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[Elu]

Enrico try to catch the swirling mask, pull the cord, and secure it like explained on the safety card, believing there's nothing else that he can do. Also he briefly wonder about a soap vendor career, without a reason.

[Greenstarfanatic]

(( Lol parachutes on a public flight? U know what would happen if you put 200 people with no idea what there doing in a parachute and asked them to jump from a nose diving plane?
Half of them would fall over and be smashed to pieces flopping around the ship 2/3 of the remaining would jump out and completely fail to use the parachute and fall to there deaths.
And the last small group would probably ending up spinning in circles until the chute broke up and they plummeted to there doom.
Using a parachute aint easy ))

The thing is, you would still probably have a better chance of surviving if you jumped out with a parachute than if you stayed in the plane as it crashed. Sure, it's mainly done to save time for the pilot and crew, as they would have to explain how to use them, but it's still safer, in my opinion. And I'm sure nobody would 'Fall over and flop around the ship' unless they're incredibly stupid and clumsy, or they happened to have a seizure. It would take them a bit of time to get to the door, but they would still be able to before it crashed. As long as they have been taught by the crew, everyone SHOULD be able to make it out alive, unless a freak accident happens and they A) Get sucked into the jet, or B) The plane Spontaneously combusts.

But, WHAT DO I KNOW!? 

[mesor]

(( If they all lined up and proceeded to the doors in an organized line then im sure it would work. But your dropping out of the sky seconds from dieing what do you think the odds are that 300 people are going to walk to the door in an organized line and wait there turn? In a life threatening situation the vast majority of the civilians will panic then stampede ensues they bundle through the door in packs which instantly means some of them wont make it because the chutes will tangle or they'll hit each other in free fall. Plus when ur nose diving in a plane im pretty sure keeping your balance will be difficult . ))

[The Anus of Discontent]

((From what I've read, the expense and added weight of having a parachute for everyone aboard outweighs any possible benefit. It would take about five minutes to get to the proper altitude to even open the emergency door without risk of decompression, then probably another ten minutes to get everyone out. When's the last time a crash took fifteen minutes...? Chances are, you'll have about three minutes to get some kind of emergency plan into action. Then you're down. That's just my two cents though. I've just been researching it because I like to know as much as I can about what I'm writing about.))

Chapter One: New Arrivals

Spoiler: Players (click to show/hide)

lawastooshort
Name: Jacob Rodgersen
Job: Research assistant
Age: 33
Sex: Male
Ethnicity: White British
Negative Traits: Mild fear of doctors and needles. Bad hand and finger joints. Obsession with cleanliness and things being in their place. Professional apathy. Habitual tiredness.
Description: Jacob is five foot eleven. His hair is vaguely light brown; his eyes mostly grey. His build is unremarkable but he is generally fit.
Bio: Jacob isn't really from a scientific background, he just fell into research after another more high powered job became too much for him to deal with. He's lived and worked in various European countries and is fairly happily married with one small child. This has resulted in his having greatly disrupted sleep for three years. Really, he just goes to work to pay the bills, but a large research institute isn't the worst place to work at, it has to be said, and at least he can commute on his bike. The half hour ride there and back is the best part of an average working day; picking his daughter up from kindergarten is the best part of the rest of the day. Not really mechanically inclined, he nevertheless enjoys maintaining both his bicycles. He also enjoys cooking, reading to his daughter and practising, although not as often as he should, iaido. He's only ever been able to afford a bokken though and dreams of one day owning a live blade.

Elu
Name: Enrico Sfrigolini
Job: Cook
Age: 25
Sex: Male
Ethnicity: White Italian
Negative Traits: eggplantphobia, peanut allergy, favism. He don't give a damn for his own wounds and blood, but faints when seeing someone other's blood or nasty wounds. Or needles.
Description: He is 5.25 foot tall, with a somewhat slim body. Blue eyes, light brown hair.
Bio: Enrico is the son of a farmer and a seamstress. His parents managed to rise from farmhand and tailor helper to farmer and dressmaker with their own farm and dress shop and wanted to launch their only son into the shiny upper classes. So when Enrico turned 18 they shipped him to a prestigious university in order to study mathematics and become a venerable "doctor".
Enrico's parents struggled to give him an education, and somehow they managed to do a better work than most country schools.
However, the university proved to be more difficult than expected, and the expenses more harsh. So enrico had to find some economic aid and tried various little, unsatisfactory jobs until one random autumn day, when the idea of cooking for a living literally steamed out of a potato stew.
Since then he try to balance between two life, the academic one made of parties&panties, sleepless nights and furious study, and the talented cook's one, made of asshole clients, asshole chefs, delicious delicacies and sleepless nights(yep).

Greenstarfanatic
Name:Albert Wiggins
Job:Part Time Circus Clown, other Part, Science Teacher
Age:36
Sex:Male
Ethnicity: American, white
Negative Traits:  Depression/Tired-ness from being overworked, Hates Children, and is EXTRA prone to Freudian Slips. As well as regular slips.
Description: Has Flat-ish brown hair, short legs, long arms, and an irregularly large nose. He's tried to get it reduced, but every plastic surgeon so far has turned him down. He wears a Candy-Cane Striped suit at one job, and while he's a Clown, he wears a wig with it.
Bio: When Albert was young, he kept telling himself he would run away to the circus when he got the chance, which he did, quite early on in life. He became their best clown, and later earned enough money to buy a house. Once that happened, he knew he would have to take on another job. Seeing as he was around kids at the circus so often, he thought being a teacher would be a great opportunity for him.
WRONG.
He hates the job, but can't quit because the kids love him, and if he does, he won't be able to support himself. Same with the Clown job, he loves it, and can't quit. Over time, the jobs have seeped into his unconscious mind, Giving him a hatred for children, as well as confusion over what to say sometimes. Clumsiness is also a factor, as he's supposed to be clumsy in his circus job, but he just can't turn it off now.
At this point he's depressed, lonely, and out of options. If only there was SOMETHING he could do...

VincValentine
Name: Sarah Führinger
Job: Student
Age: 20
Sex: Female
Ethnicity: Germanic, White
Negative Traits: Arachnophobia, Fear of Heights, Strong OCD, Far sighted
Description: Sarah is a little bit on the short side, standing at about 5'6", but she is above average looking with long brown hair and the glasses she always wears
Bio: Sarah was always a perfectionist, so when she came to college everything had to be right. The classes she picked, the things she did, they all had to fit a pattern, they had to make sense. So when things started going awry and she couldn't fix them, she started panicking. In order to get away from the stress, she decided to go on a vacation. But that may have not been the best of ideas.

The Hydro of Hydrovia
Name:Vladimir "The Hydro" Hydrov
Job:Barista
Age:23
Sex:M
Ethnicity:Murrica (USA)
Negative Traits: Overweight, insane, low tolerance for heat
Description:Tall and fat. Scraggly-ass beard and sideburns. Wears brown, '80s style shorts with a white button-up shirt, a peaked cap and aviator goggles. On his feet are usually slippers and today is no exception.
Bio:Hydro is a cafe barista from Louisiana who is trying to acquire sufficient funds to launch a new country. He was born in Van Nuys, California to a middle class family. He spent most of his school career slacking off and dicking around, and somehow managed to bust his ass during his senior year to graduate at a charter high school in Nevada. He then moved to Louisiana to avoid going back to California. He is minorly experienced with bolt action rifles and machetes from using them during shooting trips with his father and massacring a closet door with his own hand-made blade.

Caellath
Name: Rodrigo Hernández
Job: Ex-Soldier, Unemployed.
Age: 23
Sex: Male
Ethnicity: USA Latino
Negative Traits: Suffers from PTSD, has a low self-esteem and constantly has to carry meds with him.
Description: 5'10", brown-skinned and with brown eyes and black hair, he seems twitchy, anxious and sometimes, afraid of everything.
Bio: Rodrigo was among the masses of young men who were drawn to the army with sweet promises of scholarship and a better future. Having a naive image of the conflict and believing the words of the recruiters about a "short and easy war", he joined and trained with enthusiasm with rifle, sidearm and knife, even hoping he could make it to the green berets!

When he was sent to the frontlines, he discovered war was not as romantic as he thought; training with a combat knife didn't help when the enemies attacked from afar and even his rifle was useless when buried charges shredded into pieces parts of the convoy he was supposed to guard...Blood and corpses strewn everywhere; fellow soldiers as well as innocent men, women and children. He hadn't been prepared for that.

He was finally hit by shrapnel to the torso and sent back home with a Purple Heart, without having accomplished any "heroic" feats but taking traumas with him that would last for life.

Shrug and enjoy the ride.

[2] Easier said than done... When the airplane pitched forward, you just about pooped your pants. You take little notice of the oxygen mask in front of you as you tighten your grip on the arm-rests. You tense up and prepare for impact... You see a guy go flying through the air toward the back of the plane... Poor guy.

SCREW IT. Keep Praying, but put on the floatation device.

[6] Yeah, so god, about keeping me alive. You're on that... right? You wonder how effective your prayers will be as you grab the life preserver from under your seat. [10] Oh yeah. The card on it is really easy to understand. Popping the buckles, you slide your arms through the correct holes and buckle yourself back up with ease. Holding the pull-pin, you wait for the water before you try inflating it.

Jacob fumbles about under his seat looking for the self inflating life jacket and continues to brace.

[8] It takes much less fumbling than you thought to get the life jacket. You glance at the card [4] it's the Spanish side! The pictures look good enough. You put your arms through some holes and get your head in one too. [8] At least the jacket isn't impeding your ability to brace. Back in the position you were in before, you get ready for the landing...

Sarah, still deep in calculations about the impact velocity and and angle of the aircraft, is ripped out of her thoughts when she hears a huge explosion behind her and feels the wind rushing through her hair. Trying to keep herself from panicing, she fumbles around under her seat and attempts to put on the lifejacket that is supposed to be there.

[1] It's supposed to be there... IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE THERE... BUT IT ISN'T... WHAT!? You start panicking and hyperventilating. [1, 1, 2, 1*] Your vision blurs and you faint.

*((My die roller hates you apparently. Those were the rolls, in the order I rolled them...))

Enrico try to catch the swirling mask, pull the cord, and secure it like explained on the safety card, believing there's nothing else that he can do. Also he briefly wonder about a soap vendor career, without a reason.

[10] You grab the mask out of the air like some kind of karate master. Strapping it onto your face, you take a deep breath of oxygen and feel a LOT BETTER. Gee, you think. I wonder why I don't see more people doing this? Taking a deep breath, you relax and let your mind wander. [9] Soap vendors probably don't have to deal with plane crashes... Maybe I should have been one after all. It would certainly smell better... Speaking of smells, how's that guy with the smelly breath? You turn and see he's frowning because he has to smell his own breath. Ahh, the smell of justice.

Damien moves out of hes seat........ ((WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? YOUR PLANE IS IN A NOSE-DIVE!))
..... and rushing forward take the nearest empty seat near to the emergency exit and then lowers himself down and braces hes leg's quickly running over what he knows about impact's and trying to work out the best time to jump to avoid the impact entirely.

[9] You unbuckle yourself. [2] You are torn from your seat and thrown into the ceiling. The rushing air flowing toward the back of the plane catches you and you feel yourself bounce, like a rag-doll, across its bumpy surface. You feel a sense of utter helplessness as you fly through the cabin. As you're about to be ejected from a gaping hole in the back of the plane, you reach out and try to grab onto something. [8] You grasp onto the head-rest of a seat, trying your best to pull yourself in. [2] You're just about lose your grip as a purse hits you in the forehead and your fingers slip off of the seat. You feel weightless for about two seconds before you slam into the water at two-hundred miles an hour. You feel every bone in your body break at once.

Then you feel nothing...

==================================================================

The pilot rolled a [3]. Which was pretty bad, but not as bad as it could have been...

***BOOOOOOM***

Darkness.

Spoiler: lawastooshort (click to show/hide)

You open your eyes. The sand is warm on against your back, but the sun is blaring. In the distance, you watch as what appears to be a three sided piece of metal flies through the air and land in the ocean. Then you remember... You were just in a plane crash... You sit up and see the wreckage ahead. The water lies just beyond the crashed plane. It looks like it's been ripped to shreds. People are scattered on the beach. Some moving, some not. Mostly not... You notice you're still wearing the inflatable jacket... Guess I won't need that any more... You see some people climbing on the wing, trying to get into a piece of wreckage and get survivors. While you're watching, they all go up in a ball of flame. Less than a second later you hear the explosion. Those poor people...

Spoiler: Elu (click to show/hide)

You hear an explosion... It sounded REALLY close! You open your eyes and notice your oxygen mask is still on. Taking a deep breath, you survey your surroundings. You're still in the cabin, but you can see beach just less than five feet in front of you. You see more wreckage of the plane one the beach, as well as people sprawled on the sand. You quickly pat yourself to make sure you didn't get hurt. Everything seems in order. You look over and the sauerkraut smelling man looks as though he isn't breathing... He's bleeding from a wound in his head. You don't think there's anything you could do to help him. You're still buckled into your seat.

Spoiler: Greenstarfanatic (click to show/hide)

 You wake up with a jolt. Something outside just exploded! You're laying in the sand. Something behind you is REALLY HOT! You look around and notice that you're underneath a huge piece of metal. You press against it, but it doesn't budge. There's a seat on fire next to you, and it's filling the pocket you're in with disgusting polyester-smoke. It looks like you're underneath the emergency airlock for the plane... There's got to be a lever around here to open it! The gap you're in is about three feet tall, with the emergency exit in what would be the ceiling. The walls of your enclosure are made of broken seats and dead people. The flame is a blessing as well as a curse... It's lighting up the pocket really well, but it's polluting your air and illuminating the gore around you... You need to get the hell out of here!

Spoiler: VincValentine (click to show/hide)

You open your eyes slowly. In front of you, you can see the wreckage of an airplane. You notice that you're strapped into a chair, but you're on your side. You unbuckle yourself and sit on the sand. You have no idea how your seat made it over here... You don't care... All that matters is that you're still alive. Well, maybe you care a LITTLE about how your seat got over here... You try to convince yourself that it doesn't matter while you survey the wreckage... It looks like most of the people were ejected from the plane when it crashed. They lay strewn across the beach. It looks like there are a couple of people going into the wreckage to check for people. Brave souls. As you think about your plight, the would-be heroes are blown from the wreckage by a ball of flame. The explosion rings in your ears.

Spoiler: They Hydro of Hydrovia (click to show/hide)

You hear an explosion and open your eyes in time to see a charred body land in the sand next to you. Startled, you scurry away, just as it starts raining metal shrapnel. As metal hits the ground, some of it hitting the other people scattered on the beach, you find a piece of metal sticking out of the sand big enough for you to slide under. You hear muffled music and remember your Mp3 player. Curiously, you reach over and lift an earbud to your ear.

Spoiler: Mesor (click to show/hide)

Sorry, man. Your character died.

Spoiler: Caellath (click to show/hide)

You've been in the fetal position on the beach for the past few minutes. You'd be screaming incoherently if you could take a breath. Your hyperventilation is making it difficult for you to fucus. Trying your best to take control, you reach into your breast pocket and pull out a few pills. You jam them in your mouth and swallow. After about another minute, the shaking subsides. Your breathing is returning to normal, but your mind isn't... Flashbacks hit you like waves as you lay on the beach, sobbing uncontrollably. Dead bodies... DEAD BODIES EVERYWHERE!!!!

Random passengers lay scattered on the beach. Some showered with debris from the recent explosion. It would appear that most of the people are dead. Some sit on the beach, crying or screaming, others wander around searching for lost loved ones. The wreckage burns with a thick black smoke. The pillar is nearly a mile high. No need for a signal fire... Anyone could see that from miles away. At this point, everyone is in shock. People are still trapped in the wreckage, and many need some kind of medical help. Even more people are in critical condition, and there doesn't appear to be anyone in charge. Hope would appear to be lost...

What do YOU do?

[mesor]

(( Haha saw that one coming )).

[The Hydro of Hydrovia]

Hydro shrugs and picks up his music. He puts an earbud in and gets up.


((HYDRO DON'T GIVE A FUCK))

[VincValentine]

((Jesus, those rolls. At least I didn't attempt anything stupid because those rolls would probably have gotten me killed.))

Sarah checks herself for any injuries. If she is uninjured, she gets up and attempts to help people in her immediate vicinity, staying away from the wreckage. If she is injured, she will attempt to do some first aid, using her clothes as a makeshift bandage and making absolutely sure that it is neatly and evenly fastened around the wound.

[Caellath]

Rodrigo clutches his head and stays on the sand, sobbing like a child who was recovering from the shock of losing both parents. His training wasn't worth anything and both their rifles and body armor were just useless illusions for safety. People had died then, and more people were dying now, and he was unable to do anything. The first-aid course wouldn't help anyone...there were splattered heads and pieces of people strewn around him, and his commanding officer kept screaming for half a minute before finally dying of blood loss.

Tears still staining his face, he started to slowly crawl away from the battlefield and search for someone still alive, still shoving his face into the sand from time to time and trying to avoid the crossfire between the sand rats and what had remained of his platoon. He still had a chance of getting out of war achieving something...he had to help someone...

Crawl pathetically on the sand until nearest person still alive is found.

[Greenstarfanatic]

((...not bad.))

Albert searches frantically for a lever, and pulls it. If it doesn't work, he tries to kick open the door with his superior leg strength.

[lawastooshort]

Jacob searches himself for injury and then searches the beach for any debris that might have escaped total destruction, hoping to find something useful such as first aid material.

[Elu]

"whoawhoawhoa..." Enrico thinks "the plane was hit by TWO lightnings. crashed. and i'm still alive. for the inverse Murphy theorem, i should be the winner of a couple lotteries by now... sweet! also, why they don't fill the entire cabin with oxygen? feels good". Then the sight of the bright sand and the crying of peoples finally make their way in Enrico's mind. He keep the mask on and check himself for wounds, wondering if that's the real life or just a cracker&ananas juice induced fantasy. As he see the blood running from the krautman's head he become lighter and little flashing flies start dancing in his eyes. "if this is a dream, it's a damn realistic one, if this isn't: DAMN". He try to resist and not faint, breathing all the oxygen he can from the mask.

[The Anus of Discontent]

((Sorry for the delay, I picked up this new game called Towns and got pretty addicted... It's like an isometric DF-clone. Worth checking out. Also, when I was trying to post, the Bay12 forums were down or something, so I couldn't connect to post.))

Chapter Two: Culling the Meek

Spoiler: Players (click to show/hide)

lawastooshort
Name: Jacob Rodgersen
Job: Research assistant
Age: 33
Sex: Male
Ethnicity: White British
Negative Traits: Mild fear of doctors and needles. Bad hand and finger joints. Obsession with cleanliness and things being in their place. Professional apathy. Habitual tiredness.
Description: Jacob is five foot eleven. His hair is vaguely light brown; his eyes mostly grey. His build is unremarkable but he is generally fit.
Bio: Jacob isn't really from a scientific background, he just fell into research after another more high powered job became too much for him to deal with. He's lived and worked in various European countries and is fairly happily married with one small child. This has resulted in his having greatly disrupted sleep for three years. Really, he just goes to work to pay the bills, but a large research institute isn't the worst place to work at, it has to be said, and at least he can commute on his bike. The half hour ride there and back is the best part of an average working day; picking his daughter up from kindergarten is the best part of the rest of the day. Not really mechanically inclined, he nevertheless enjoys maintaining both his bicycles. He also enjoys cooking, reading to his daughter and practising, although not as often as he should, iaido. He's only ever been able to afford a bokken though and dreams of one day owning a live blade.

Elu
Name: Enrico Sfrigolini
Job: Cook
Age: 25
Sex: Male
Ethnicity: White Italian
Negative Traits: eggplantphobia, peanut allergy, favism. He don't give a damn for his own wounds and blood, but faints when seeing someone other's blood or nasty wounds. Or needles.
Description: He is 5.25 foot tall, with a somewhat slim body. Blue eyes, light brown hair.
Bio: Enrico is the son of a farmer and a seamstress. His parents managed to rise from farmhand and tailor helper to farmer and dressmaker with their own farm and dress shop and wanted to launch their only son into the shiny upper classes. So when Enrico turned 18 they shipped him to a prestigious university in order to study mathematics and become a venerable "doctor".
Enrico's parents struggled to give him an education, and somehow they managed to do a better work than most country schools.
However, the university proved to be more difficult than expected, and the expenses more harsh. So enrico had to find some economic aid and tried various little, unsatisfactory jobs until one random autumn day, when the idea of cooking for a living literally steamed out of a potato stew.
Since then he try to balance between two life, the academic one made of parties&panties, sleepless nights and furious study, and the talented cook's one, made of asshole clients, asshole chefs, delicious delicacies and sleepless nights(yep).

Greenstarfanatic
Name:Albert Wiggins
Job:Part Time Circus Clown, other Part, Science Teacher
Age:36
Sex:Male
Ethnicity: American, white
Negative Traits:  Depression/Tired-ness from being overworked, Hates Children, and is EXTRA prone to Freudian Slips. As well as regular slips.
Description: Has Flat-ish brown hair, short legs, long arms, and an irregularly large nose. He's tried to get it reduced, but every plastic surgeon so far has turned him down. He wears a Candy-Cane Striped suit at one job, and while he's a Clown, he wears a wig with it.
Bio: When Albert was young, he kept telling himself he would run away to the circus when he got the chance, which he did, quite early on in life. He became their best clown, and later earned enough money to buy a house. Once that happened, he knew he would have to take on another job. Seeing as he was around kids at the circus so often, he thought being a teacher would be a great opportunity for him.
WRONG.
He hates the job, but can't quit because the kids love him, and if he does, he won't be able to support himself. Same with the Clown job, he loves it, and can't quit. Over time, the jobs have seeped into his unconscious mind, Giving him a hatred for children, as well as confusion over what to say sometimes. Clumsiness is also a factor, as he's supposed to be clumsy in his circus job, but he just can't turn it off now.
At this point he's depressed, lonely, and out of options. If only there was SOMETHING he could do...

VincValentine
Name: Sarah Führinger
Job: Student
Age: 20
Sex: Female
Ethnicity: Germanic, White
Negative Traits: Arachnophobia, Fear of Heights, Strong OCD, Far sighted
Description: Sarah is a little bit on the short side, standing at about 5'6", but she is above average looking with long brown hair and the glasses she always wears
Bio: Sarah was always a perfectionist, so when she came to college everything had to be right. The classes she picked, the things she did, they all had to fit a pattern, they had to make sense. So when things started going awry and she couldn't fix them, she started panicking. In order to get away from the stress, she decided to go on a vacation. But that may have not been the best of ideas.

The Hydro of Hydrovia
Name:Vladimir "The Hydro" Hydrov
Job:Barista
Age:23
Sex:M
Ethnicity:Murrica (USA)
Negative Traits: Overweight, insane, low tolerance for heat
Description:Tall and fat. Scraggly-ass beard and sideburns. Wears brown, '80s style shorts with a white button-up shirt, a peaked cap and aviator goggles. On his feet are usually slippers and today is no exception.
Bio:Hydro is a cafe barista from Louisiana who is trying to acquire sufficient funds to launch a new country. He was born in Van Nuys, California to a middle class family. He spent most of his school career slacking off and dicking around, and somehow managed to bust his ass during his senior year to graduate at a charter high school in Nevada. He then moved to Louisiana to avoid going back to California. He is minorly experienced with bolt action rifles and machetes from using them during shooting trips with his father and massacring a closet door with his own hand-made blade.

Caellath
Name: Rodrigo Hernández
Job: Ex-Soldier, Unemployed.
Age: 23
Sex: Male
Ethnicity: USA Latino
Negative Traits: Suffers from PTSD, has a low self-esteem and constantly has to carry meds with him.
Description: 5'10", brown-skinned and with brown eyes and black hair, he seems twitchy, anxious and sometimes, afraid of everything.
Bio: Rodrigo was among the masses of young men who were drawn to the army with sweet promises of scholarship and a better future. Having a naive image of the conflict and believing the words of the recruiters about a "short and easy war", he joined and trained with enthusiasm with rifle, sidearm and knife, even hoping he could make it to the green berets!

When he was sent to the frontlines, he discovered war was not as romantic as he thought; training with a combat knife didn't help when the enemies attacked from afar and even his rifle was useless when buried charges shredded into pieces parts of the convoy he was supposed to guard...Blood and corpses strewn everywhere; fellow soldiers as well as innocent men, women and children. He hadn't been prepared for that.

He was finally hit by shrapnel to the torso and sent back home with a Purple Heart, without having accomplished any "heroic" feats but taking traumas with him that would last for life.

Hydro shrugs and picks up his music. He puts an earbud in and gets up.

[9] Planes crash. C'est la vie. Well, such is YOUR life. A bunch of other people weren't so lucky... Oh well. Thinking purely objectively, you figure there won't be any rescue for a few more days. That means you'll need food and shelter. Hell, if the island isn't populated, it might be the perfect place to start that micro-nation... [2] You put in your earbuds and frown. I didn't even put this song on there... Oh well, might as well get up. [7] You stand and brush the sand off of you. As you do, you realize you don't have any feeling in your left arm. You can move it fine, you just can't feel it... Upon closer inspection, you notice a small piece of metal lodged just under your left tricep. A small trickle of blood drips from the wound. You freeze and stare at the metal bit intently... No knowing what damage you could do to yourself trying to move if you can't feel it! It looks like a small rod, about a millimeter in diameter. You think you could grab the end, as there's about an inch sticking out of your arm, but you have no idea how long the rod is... Or what it could be... It seems made of a rigid metal, like steel. Well, fuck... You can either search for someone who knows what they're doing... Or you can fix it yourself...

Sarah checks herself for any injuries. If she is uninjured, she gets up and attempts to help people in her immediate vicinity, staying away from the wreckage. If she is injured, she will attempt to do some first aid, using her clothes as a makeshift bandage and making absolutely sure that it is neatly and evenly fastened around the wound.

[6] There's a tender bump on your head, but aside from that, you're quite alright. You look around at the people nearest to you. [4] About five feet away, a man lays face down in the sand, arms splayed out. He's not breathing... You make out a number of additional bodies... Probably five just near you... You shudder and keep looking. [6] Listening intently, you focus on a scream. There's a man laying near where that last explosion was... He's got a two foot long piece of metal sticking out of his stomach. Nobody else is moving to help him... He looks over at you and puts arm out. "HELP ME, PLEASE HELP ME!" Behind him, you see a hatch door and a cloud of smoke come rushing out. In the thick of the smoke, you think you can see a man pulling himself out. He drops over the side, coughing and weezing...

Rodrigo clutches his head and stays on the sand, sobbing like a child who was recovering from the shock of losing both parents. His training wasn't worth anything and both their rifles and body armor were just useless illusions for safety. People had died then, and more people were dying now, and he was unable to do anything. The first-aid course wouldn't help anyone...there were splattered heads and pieces of people strewn around him, and his commanding officer kept screaming for half a minute before finally dying of blood loss.

Tears still staining his face, he started to slowly crawl away from the battlefield and search for someone still alive, still shoving his face into the sand from time to time and trying to avoid the crossfire between the sand rats and what had remained of his platoon. He still had a chance of getting out of war achieving something...he had to help someone...

Crawl pathetically on the sand until nearest person still alive is found.

[10] You snap right out of it, mostly... You remember being on a plane... in your seat when it hit turbulence... Oh god, it must have crashed... You look around and see a number of dead people around you. Shuddering as you draw the comparisons to past experiences, you crawl along the sand looking for other survivors. [5] When you try to move, your left foot doesn't seem to respond. Looking down, it seems to be pointing the wrong way... The pain hits you in waves as you try not to scream out. Oh god... [4] You hear someone screaming for help and your thoughts drift back to the past... People you knew and cared about, screaming for help as their lives were ended...

Albert searches frantically for a lever, and pulls it. If it doesn't work, he tries to kick open the door with his superior leg strength.

[8] Thank god there's a raging seat fire behind you! The door is very well illuminated and [5] you grab the handle, which burns the fuck out of your hand. Coughing, you grab a shirt from a conveniently placed luggage case and wrap your hand. Grabbing the door again you give it a firm push. [10] The handle twists easily and the door pops. [5] The door comes loose from its position and lands on top of you. [8] You rub your head and curse it briefly before grabbing at the door frame and pulling yourself right up. Smoke billows from the newly opened door, obscuring your vision and making it impossible to breathe. [4] You clutch at your face and fall over the side of your ex-prison. Gasping for air on the ground, you notice a man next to you with a large metal protrusion on his stomach. He is screaming incoherently.

Jacob searches himself for injury and then searches the beach for any debris that might have escaped total destruction, hoping to find something useful such as first aid material.

[3] Your head pounds. You feel the back of your head and feel blood trickling from a gash. [10] Holding the back of your head, you try to stand. You're a lot less woozy than you thought you'd be. Nauseated, you begin looking for something to wrap your head with. On the ground next to a dead guy with no legs, there is a stewardess's cart. You start looking through it. [6] Little bottles of alcohol, napkins, washcloths, plastic silverware, packages of peanuts, cups, and a thermos full of cold water. Not a bad find, you think to yourself. [7] You figure cleaning the wound with alcohol couldn't hurt. Grabbing a washcloth, you unscrew a bottle of vodka and drench the cloth in it. You pat the back of your head softly, trying to get the most out of it. You can hear screams from the beach... [6] You finish wrapping your head with a makeshift bandage. It'll have to do...

"whoawhoawhoa..." Enrico thinks "the plane was hit by TWO lightnings. crashed. and i'm still alive. for the inverse Murphy theorem, i should be the winner of a couple lotteries by now... sweet! also, why they don't fill the entire cabin with oxygen? feels good". Then the sight of the bright sand and the crying of peoples finally make their way in Enrico's mind. He keep the mask on and check himself for wounds, wondering if that's the real life or just a cracker&bananas juice induced fantasy. As he see the blood running from the krautman's head he become lighter and little flashing flies start dancing in his eyes. "if this is a dream, it's a damn realistic one, if this isn't: DAMN". He try to resist and not faint, breathing all the oxygen he can from the mask.

[5] You take another deep breath from the oxygen mask and notice it isn't connected to anything. You frown, that oxygen could really be useful right now... [7] You're pretty convinced this is real life... You remember being on the plane... and the turbulence... and the explosion... There's a lot of dead people on the ground too, which is something you rarely (if ever) dream about... [5] After another quick pat-down, you're sure you're not hurt. You take off the now-useless oxygen mask and look around. Somewhere behind you, you hear someone screaming for help. Then you hear a loud thunk and someone coughing. [4] You try to turn and see, but you're still buckled into your seat...

==================================================================

Of the hundred-or-so people that crash landed on the beach, only about 12 now survive. Most of them are still in critical condition. The wreckage of the plane is almost entirely aflame. A small section of the fuselage still remains with a few seats in it. Many of them are still occupied. Many of the occupants are dead...

What will you do? Be a hero and attempt save lives? Look for supplies to stay alive? Curl up in a ball and babble to yourself incoherently? The decisions you make now will drastically affect what comes to be...

[The Anus of Discontent]

((FRICKIN FRACKIN DOUBLEPOSTS!))

[VincValentine]

Seeing the guy with the metal piece in his stomach and the bodies lying around, Sarah tries to keep herself from vomiting. She quickly makes her over to him and attempts to put a makeshift bandage around his stomach, encircling the wound. She knows enough about the human body to know that pulling the metal thing out of the man would cause him to bleed out and die, so she attempts to calm him down and stop the bleeding. 

[Caellath]

((Wow, his foot is either broken or dislocated. Welp, how do I envy ye, rest of the team. ))

Rodrigo winces as he sees his foot. It is hurting now, but he knows he needs to do something about it which will only hurt even more. He breathes deeply before sitting and staring at his foot. Time for the truth, it was the moment to make his training be worth a shit, even if he wasn't able to save someone he should at least be able to put his own foot back in place.

Set foot back in place, immobilize it and help the closest wounded person. Pray for it not to be broken or prepare for eternal pains and problems with the foot to be added to the PTSD.