Posted September 2, 2020 (edited) Formerly Maschinengeist. Title may change. 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. Fond of tarantulas, and named themselves after the Goliath Bird-Eater species. 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 June 7, 2022 by serce2 Share this post Link to post
Posted September 2, 2020 (edited) 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 April 27, 2021 by serce2 Share this post Link to post
Posted September 3, 2020 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
Posted September 4, 2020 ((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 April 6, 2021 (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 April 24, 2021 by Dragonlover2 Share this post Link to post
Posted April 13, 2021 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 April 13, 2021 (edited) I don't mind. Edited April 14, 2021 by Dragonlover2 Share this post Link to post
Posted April 17, 2021 I'm down to join. Do you still want the sheets posted in the Discord? Share this post Link to post
Posted April 17, 2021 (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 April 17, 2021 by serce2 Share this post Link to post
Posted April 19, 2021 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 April 24, 2021 (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 April 24, 2021 by serce2 Share this post Link to post
Posted April 24, 2021 (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 April 24, 2021 by Dragonlover2 Share this post Link to post
Posted April 26, 2021 (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 April 26, 2021 by DustyStar Share this post Link to post
Posted April 28, 2021 (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 bird eater. 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 check-up. 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 August 28, 2021 by Lycanious Changing to the blue Courier New font for Goliath, just for consistency. Share this post Link to post
Posted June 24, 2021 (edited) The early morning light cast a dreary two-tone silhouette of the city as they approached it. Tall black buildings stretching up into the sky like rising obelisks through the fog. Their dismal, towering forms fading away past the first set of visible buildings. They had been driving for what felt like ages. Reading the ill-maintained highway signs passing overhead their desired exit was just short of a mile away and the exit into the city was rapidly approaching. If they kept going they could make it to the mountain pass safely without a hitch. Just then the truck stopped forcefully. The sudden jolt sending the two passengers forward with a heave. They threw their arms forward catching hold of the dashboard right as the locks on the belts engaged before they could be sent through the windshield. Slapping back against the trucks seats they blankly stared forward at the empty highway. Crescent sat up slowly, surveying the area around her the best she could. There was no rubble or wildlife visible to warrant such a reaction. She looked over at her brother who was staring down at the console cursing underneath his breath. So it couldn't have been him pushing the break. The truck was oddly silent. "Mariah, what's wrong?" She inquired. The machine did not reply. "Mariah?" She asked again with concern in her voice. For a moment it was silent before the radio flickered on. At first the air was filled with nothing but crackling static before a single word could be heard. "Tired." Tired? You have to be kidding. All this fuss because the infernal vehicle needed a break. Sash forcefully pounded the steering wheel. "If 'ya needed a break 'ya could've told us so." He growled. "Agreed. Such sudden action is unnecessary Mariah. Not only that, but dangerous as well. You could have skid-" Crescent began to lecture before being interrupted by more broken static. "Thirsty." Came another word from the radio. Crescent rolled her eyes. She knew the truck needed to refuel but she didn't think it would be this soon. Fuel was kept under lock and key these days, any fuel found outside of a highly secured compound had to be sold underhand or be stolen from other vehicles. There being a lack of any broken down vehicles in the immediate area that left them with only one other option. One that was both dangerous and unpleasant. "So how do we get in?" Sash said flatly while glaring out the side window at the city nearby. To get fuel you had to be part of whatever club was controlling the compounds. There were so many and power shifted so often no amount of clever disguise or forgery could be maintained for long. Unless you knew where to look. Crescent pulled her hair out of her face and took off her seatbelt, knocking on the window for it to open. It rolled down obediently as she hung her upper body out and listened. The sounds of the coast filled her senses. The sound of purring engines, the sound of angry voices, the sound of rushing water, the rhythmic tapping of a cane on concrete. Honing in on the sound of ambulance sirens she pinpointed the vehicles location like a radar. "Most cities are too well surveyed to take what we need from any random car. We have to find a warehouse of some sort. They usually keep plenty of fuel around government buildings or hospitals. If we can find either one, we might be able to get something. It sounds like the nearest hospital is just 30 minutes from here." She announced into the damp, chilly morning air. "Seems reasonable. Think you could fake a broken arm or something?" Sash smirked. "Easily." She replied, plopping back down into her seat. "Alright then. Up and at em' Mariah, lets go get you a drink." Sash said slapping the steering wheel. The truck was all too eager to start at the mention of a potential meal. Revving up and taking off like nothing was wrong before. Both passengers sighed in irritation. ____________ The cities were usually well guarded. As a practical measure they frequently changed the trucks license plates to match the area they were in so they wouldn't be seen as suspicious. The usual scheme was to pretend they got caught up in some crossfire and are only now getting back to their residence. They were prepared for a confrontation though. Getting in and out of places quick and mostly undetected was their job after all. Lucky for them though, it seemed the guards were preoccupied with another matter as they came speeding down the bridge after some motorcycle. More than happy to be ignored they turned off into one of the residential areas as soon as they could. The streets were dimly lit and, thankfully, empty. Sash gripped the steering wheel firmly as they slowly crawled down the residential streets. The lights from the dingy black pickup truck shone on a few feet in front of them but did little to aid in visibility against the morning fog. "The hospital should be anywhere around here." Crescent said quietly. She knew it was unnecessary to speak so softly inside the vehicle, but the loud growling of Mariah's starving engines echoed off the nearby buildings bringing more attention to them than what she was comfortable with. Despite the poor lighting she saw a figure coming down the sidewalk in the distance. It made her chest tighten as the thought of some guard shooting at them came to mind. She clenched the car door and nervously looked on towards the figure. As they got closer she began to see the figure was an older gentleman holding a heavy cane looking down at his smartphone. Thankfully not an armed guard. Perhaps he was a local. "Sash, ask him where the hospital is." Crescent said quickly. "Why? We will find it eventually if we keep drivin'-" Sash began to argue. "This way is faster. Just do it!" She interrupted. "What if he's a guard or reports us or somethin'?" He asked. "Does he look armed to you? Just ask for directions! We can drive away if he tries anything." She retorted. Crescent flopped herself onto the seat, body slightly tilted so she could be seen out the window. Quickly her face began to shift slightly, the usual blush color of her light features turning to purples and grays making her look flushed and ill. She shrugged her left arm hard and with a mechanical pop her shoulder dislocated and took on a similar color scheme to her face. She lay there looking weak and beaten in the passengers seat. She tilted her head up and closed her eyes. "Now hurry, I hate to stay like this for long." She hissed. "Fine, fine." He hissed back. Slowly they approached the man before coming to a stop just a few feet from where he was. The window rolled down with a low screech. Reluctantly, Sash poked his head out of the window leaning toward the sidewalk. "'Scuse' me sir? You know where the hospital is?" He shouted in the mans direction. "My sister...she's uh...awfully hurt." He said, flicking his head over to gesture towards the passenger seat where Crescent lay still. Edited March 3, 2022 by DustyStar Share this post Link to post
Posted August 28, 2021 As they continued their stroll to this evening’s patient, Robin kept a firm eye to his screen in expectation of a sudden warning from their security camera companion. Goliath had thankfully drifted into chatter that was more idle at this point in time, now adopting the role of an old colleague that was reminiscing about his favourite 'golden-era' movies. Robin occasionally tapped out a short reply to his musings, both playing his part in a two-way conversation but also, admittedly, a little curious as to what exactly an anxiety-riddled sentient security camera considered its favourite film noir film to be. He was half-way through typing out his own answer to said question when a new message interrupted his train of thought. There is a large vehicle following us. Two individuals within. I do not recognise their biometric scan data. “...Noted, thank you.” Mumbled the doctor, pressing his lips into a tight grimace as he processed the latest message from the jittery security device. They had been half-tuned into the distant rumble of an engine, but it was only now did they realise it had been lingering in the area for some time. A patrol group of some kind? Another message then spawned beneath the latest warning, prompting a quirk from their eyebrow. Radio signals detected. Could have a lindor device on board. The message remained on his screen for several seconds, long enough for Robin to read it thrice, before Goliath opted to erase both it and the previous one. Robin however barely batted an eyelid at this behaviour, knowing that the little machine preferred not to leave references to the lindor lying around to be found later. Humming in thought, Robin tore his pitch-black eyes from the screen and finally looked up to acknowledge the approaching vehicle. The lights from a black pick-up truck greeted his line of sight, prompting a squint and a groan despite his sunglasses blocking out a decent amount of the light. The truck came to a stop a few feet away from them, though Robin was sure to shuffle back an extra step or three once it did. He eyed the machine warily, his fingers tapping in an uncertain manner along the top of his cane as he again reminded himself of its usefulness as a blunt weapon if need-be. At least at a glance, there wasn’t any signage or insignia that suggested the truck belonged to a patrol group or local group vying for power over the city. It didn’t prevent Robin from shifting into a defensive stance all the same though as the window rolled down and a younger man poked his head out to speak. “The hospital?” Grunted the doctor, twitching his head in a manner that wavered between intrigue and uncertainty over the man’s reasoning. “Why? What happened?” He spoke shortly and sharply, not quite dismissing the individual before him but making a clear indication that he didn’t really want to be associated with these unknown visitors without an indication as to what they had been up to. Beneath his hood Goliath twitched and several beeps from his phone indicated that the device was fretting over something. A request to bolt away from the vehicle and hide before any patrol guards came snooping around for ID, was Robin’s theory. At the mention of a sister the doctor leaned slightly to the side and now concentrated on the figure beside the man. “The Hospital is close, a few streets from here. But I wouldn’t take her there. Unless either of you are a lot richer than you look she just won’t be seen to.” He scanned over her features once more, brow furrowing as he tried to make a quick assessment of what was wrong from sight alone. He then glanced up and down the street, searching for any hint that their group was being monitored before continuing. Chewing at his lip, he found himself torn between dismissing the pair for his own safety and a rising desire to help them. Robin shuffled a few steps closer, eventually tapping at the car door with his cane as an indication that he wanted one of them to open it. “...Look, is there a first aid kit in there somewhere? I’m a doctor. I might be able to help.” As Robin spoke to the man, Goliath had taken the initiative to continue surveying the surrounding area for any signs of an ambush or unwanted witness. Sirens were starting to warble in the distance, not yet close enough to be of concern but scattered enough to remind the camera of their sheer number should they decide to hone in on anyone tonight. The aforementioned signal, lindor in origin, was also much stronger now that Robin was beside the vehicle. Several possibilities began to scroll through Goliath’s processing systems, ranging from the theory that both individuals within were lindor refugees to the idea that they were patrol guards in disguise and had commandeered some sort of scrap of technology to experiment on at a later date. Hello hello? Anyone on this frequency? Ventured Goliath, privately transmitting his ‘voice’ to said radio frequency as the organics conversed amongst themselves. Do you require any assistance? Share this post Link to post
Posted August 31, 2021 (edited) Mirage and Blaze are still running, trying to get as far away from the humans as they possibly can. Unfortunately, Blaze ends up running off a cliff because he didn’t watch where he was going. "Hang on! Psychic!" Mirage exclaims, using Psychic to try and stop Blaze from falling to his watery doom. It works, and the Blaziken figure is back on dry land. Edited July 26, 2022 by Dragonlover2 Share this post Link to post
Posted March 3, 2022 Understandably, the man stepped back with an obvious suspicion of Sash’s inquiry. This eased the tense edge that was building in Sash’s stomach. If the man was nervous then it’s a good bet he doesn’t work for any of the patrol forces of the city. The question of what exactly happened gave him pause. Crescent hadn’t given him any direction beforehand on what to say and if he was being honest he didn’t really think they would ever end up at a point where they needed to explain it anyway. He looked at her for any sort of suggestion, but she lay there silently with her eyes softly closed. Somewhere inside him he swore he could feel her rising irritation with his hesitance. He turned back to the man, trying to keep his face as neutral as possible while he racked his brain for a reasonable explanation. “She uh…well…we stopped at the side of the road to change a tire. I had a spare in the back, and she insisted on grabbing it. I told ‘er not to, but by the time I got ‘round to getting it she was already in the back trying to take it out ‘erself. She ended up falling out of the truck an’ the tire fell straight on top of her. Dislocated ‘er arm and whatever else she managed to break. Bit of a dunce, ya know?” He heard Crescent whisper almost inaudibly beside him. “I will literally strangle you.” He bit his lip to suppress a chuckle. The man insisted she not be taken to the hospital in fear that they wouldn’t be able to afford it, to which Sash waved his hand back and forth dismissively. “It ain’t that much of a problem, really-“ He started before the man looked around and took a few steps closer to their vehicle giving it a soft tap with his cane. A sharp surge of uncertainty rose into his gut when the man said he was a doctor, and he was honestly going to try and help. He bit his lip even harder. This was not going according to plan. Sash looked back at Crescent for a moment of quick contemplation. He could just brush the guy off, saying they really need to go to the hospital, but assuming this guy works there, it would be kind of pointless, wouldn’t it? But how long would it take for a medical professional to realize she hadn’t really broken her arm? I mean, she really does look banged up and she sells it well without a doubt…could he maybe convince the guy that she needs to be taken to the hospital if he lets him look her over? Maybe? Looking back at the doctor outside of the vehicle he gave a short nod as he tentatively reached over his seat for the back door handle, giving it a sharp jerk as the door popped open slightly. Sash returned his gaze to Crescents body as she lay there limply on the seat, her dislocated arm propped up against the center console of the truck. Silently hoping this would all turn out somehow, he gave her a soft nudge and cleared his throat. “Hey, uh, Cress…got a doctor ‘ere to see you.” Her eyes softly fluttered open as she inhaled with a sharp gasp of pain. Knowing her arm was actually dislocated partially made Sash wince at the sound. She looked at him for a brief second, something closer to a look of irritated disdain, before turning her bleary gaze over to the doctor. “Shouldn’t we be at the hospital?” She said, her voice tainted by a rasp of feigned exhaustion. As Crescent engaged with the doctor a peculiar movement caught Sash’s eye. The dials on the truck’s dashboard used to change stations were slowly twisting back and forth. He furrowed his brow in confusion as he watched the radio display flicker between frequencies before finally landing on one. Curiously the dials still moved. The radio was on but no sound was coming from the speakers, not even any static. He slowly reached over to mess with the audio dial, turning it up to see what would happen but no sound came through. He reached for the station dial but the moment his fingers brushed the dial it spun out of his grip. “What are you doing Mariah?” Sash whispered under his breath. The tired grumbling of Mariah’s engine was all she had to listen to outside of the hideous mutterings of the organics inside of her. She was getting bored fast, but the promise of fuel kept her quiet. She knew it could take a while to find it on the fly like this when they went out unprepared like they did. While she idled she flicked her way through radio station after radio station to pass the time. As the guy on the street approached her though, the familiar resonance of a Lindor signal passed through her sensors. It made her curious, as he didn’t seem to have any machines on or around him. She kept her antenna tuned to the signal shifting around to closer radio frequencies to check for any communications but found none, although it wasn’t long before someone called out to her across the frequency. Her voice burst forth in loud waves of raspy static across the channel. Hey there, honey. Nice to meet ‘cha. Assistance? Well, we’re in need of some refuelin’. Gotta nab some gas, Ya’ know? Before giving the other machine enough time to reply, she interrupted them with a question. Now where might you be hidin’? I don’t see any machines ‘round ‘ere. Share this post Link to post
Posted June 7, 2022 (edited) ((hello yes I have been gone and it is entirely my fault. this may not revitalize the roleplay, and feel free to keep up the interaction between Sash, Crescent, Mariah, and Robin and Goliath going! Recently have been struck with inspiration to write more stuff for Joanna and Sunsill + the world.)) Joanna closed her eyes as the cool, humid air of the streets hit her. This was nice. Air was still one of the few things that citizens could enjoy; surprisingly, most of the factories were moved away from the city. Supposedly they were prison camps, using the forced labor of anyone who broke a single infraction of the Dictatorship (which very often changed on a whim). If that were true, then it would make it much harder for convicts to escape and hide among the local populace, or for locals to plan a prison breakout. Much harder to transport goods to the city, though. Which might be why the envoys are so crucial. Back to the matter at hand, Joanna found herself stuck at a dead end. If she was to just... refuse to go, any support the CP Party (or remnants of) might have in hiding her from patrols and raids will evaporate, and David would very likely sicc an assassin on her. Mostly just to get the uniform back. She still had it on underneath her jacket. It was a bit too small, compressing her chest. She couldn't really run in this for long periods of time. The uniform would be difficult to modify further, as it was comprised of some strange metal fabric that held a hard shape. If she was to get out of here, her first priority was a ride. Joanna turned her head as a parked motorcycle caught her attention out of the corner of the eye. "No." She hissed quietly to herself. "That thing probably has a tracker in it, and I'd be especially wanted for taking one of those." Her next thought was that there was a guard nearby, and that she should go alert the others. Then, she shrugged. She likely won't walk in again tomorrow anyways, so a raid now could go in her favor. A deeper, darker instinct told her she could just turn them in herself and maybe get rewarded for the trouble. It risked the guard deciding to arrest her anyways, but it was her likeliest chance to walk away clean. But she couldn't do so while wearing a stolen suit, and besides, she cared enough about Lukas and a few of the others to tip off a guard while they're still in the building. In both cases, she'd have to go home, change, and wait, and perhaps the embers of an idea would spark into something more concrete. On her way to her apartment, she noticed someone in a truck talking to a figure on the street. Joanna rolled her eyes. If they're doing a drug deal, they're making it as suspicious as possible, especially with the guard motorcycle around. -------- Sunsill froze into his unassuming inanimate form when he saw the woman approach down the street. Thankfully she was too busy looking down in thought to notice him, except for a brief double take when she passed by. The motorcycle risked craning his neck a bit to follow her with his light-eyes. She was definitely wearing guard-pants, and the angular shoulder pads of a guard-shirt stood out to him underneath a brown jacket. Sunsill had learned long ago to tell apart ""friend"" from foe in disguise from his years with the City Guard. Maybe she'd lead him to fuel for the long journey ahead? Or maybe she's heading toward a tunnel out of town--she's heading away from the city center, after all! Sunsill unlocked his brakes and slowly crawled forward with his landing-gear-feet. This was his second big decision of the day, or ever. Thinking for himself was hard. So many things to consider, so many different choices. But he didn't want to go back to being told what to do. Freedom felt nice, like the sunlight beating down in the evening. A third decision came when he picked up a radio frequency asking if anyone was there and if they require assistance. It was on a frequency the city did not use, as it was too far longwave for their sensors and transmitters. Lindor from the Mountains. Sunsill fumbled a bit with his message back. His transmitter was relatively poor, meant mostly for in-person conversing. Long-range continental transmitters weren't put into any of the machines he knew, save for the last helicopter back at base. The motorcycle distantly remembered it discussing those channels in the days before it crashed in the mountains. "Better not to listen to trans-con frequencies. There are "voices" that do not belong to any machine that I know of, any Lindor or Human. They speak of--" The helicopter couldn't exactly shake its head, but it sent a few emoticons getting the movement across. "Whatever can broadcast that far has obscenely powerful antennae. I try not to think of what is beyond the mountains." Sunsill's own transmission was static-ky and full of stammering. "Motor Unit... er... 7n1. Reporting. From San Francisco. Looking for instructions to make it to a Lindor Camp." Wait, ****, he probably shouldn't have directly identified the Lindor, even if this was a frequency unused by the Dictatorship. A random civilian that cobbled together a radio could listen in. He added that to the bucket list he was making of "things I'm definitely going to be reprimanded and re-programmed for". ((If there's still any interest to keep with the plot, I'll be trying to wrap Joanna's story into Sunsill's over the next few paragraphs, which could be a good way to interact. By in-game evening, Joanna and Sunsill will hopefully be heading into the mountains.)) Edited June 7, 2022 by serce2 Share this post Link to post
Posted June 8, 2022 (edited) Goliath had to supress the urge to twitch in alarm when not one, but two devices actually answered him back. Quickly he honed in on the signal, doing his best to compensate for the copious amounts of static from the both of them and the faint volume of the latter in particular. When he replied his voice, by contrast, was usually very clear and crisp. A buttery sort of sound that Robin had told him once reminded him of an old-fashioned radio announcer, right down to the Mid-Atlantic accent. "I would prefer not to disclose my exact location right now. But you may refer to me as Goliath." Announced the security camera. He took note of the designation provided by the second voice in particular, filing away a reminder to himself to later search through the databases at his disposal for a '7n1'. "I would highly recommend you consider your words very, very carefully on this frequency, 7n1. Consider an alternative designation in the future, perhaps?" He then lectured, an automatic response to an element of his cautious programming that he had never been able to shake properly. "Unfortunately I am unable to provide you with precise directions to said location. But do you need assistance?" Meanwhile, with a polite nod of his head, Robin thanked him for opening the door. There was still hesitance in his approach, his gaze again drifting across the street surrounding them and studying the vehicle with a stoic expression. The tired, pained ache in her voice however soon became impossible to ignore for the old doctor, and against his better judgement he sighed and partially leaned into the vehicle to try to diagnose the issue. So far, he had no reason to suspect that the injury was feigned. The abnormal shape of her shoulder and the apparent evidence of bruising was more than enough to convince him that she was, indeed, genuinely injured. Still, as a medical professional there was still the matter of needing to confirm before he attempted any treatment. With a gentle hand he started to inspect the flesh around her shoulder, tutting audibly at the sight. "Let's see...hm...yes...judging by this discolouration I'd say this is indeed showing all the signs of a dislocated shoulder. Can you move it at all?" Questioned the doctor, prodding her in the arm with an outstretched finger to encourage her to try. Privately he berated himself for not carrying a proper med-kit on him more often, and shot her a sympathetic look when she asked for the hospital once more. "I'm very sorry but unfortunately, I don't think the hospital is the best bet for you right now." He tried to explain, as he leaned further into the vehicle in search of a first aid kit of their own to make use of. "Even if somehow you do have the funds for it, the local patrols are becoming rampant there and they haven't been taking too kindly to unfamiliar faces as of late. It could be very dangerous to visit right now." Robin shook his head, about to report more when Goliath's usual jingle emitted from his phone. Excusing himself for a moment he fished out the device from his pocket to finally check up on the security camera's thoughts. An eyebrow quirked as he read the message under breath. There are multiple responses in the area. Unknown intentions, but one needs fuel. I will attempt to find out more. And sure enough, a few seconds later, the message blinked back out of existence and he was back to the mundane conversation they'd had about favourite films genres. "...Sorry about that, expecting an important call." Robin eventually announced, trying to tune his attention back to the duo with Goliath's warning in mind. "I am worried about how pale she's looking, though. Do you think anything else could be broken?" He then took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, contemplating whether there was any way to help them out instead. If he could get them to a less conspicuous spot somewhere...but where on Earth could one hide the pick-up truck? Wondered the lindor, now drumming his fingers in a rhythmic fashion against the edge of the door as he contemplated his options. "If...if you can get us to somewhere a little less out in the open, I think I can help out?" Robin eventually offered. Immediately another message sounded from his phone, but he chose to ignore it for a moment. Goliath, after sensing his protest over this approach was going to go unanswered, twitched irritably beneath the hood of the man's jacket. "Somewhere less likely to attract someone's ire, perhaps on the outskirts of the city? Towards the mountains?" ((Sounds good :3 Happy to find any excuse to steer all the main characters towards each other so we can interact with each other.)) Edited June 8, 2022 by Lycanious Share this post Link to post
Posted June 16, 2022 (edited) Sunsill turned his head toward the rough area from which he received his response. At this point the machine "Goliath" was a little ways north and back, though he didn't know how far away they were nor if they were moving. The next reply he sent was a little bit more confident. "Physically undamaged, with a good supply of fuel left. Only assistance I need is to... er... find a route to the mountains. Without rousing suspicion from... let's say, nosy neighbors." His choice of words was fitting for the place the human was heading towards. There weren't any pure residential zones anymore, as empty houses eventually get repurposed into black markets and various business niches, but this would have been a fairly upscale neighborhood a decade ago. The motorcycle had once heard that it used to be incredibly expensive to live here, and that Lindor and Humans alike would have been competing for the technology jobs in the area. But now, the only thing that hasn't changed is the architecture. They were in Oakland now, technically. He had crossed over when he leapt from the bridge. Only the Dictatorship and its allies lived directly in San Francisco (though, Sunsill couldn't help but muse, what exactly was the difference between the two cities?) It was particularly easy to watch traffic coming in and out when there were two main bridges in the north and east and a narrow strip of land to the south that connected them to the mainland. During his time with the City Guard, Sunsill's--or rather, his rider's--most common assignment was to station themselves at one of those chokepoints. Occasionally they'd go and patrol the outer cities to check for signs of trouble, but most of the guards just took it as an excuse to slack off or collect some bribes. Despite this, it was very difficult to leave, at least for a human. San Francisco and its satellite suburbs were in a valley surrounded by steep mountains to the east. Most of the roads that previously crisscrossed the terrain were either blown up or left to decay to unusuability, fraught with rockslides and crumbling cliffs. Going north or south by hugging the coast would only delay that problem and cost him precious fuel. Sunsill snapped back to attention when he heard cursing from the woman he was tailing. --------- Joanna reached for her pistol, before she remembered she always left it hidden at home (and had only three shots worth of ammo). She may have not been paying attention, but her gut was telling her that the motorcycle had been much further back last time. Were they tailing her home? If so, how?? There wasn't a guard around. They would have arrested her by now if she'd done something to catch their eye. She was on a slight incline, but in the wrong direction. She was going to knock it out of commission before it could follow her home. There were a few turns left where she can run and lose any pursuer should she set off an alarm. Joanna rummaged through her pockets on feel alone, trying to find if she had a multitool on her. Her keys were there. Discreetly, she tried to check the pockets of the guard uniform, though she fumbled a bit with the unfamiliar clothing. Eventually she pulled out: two pennies, lots of lint, a small folded letter, gravel, a hair clip. A huff of self annoyance left her mouth when she chided herself for not learning lockpicking earlier. Oh well. Enough damage can be done with keys and a hair clip with enough time, and in a pinch a kick will do. The motorcycle almost seemed to shrink as she approached it. Before she could place her hand on its handles, a voice said "...wait what's the street we're on" ------- Sunsill tried to make himself look unassuming again when the woman approached him with a desperate, vicious look in her eyes. It was then when he realized that the woman wasn't part of the Guard--her uniform was a few years out of date, and poorly restored. In this kind of neighborhood, filled with broken glass, his stomach would be sinking if he had one. An unattended, polished and working motorcycle was prey to the black market. Over the radio, he transmitted: "Hostile at my location at uhhhhh..." He didn't know the street. GPS hasn't worked for a few years now. Sunsill looked up at the human, and in a very small voice, asked her if she knew. The woman jumped back a bit, then answered him back after a long blink. "I don't know who's talking or how, but how do you not know the street you're on." She seemed like she was ready to make a run for it, but was first trying to gauge what his reaction would be. Sunsill paused for a while, taking the time to decide how much more he was going to reveal. "I'm not with the City Guard. I look like it, but I'm not. I came here by myself and I'm lost." The woman was walking around him and craning her head, trying to get a good look. "And why should I believe you?" She paused, looking up but avoiding eye contact with a passerby on the street. When they passed out of earshot, she continued, "You're talking over a guard's motorcycle's radio." "I... I'm not talking over the radio, I am the radio. Well, the radio is part of me." Sunsill corrected. "You're an artificial intelligence in the radio." "Yeah, pretty much." He wasn't going to push the point of semantics with a human. "And you're tailing me home." "I thought you were a guard heading to the supply warehouse." "...that reminds me, that still doesn't answer the question of--" She paused again when another pedestrian walked by. "--why you're in a motorcycle model used exclusively by the Dictatorship." Sunsill cocked his head to the side, having thought of an elaborate lie. It was half-right, the best kind of lie. "I'm an experimental AI created by the City Guard, but they didn't do enough testing before they put me inside of this vehicle. I escaped this morning in the fog, but now I can't really go anywhere without being noticed as a riderless motorcycle. Now, what's your story?" The woman smiled. With her thin lips, it looked hollow. "Your story is pretty suspicious. But the idea that the Dictatorship is using a never-before-seen tactic to follow a random person home is unlikely. I don't think I've done something that bad." More than five minutes have passed since Sunsill called for help over the radio. His next transmission was "Cancel that, not hostile, I'm good." In the analog world, he said, "So what are you doing out here with a guard uniform?" "Hot tip, don't give out your life story to strangers out on the streets. And don't be curious about precious looking things laying out in the open. On that note, I should be off. Don't follow me." The woman waved, having already turned her back. Sunsill stood up straight, feeling panicked. That was better than he expected the encounter to go, but he was back to square one. In desperation, and out of options he could think of, he blurted, "Wait, we can help each other!" The human faced him again with a raised eyebrow. "I don't know what you are, and--" "We can get through guarded areas together. I know some of the passwords and identifying codes. You can move around without suspicion." Sunsill interrupted. -------------------- Joanna bit her lip lightly. This was sketchy. But. It also was a unique opportunity, and even if things go south and the AI stabbed her in the back, she could still possibly find a creative way to profit out of the situation. Her previous plans weren't even half-baked--they were unbaked. No inkling of an idea of how to escape and survive past the first three nights. She'd still have to take precautions. Ensure she has the highest chance of getting ahead. "Alright. If you know the way out of this godforsaken city, out to... wherever, I think we can get along." The motorcycle shifted its "head" to the side in acknowledgement. Though she hid it the best she could, the amount of movement the AI could make sent chills down her spine. Unnatural movements--but they weren't choppy. They were smooth, fluid. It replied, "I never got to patrol the edges of the city, but we will definitely find a way. What's your name?" Joanna gave another of her sardonic smiles without missing a beat. "Call me Alex. And you?" "7n1. Snill, in Numerical Shorthand. I call myself Sunsill." The gears in Joanna's mind started to turn with speed. "Alright, then, Sunsill. I still don't want to bring you right to my apartment--the neighbors will get nervous. And either way, I should probably say goodbye to 'home'. I'll change and return here with supplies for the trip. Try not to get stolen in the meantime." The AI made a noise that resembled laughing. ------------------------ "Update: I am," Sunsill paused for a moment, soaking in Alex's words of caution. "We are in a good position. We may need assistance, but also we may be able to help you guys out? We are looking for..." He wasn't quite sure how to put his plans of escape in an approved Lindor word format, so he went ahead and said it directly. "We are looking for a way out of the city. Business reasons. Winter was bad, you know, mountains are hard to cross and the lovely city government hasn't been able to fix the roads yet ; ) ; )." Edited June 24, 2022 by serce2 Share this post Link to post
Posted June 21, 2022 (edited) The two Pokémon figures keep running, eventually making it to a motorcycle and... a human?! They stay as still as they can after seeing the human, attempting to not move even an inch. (I apologize if this is not what you wanted, Serce.) Edited June 21, 2022 by Dragonlover2 Share this post Link to post
Posted July 23, 2022 ((back to writing after a month's break!)) Sunsill did a double take when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. The human's back was turned, and she was walking briskly away. She didn't ever notice the two tiny figures on the street, styled after humanoid monsters. Their shapes were vaguely recognizeable from old TV tapes of a show called Pokemon, but that was the extent of Sunsill's knowledge. "What the hell..." Sunsill began hissing, then sent out a low-range pulse over the radio, somewhat analogous to a whisper. "Are you radio-capable? Can you receive or send transmissions on this frequency?" He switched back to speaking in the real world, in as low of a sound as he could make. "What are you doing out here running around? Someone might spot you." The motorcycle glanced up around at the street. It was beginning to get dangerously active, and he was lucky so far that only one human had seen him. "Do you need a ride somewhere? I have a human I'm traveling with; we can get you to anywhere in the city." Share this post Link to post
Posted July 25, 2022 "No, we can't talk through radio waves," Mirage says, keeping his voice to a whisper. He's making sure not to use his powers, though he might have to use them at some point. "This Blaziken and I were just running, trying to get as far away from humans as possible. It looks like a human's already with you, and it's a good thing she hasn't spotted us," the Mewtwo figure explains. Share this post Link to post
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