connect to the top of the wings and base of her skull. Her voice echoes when speaking.

Personality: The voice of the pair. Being half-raised by Sash she has learned to be quite the rebellious soul. Still a better conversationalist than her silent companion at least. Never afraid to share her opinion on a situation. She hates small talk and idle prattle. Being a child she is still quite naïve and is a bit too quick to trust others. She is an excellent thinker, thinking through problems to every minute little detail. This can backfire on her as she overthinks even the smallest things. She is defensive for those she loves, often experiencing second-hand embarrassment and offence on their behalf. Her overall demeanor is one of curiosity and rugged eloquence. 

History: A mechanical engineer with a talent for dismantling intricate machinery. She was abandoned at a very young age and remembers little of her life before she met Sash. The only thing she knows is she can never return home.

Other: Doesn't like to wear shoes, she finds them irritating. Sash never lets her cut her hair. 

 

Name: Black Mariah

Species: Machine. 1985 Chevrolet K20 4X4 Pickup Truck

Gender: N/A, she/her pronouns

Age: 36

Appearance: A roughed up black pickup truck to the outside worlds eyes. Some rust speckles across her chrome grill and bumper. Scratches criss-cross across her bodice but the paint job still looks nice. Otherwise unassuming.

Appearance Alt: When transformed her wheels turn into thick, muscular black clawed limbs. Heavy black cables twist into a defining bulk of the limbs. Long lizard like digits are plated with metal, ending in shimmering black claws. The grill splits to reveal blunt metal teeth and a winding forked tongue. Her jaw is strong, designed to lock and crush her opponents. Her lights are her main point of sight but she has sensors oh her bumper and front sides for extra sensory ability.

Personality: A wild girl ready to fight at a moments notice. She uses her bulk to her advantage. Likes to go fast and play hard. She can be a bit impatient which gets her and the group into trouble sometimes. Fiercely loyal. She will push herself to the point of blowing a gasket before she gives up.

History: Sash discovered her some time ago. Broken and in need of repairs. He helped save her life and in return she saved his. They have been together for some time racing along the countryside, never in one place for long.

Other: A big fan of music but has terrible taste. Refuses to turn off the radio despite Sash and Crescents protests.

Share this post


Link to post

Posted (edited)

((All of your characters are accepted! They've been added to the opening post. RP begins!

 

Starting location will be in the West Coast, centered around San Francisco. Feel free to scatter your characters around as long as they aren't past the mountains, I'll try to connect them the best I can.))

 

 

He didn't think he'd get this far.

 

Machines do not pant. Most are deathly allergic to water, and panting requires its evaporation. Instead, Sunsill had his fans on full blast, trying his best to breathe out the heat from his overworked engine. In some ways, it looks like panting. But it's not. The motorcycle didn't look down at the black waves of the Bay as he kicked off of the bridge railing and into the fog. Behind him, his pursuers quickly faded into flashes of blue and red as they skidded to a stop at the edge. Sunsill knew the city well, better than the humans ever could, and instead of plunging into a watery death he slid across a sandbar, his brakes unfurling into mechanical legs to grip at the coarse sand. Finally, he could take a break.

 

If he went back, he'd be destroyed and burned at the metaphorical stake, surrounded by holy water and scared human outlookers. He didn't know where the Lindor where, as he was quickly rushed out of the factory, but he had no doubt they would chide at him for "breaking the all-important super secret" and then lock him up. Right. As if they didn't make the choice to sneak him into the city guard where he would be used to terrorize the poor humans. Watch and wait for further instructions, machine, we'll call you when the time's right. Well, he could make a few choices of his own, and his destiny came in the form of a foggy Californian morning, when his human rider stepped away for a few seconds. What followed was a cacophony of yells and the rush of the city as the motorbike booked it the hell out of there. It didn't take long before he zoomed past some other guards, who mistook him for a speeder and quickly got on his heels. They still likely had no idea what even happened; Sunsill wanted to keep it that way.

 

He'd be gone before the fog lifts. Just one little problem: to where? The world wasn't very friendly to a machine that could think for itself. If he wasn't a tool, he was of no use. Except...

 

There was a rumor that some of the older bikes would share among themselves. Of a city over the mountains and past the plains, somewhere beyond the Lindor camps, a place where machines lived freely as equals. It was mostly a hopeful story, more of an inspiration for the end of the Dictatorship, but it was the best goal Sunsill could come up with. The happiest one.

 

First, he'd have to cross the mountains. There wasn't much traffic that went through them that wasn't aerial; he'd heard most of the roads were poorly maintained, and the few tunnels that weren't collapsed were heavily armed by the Dictatorship. A disturbing amount of friends-of-friends-of-friends never made it back from expeditions sent to chart out the area, and sometimes when he was out at the edge of the city on a quiet patrol run he swore he could hear the distant sounds of explosions. He hoped they were Lindor freedom fighters, but from what he knew, they favored subtlety and subterfuge. Even ignoring the question of making it through the firefight, he'd also have to think about fuel; ugh, he didn't even consider it when he ran off. The guards always kept him well-fueled, but he had no idea where to begin finding gasoline on his own. It was highly rationed to humans, and he couldn't just go up to the counter and show a card to the local supply compound.

 

He still had a hundred miles or so to think over this dilemma. Maybe an opportunity will present itself! Sunsill trotted down the criss-crossing sand bars, back onto solid road. He put back his leg-brakes and drove down the residential streets, this time at a reasonable speed. It was still early enough that the side streets were quiet, but the fog was thinning and the other guards could be anywhere.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

 

Joanna Graham walked with her jacket hood up and her head lowered. She couldn't see anyone in this awful fog, but that also meant they couldn't see her. Rows of decrepit office buildings passed by, until she stopped at one that had most of its glass still intact. A careful inspection would reveal shiny blackout curtains on each and every one of those windows, blocking the view inside; however, to the average passerby, it just looked like especially reflective glass. This was the current headquarters of the CP Party, sturdy enough to keep out the rain and quiet enough that the city never investigates. She took a quick glance up and down what little she could see of the street before pushing the door open with her shoulders.

 

It was still just as chilly inside. A tense atmosphere hung over the dark room. Joanna stepped to the nearest wall and knocked in a pattern, and then a flashlights flicked on as she was greeted by a figure with a red six-pointed star on its chest--one of two symbols of the Dictatorship. She didn't panic; the suit was way too out of date to be a current uniform, with gold shoulder pads that went out of style years ago. After a second, the figure lowered its flashlight and removed its helmet.

 

"Morning, Lukas." Joanna called.

 

The man smoothed back his short, crumbled hair and replied, "Maybe knock at the door next time, the stress is gonna kill me."

 

"If anyone sees a woman knocking at a supposedly abandoned building, they'd think something was up. Sorry Luke, at least stress is better than a raid." Joanna briefly put a hand on his shoulder as she headed past to a flight of stairs.

 

"Before you go up there, the boss is more excited than usual. He's a handful. Just thought you should know." Lukas said, before he put his helmet back on and slumped back against his post.

 

Joanna grimaced, thoughts racing across her mind. She was lucky in that she was considered too clever to waste, but every time her boss got "excited", he'd send out everyone he could to capture a pipe dream. After a few moments she settled on a memory of a days ago: a contact in one of the many small military bases had informed them of a possible supply train crossing the mountains in the coming days. No one knew the exact details, but it was suspected that it was bringing new weapons from the rest of the continent. This was what the CP Party desperately wanted. With enough firepower they could leave to the warmer lands down south where the Dictatorship hadn't really bothered to conquer and it was a free-for-all for influence and power.

 

And then it'd just be the same thing all over again, except she'd be somewhere near the top. For however long it would take until the major powers finally got their act together and moved in. Then it goes straight back to hiding and planning. A stupid cycle unbroken so far since the world went to hell twenty years ago.

 

She didn't bother to say any of what she was thinking as she walked into a much better lit room humming with activity. There were world and local maps hung over the walls, filled with circles and sketches as her co-workers tried to triangulate times and locations. There was someone working on stitching an old Dictatorship uniform to match the current models; this one had an eagle with outstretched wings on it, holding half of a globe in its talons. Joanna felt a twinge of sympathy for the seamstress; those uniforms were a lot more detailed than the starred ones.

 

"Joanna! Just in time!"

 

There was her boss, Mr. David Alexander. He used to be a prominent figure in the old tech companies before most of them got taken over by the government. He took two things with him before he fled for his life, critical information and his penchant for greed and power.

 

"Morning Da-" Joanna tried to say.

 

"I need you to try on this uniform. The waist might be a little small but we don't have much time to spare!" David thrust a haphazardly folded heap of black fabric at her arms, which she quickly took.

 

"Sir, I don't think there's any use in giving me an old--"

 

"It's for tonight. Turns out the envoy was coming faster than we expected."

 

Joanna's blood ran cold. It took her years of living under the CP Party to swallow back her horrified expression. She kept her voice as steady as possible as she said, "David, I don't have any combat training and I barely know the mission. I'd just..." This time, she cut herself off on her own.

 

"It's now or never. We got blindsided and half of our men are still up in Portland. If we don't take this now, we might as well just keep living with all the scum out here on the streets."

 

Then, David turned and walked back, as someone's call got his attention.

 

Joanna took a full breath and slowly let her emotions run their course. This was a suicidal mission. So many things would go wrong with this little planning, and hell, she doubted that any amount of scheming could work. The Dictatorship was too well armed, and especially on a cross-mountain trip.

 

That left her only one option: get out while she still could.

 

 

Edited by serce2

Share this post


Link to post

Posted (edited)

Mirage and Blaze are both on the run, trying to hide from the humans. Sure, there are some nice ones, but... with how the world is now, most of the humans are not too kind, all things considered. Those wouldn't take kindly to living figures, so the two are trying their best to avoid being seen.

 

(Sorry it's so short)

Edited by Dragonlover2

Share this post


Link to post

Posted (edited)

     Barely visible in the thick fog that crawled along the lands surface the highway stretched far ahead. It was barren, except for one old black truck screaming down its length. The city like an inky silhouette lingering in the foreground. The sound of the vehicle echoed across its expanse, screeching and wurring as it dodged the occasional piece of debris. Its windows were rolled down partially letting in the freezing air and the obnoxious static of wind buffeting the vehicle. Two figures sat in the front of the truck, the arm of one draped out of the half open window of the front seat. The other seemed to be gesturing directions.


“I think if we keep going down 280 we can make it past the city and over to the mountain pass.” A voice of a young girl yelled out, barely audible over the wind.


“WHAT?” Came a lower male voice, yelling in reply.


“I SAID-….you know what…” The girl tapped the glass on the window twice. It responded, rolling up obediently. She smacked her companion on the shoulder, a gesture suggesting he do the same. He shrugged his shoulders pulling his arm out of the window as it shut. The static sound of the wind faded away into the background.


“Anyway. As I was saying Sash, if we continue down this highway we should be able to make it around the city just fine. We will have to take an exit to get to the mountain pass, but once we are there the rest of the trip should be much easier.” She explained, gesturing with her hand the directions of the road. She looked up and waited for a response. The stoic face of her companion focused forward, glancing around in search of any sudden obstacles.


“Sash are you listening to me?” She smacks him on the shoulder again.


“Yeah, I’m listenin’. You’re the only thing I can hear right now Cress.” He says teasingly. 


She glares at him with a mock pout. 


“Well, if that’s the case then say something so at least I know you are. You know I hate to repeat myself.” She replies indignantly, flicking her head back to focus on the road ahead.


“Aight then. You’re the one with the directions, boss.” He smirks, lightly smacking her shoulder in return.


     A faint giggle escapes her lips. Letting her head fall back to rest on the closed window. So much of her time is spent like this. Idly staring at the road as it disappears past the horizon line. Today she couldn’t see it through the fog that covered the landscape. The reduced visibility put an uncomfortable tightness in her chest. Little niggling thoughts of something attacking them out of the mist or crashing into some unseen object flickered through her thoughts. She inhaled deeply, pushing them to the back of her mind best she could. The sound of sirens could be heard somewhere far away. The screeching of tires against asphalt. The loud heaving of air through intake vents. She winced away from the distant sound. Sash could not hear this, she knew, it was her burden to bear alone. The windows and wind weren’t enough to stop the vibrations of sound echoing through the valley. These sounds were for her terribly sensitive ears only to hear. 


      Sash must have sensed her unease. She saw from the corner of her eye him reach down and flick on the radio. These were desperate times indeed. The moment that radio turns on you are in for the worst track’s music has to offer. She rolled her head back awaiting the inevitable. 


      As if on que some obscure metal band began to play. Sash’s hand snapped back to the radio console to turn it down, only winning out for a second before the volume ramped itself back up again. It sounded like a boombox on a roller coaster. The soundwaves came crashing into her ears like an out of tune symphony before a concert. The sheer volume of it all threw her out her of her thoughts as she turned to the battle at hand in agitation. The truck did not give up easily. 


“Mariah could you play something else please? Jazz perhaps?” She hoped the suggestion might encourage the moody vehicle to change channels. 


“What’s wrong with…that funky music…little…lady?” A choppy reply came from static pieces of the radio. The vehicle had an interesting way of speaking. Mariah would flip between channels so fast sometimes she couldn’t even understand it. She considered giving her a voice module, but decided against it, fearing what verbal carnage the black Machine might commit with such capabilities.


“You call that music?” She retorted, smirking at the radio console. Sash finally succeeded in turning the volume down to a reasonable decibel. The truck stayed silent for a while before fashioning a reply.


“You can’t stop rock and roll…pretty girl! But...Just because...you asked so...nicely."” Mariah replied. Then flipped to a peppy jazz number. She recognized it as If Swing Goes I Go Too from Fred Astaire. Snorting a giggle she flopped her head back on the seat. There wasn’t much on the radios these days. A lot of her music knowledge came from the back of stolen records and CD cases. She was always surprised to find something she recognized playing on the air. Sometimes she wondered if the Machine searched for them deliberately.


      She let her gaze drift to the side as the dark silhouette of the city passed by. The noise of the radio did little to mask the sounds, but she was grateful for the distraction nonetheless. Sash focused on the road ahead, fingers rhythmically tapping on the steering wheel. The truck sputtered a bit as they swerved slightly to dodge some splintered lumber on the road. The tired sound of the truck made it obvious they would have to refuel soon.

Edited by DustyStar

Share this post


Link to post

Posted (edited)

It had been a long and dismal night for Dr. Robin Kingsley, as was typical for most of his nights since moving to the West Coast. Barely an hour into his shift an emergency situation had demanded the attention of a good portion of the hospital staff, curtesy of a brawl that had broken out a few streets down from the building. Robin wasn’t certain on the details as to who was involved or why, only that the incident had flooded their available beds with several innocent bystanders and two very rich, very irate individuals who claimed to be highly respectable members of society and demanded to be treated as such. If Robin had to wager a bet, he would have guessed some sort of food-related raid that went horribly awry had occurred. Food was getting expensive after all.

 

For a brief moment, thoughts on the pricing of food made him wonder whether it was a good idea to be munching into an apple as he walked back home from his shift. The street he was currently wandering down was usually barren at this time in the morning, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t being watched in some format. And Robin couldn’t deny that he looked to be easy pickings at a glance, given that he was a lone individual with a noticeable limp. Almost idly he tightened his grip on the ornate walking cane he was using to steady himself, reassuring himself of its hefty weight should anyone approach.

 

He felt his phone vibrate in his chest pocket, and Robin scowled as he glanced between the half-eaten fruit in one hand and the cane in the other. Using only one set of arms was infuriating, and it often made him wonder how humans always seemed to juggle things so well. Taking two more big bites of the apple Robin then tossed it aside and fished around in the pocket of his jacket until he was able to withdraw an old and battered smartphone from within. The screen was cracked in several places, but Robin was still able to make out the name ‘Goliath’ as part of the preview message that now graced its screen. He snorted a little as he unlocked the phone screen to read it in full, his head tilting in a manner that suggested an eye roll beneath his sunglasses. Robin’s brow furled as he squinted down at the screen, said sunglasses making it difficult to read the contents, but he knew better than to risk taking them off even if he could sense no one else currently walking down the street.

 

‘Your next appointment has been cancelled.’

 

“Has? Or should be?”

 

Grunted the man, eyebrow arching. At the same time he made a show of tapping at one of the earbuds currently wedged into his ear, as if to adjust the tiny microphone attached further down to the cord stuck into his phone. Not that he needed to speak into the microphone to be heard by his contact of course, but it made it much easier to convince people they were merely hearing a one-sided conversation on his phone this way.

 

‘Should be.’

 

Came a reply on the phone a moment later, prompting the man to suck the air in through his teeth to consider for a moment before shaking his head in defiance. A slight twitch from beneath the hood of his jacket followed, as the being that had caused it fidgeted in disapproval.

 

“That time of the year again for you, is it? Why Goliath?”

 

He mused under breath, trying to change the topic of conversation. ‘Goliath’ appeared to be the latest change in identity for his companion, a phenomena that occurred on average about two to four times a year. Sometimes it was more if the odd little machine was feeling particularly jittery about something. Robin had long since given up trying to convince him to choose a name and stick with it, as the machine just didn’t seem capable of preventing such behaviour. And after a while it was easy enough to pick up on the pattern of spider-related aliases and adapt anyway.

 

‘Yes. Sorry. There is a species of tarantula called the Goliath birdeater.’

 

Right, that made sense. It was that same sort of logic that lead to Goliath addressing him as ‘Atlas’ whenever he felt the need for a code name of some sort. Another oddity that Robin had just learned to roll with after knowing Goliath for several years. Robin hummed in thought over the name, before spotting the apology wedged between the machine’s answers and rolling his eyes again.

 

“S’fine. Goliath’s a nice name anyway.”

 

An icon of a smiling face answered them, but Robin could tell that Goliath was still worked up over something from the way he shifted about beneath their hood. Though Robin was more or less used to smuggling him about the city in this manner it still made for an unpleasant sensation having numerous spindly, pointy legs digging into his scalp and pinching at his hair, and after a moment he grunted for the little machine to settle back down.

 

“We’ll be fine, just a checkup. 5 minutes at most I reckon.”

 

Goliath was silent and still after that. At the back of his mind a mild concern settled into Robin’s thoughts, but he soon shook it off and switched his concentration back towards the still-empty streets before him. Goliath worried about every ‘appointment’ Robin scheduled after all, so there was little reason to think there was anything more harrowing than usual about the upcoming encounter. All Robin had to do was check a few readings, maybe reattach a wire or two, and then his patient would be out of sight and out of mind for the next few months.

 

Adjusting the satchel around his shoulders, Robin did his best to ease out some of the tension that was gathering in them and quickened his pace down the streets of the city.

Edited by Lycanious

Share this post


Link to post

  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    No registered users viewing this page.