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Author Topic: The Coil: A Post-Apocalyptic Succession Forum Game. Round 1: Waitlist Unlimited!  (Read 6642 times)

Fniff

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Within the city, down below the skeletons of the skyscrapers, past the abandoned fortifications filled with skeletonized bodies wearing army uniforms, there is only corpses to be found. A crow picks at a dead scavenger's shredded corpse, ripping out an eye with a sick sound. There is the sound of glass smashing: probably a zombie who sighted prey, even in this desolate landscape. The crow takes flight, spreading it's wings that are slightly larger then usual, and drifting on the thermos above the lonesome city. Below it, the shattered suburbs lay below it. The windows have been long smashed, the mown grass now a tangle of weeds, and every car has been either set alight or stripped to it's base chassis. There are corpses, piled up and set alight to contain the plagues that have struck this land, buried in mass graves, or just laying in the places they fell when it all began. There are a few silhouettes, shadows of the old world that haven't quite faded away.

The suburbs becomes a nest of barbed wire and landmines. Signs saying "MILITARY SECURED ZONE" and "LETHAL FORCE AUTHORIZED AGAINST CRIMINALS". There is only one clear road into it and it soon meets an electrified fence. The crow can see soldiers manning the watchtowers on the other side of the fence. A human, bleeding, staggers to the fence, holding up it's hands in a servile position. A soldier raises his rifle. Muzzleflash. Thunder. The wounded human falls to the ground.

On the other side, there aren't any corpses. No silhouettes, more people. A few lights are on. It is strange. There are lots of people, clearly overpopulation, yet it is curiously deserted. There are hundreds, but this area was clearly meant for thousands. There are a lot of abandoned houses. The crow lands on a bus that people are getting out of. Two soldiers grab a woman getting off the bus. The woman screams. She is quickly silenced by a black bag placed over her face. She is dragged to a military truck, tossed in the back with handcuffs on. The truck drives off, and no-one says anything about it.

The crow takes flight again. There is nothing for it here. Not yet.

Prelude: First Night
Ghost

They call you Ghost, and you're okay with that.

This bar doesn't have a name. It's the only place in the Green Zone that serves actual beer. Okay, it's 3 quarters water, but the other places don't even have the courtesy of putting any beer in the water. The owner has a brewery in the back. You helped him a few times to gather some water for the beers. The fucker didn't give you a permanent discount, as you were hoping, but he did get you some ration cards. You spent them on more beer and a ration, which you ate. You drink your last pint, finishing off the last of it. At least in the badlands, you could find beer, even if you had to look for it in the rubble.

The barkeep grins and pats you on the back. "Looks like that's your last, buddy. Want a walk home? You had a little much."

If you could talk, you would have told him to go screw. Instead, you shrug and stand up. You're barely tipsy, the beer's that watered down. You walk out of the house, adjusting your scarf as you look around the Green Zone. Nothing's improved since you got here. People thought it'd just be like before the war, but the army's so over-stretched they can barely supply one Green Zone, and they've got eight that you've heard of. Apparently they're even worse then this one. You spare a minute of silence for those poor bastards that are even less lucky then you.

You go into your house, an old bungalow, then lie on the bed. It squeaks below you. There is the slow tapping of water falling from the ceiling into a nearby bucket. You wonder what you're going to do about food in the days to come. You wonder about who can supply you jobs, who can get you this, get you that. It seems since you got here, it's nothing but worries.

You sigh, a warbled choking sound, and bring the blanket around you. You sleep with your clothes on. No heating means you feel the cold with your clothes on and a blanket wrapped around you. You close your eyes, and begin to feel the cold drift away into a dreamless sleep.

Alexis Jade

You hate dealing with guys like this. He's your average thug, leather jacket and ripped denim jeans. He's got two buddies beside him. One's wearing an army beret, though he isn't army. Even if you've dealt with people like him when things were really chaotic, when there wasn't even one army soldier around, you still feel a little nervous.

"Way I see it, you ripped me and my friends off." he says, cracking his knuckles like he's in a movie. "We were going to give you one ration. Not two."

You say that you took the extra ration for risk to yourself. The job ended with you almost taking a bullet for these punks. Your dogs can sniff out the food on a scavenging mission and warn you when another scavenger's coming your way, but that doesn't mean they can detect when an army sniper can see you trying to get back into the Green Zone.

"You knew the risks. You are going to give back all the rations, or we fuck up that pretty face of yours." He takes out a cleaver, and his friends take out a wrench and a welder. "You don't try ripping us off and get away with it."

You inform them that actually, yes, you do try and do that, and that they better look around quickly or they won't see what they deserve. Unfortunately, they don't heed your information in time. Your dog leaps onto the back of the leader and bites into his throat, and the other two run off screaming. You wave your pet away from him, and walk away. You can hear him puking, probably in fear. He's not as half as afraid as you are.

Even with martial arts, if your dogs weren't there, you'd probably be dead meat. That was a real close call, and you're not sure if you want to do that twice. Oh well. At least you got food out of it.


Old Man Lee

Not much has changed for you, really.

Okay, things are a lot weirder, but really, you're a farmer. You're used this kind of crazy stuff. Animals do weird things. They've just gotten weirder. You kneel on the ground, scratching your head. The chicken in front of you has eye stalks now, and sharp talons. You're pretty sure your chicken has been cursed by god, the devil, Odin, whoever. It's just pretty clear that your chickens have now become crimes against nature. At least the eggs are still normal and they haven't killed many people. You stand up and close the roof on the chicken coop, then walk back to the ranch. You pity any foxes who decide to try and get some chickens, as they are almost certainly going to die painfully and alone.

A fence divides your land in half, of barbed wire and landmines beyond that. Outside of your farm plots of dead plants, you can see nothing but dirt for miles. You asked the army to maybe move the fence a little away from your land so that the chickens don't end up impaling themselves on the wire and leave you with one egg less. They said no. You called them fascist miserly whippersnappers and had to be escorted out of the office. At least you managed to cash in your rations, and got two out of it for "farmwork" when you sold those eggs to those army men. You walk into the ranch, so quiet nowadays since your kids went off and had their own kids then probably died.

You walk up the stairs with each step making a loud thud. In your bedroom, there's a bottle of pills, and it's only got three left. You take one. You'll need to get some more soon, but you're not sure how. You sit down on the bed, made for two but that's long gone now. It's just you now. You and the chickens that have been warped by radiation or chemicals or whatever horrible stuff is floating around in the air. You take off your boots and go to sleep after an eternity of staring up at the ceiling. Maybe it'll be better tomorrow.

You see her in your dreams. She isn't like she was when you called the ambulance and watched her being walked out by two doctors so long ago, her eyes blinded by her fried brain. She's young, and so are you. It's a memory, yet it isn't. It's every moment you had together before you said "I love you" to her, and finally sealed your fate. You hold her hand as you stare up at the clouds with the green grass soaking your clothes with dew. She's grinning, and you know you are too. You both know you love each other, but it's too early to say so. You just enjoy the silence before you say the words.

When the light wakes up, you wonder why you're crying. You don't remember what you dreamt.


Wade Blue

The woman looks at you with a cold look in her eyes. She's in army gear, gasmask hanging around her neck, and she's got a long scar down her cheek. Probably joined up a month or two after the Disaster. She doesn't seem like a recruit. She's too professional, but she doesn't look as beaten down as the vets.

"My men need whores. I don't approve, believe me, but they're going crazy without any fucking. I've heard reports..." she looks away for just a second, then looks back. "You know people."

You say you're not sure if you know of any women who would suit army standards. She laughs bitterly.

"Army standards. Look outside. That's army standards. I'll take anything."

You shrug, leaning back in your chair. You found the desk in an old house in the Green Zone (A phrase which you have found to have replaced "It fell off the back of a truck") and it's done you well for making you look like a businessman. You say you can make inquiries for a price. Another ration card going missing wouldn't go amiss.

"You're bleeding me dry, Blue." She takes out a ration card and slaps it on the table. You take it and slip it into your pocket. "Make inquiries. Just do it quickly, or maybe I'll note the fact we have a convict in the Green Zone in my next report." She stands up and leaves, the threat left hanging in the air. You stand up and walk to the kitchen, opening the bare fridge. Two rations, you will pop by and get a third before the army supply truck goes. You don't mind walking in the dark. People worry a thug might rob them. You worry there won't be anyone to rob.

You may not do the thuggery yourself, but you're still a criminal. A felon, even. You walk to the bedroom and sit down on the bed, in the darkness. Emily lies in the bed, quietly snoring. Your wife's so beautiful when she sleeps, but you can see her ribs. You may live a life of comfort but compared to the old days it's nothing. Even at your poorest you never saw her like this. You sigh and look away, then get your coat and go out for the night, trying not to think about what you're going to do when the food runs out and you've got the rest of the week to worry about. You just enjoy the relatively peaceful night, and the hazy echo of the moon's light through the clouds.

Edgar Winter

Your eye, or lack thereof, itches. Under the eyepatch, it still feels like it's there. They call it phantom limb syndrome, but it usually happens to amputees. You guess you're an amputee. Losing an eye isn't something you shrug off. You smoke a cigarette as Peter explains to you why he fucked up this time. Peter's a tall man with blond hair and a thick beard, with eyes that always look tired. He doesn't get much sleep. No-one does.

"The army is cutting off their deals with me because I can't supply them with hookers. Where the hell am I going to get a hooker in this place? That hustler Wade, though, he can get a hooker, so I'm broke cos the army's my usual customer and they're off sucking his cock, ironically. So I can't get you as much as last deal, so it'll have to be two ration cards."

You tell him you get him the best stuff he can get. You need to be paid well because you're able to actually repair electronics. Without you, he'd need to forge utility or reward cards just to get his hands on an iPod, let alone a computer. If you keep get paid less and less, you'll walk.

"The thing is, I'm not paying you less and less. This is only a hitch, I'll get this all sorted out next week, I promise. You can still get your hands on food, right? It's just for a week. Business will pick up, I swear."

You note his tendency to make promises, but say nothing more. He passes you two ration cards and walk out of his "office", really a living room, and out of his damp house. You see the lights of the army truck up ahead, and walk up to the army recruit handing out rations to a few people. You make small talk with him as he takes two packets of rations out of the truck and passes them over to you. You don't know his name, but you do know he seems like a pretty nice guy. He doesn't kill people who don't deserve it, unlike the psychotics on the watchtowers. You say goodbye as you walk home. Two rations. Unbelievable. For a week until the army gets back here. What a mess. When you were a techhead at the radio station, the most of your worries was that those annoying shockjockeys would spill coffee on the radio controls and you'd have to make an extremely quick and panicked repair. Ever since you had to explain that war had been declared because the regular news anchor was trying to commit suicide cos he heard the news first, everything had steadily got worse and worse. You knew nothing was ever going to be the same when you flicked on the controls to begin the Emergency Broadcast. The airwaves belong to the automated system and the army now. You wouldn't be lying if you said that the world was like that nowadays.

Hard to believe you're relied upon now. You're the only person who can repair things and hasn't been recruited by the military. Not that'd you mind. A ration for doing army work wouldn't be so bad. The reason why not is because it's too restrictive, too little materials. However, if things get real bad, it wouldn't be such  bad idea.

You unlock the door and fall to the couch. You never knew how tired you could be. Back in the old days, he'd be still on the computer looking at gaming forums and watching porn. Now, you had to do so much work you were ready to sleep at 9pm sharp. You close your eyes, and you're so tired that your mind can't even bother to dream.

What shall you all do tomorrow? Remember, you will start out at four hunger tomorrow, and it will only start decreasing from then on.
« Last Edit: August 02, 2013, 09:09:06 am by Fniff »
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Grek

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The doctors said that Lee was lucky.

They said that if he hadn't been looking in the fridge for the milk that morning, if the door hadn't been in the way, he would have gotten it just as bad as Julia and neither of them would have made it out alive. It's a funny thing, that. A little metal door, all the difference between death and the sad little life he has now. Sometimes he wonders if that's the truth. If he had known what were coming, he'd rather have died then and there, sizzling eyes and all, than go on without her.

But he remembers her words, so long ago, on a quiet night. "If the Lord calls me on before you, I want you to carry on. Don't you mope around for years without me, Juan. We'll see each other again in the end. I promise." He had to keep going. Find the strength, somewhere, to live without her. What else could he do?

As Lee tended to the chickens, opening the gate to the yard and counting them as they went by, he mused to himself. They had started him on the pills years ago, back when there were doctors still around to give prescriptions and pharmacies to fill them. It was for his legs, they said. Feet, really. The radiation had done something to them, the only part of his body that had been exposed. They were a nasty color now, a new one every day it seemed sometimes, painfully swollen and covered in ugly boils.

The doctors said it wasn't cancer, exactly, but that if he didn't take care it would spread through his body and that would be the end of Juan Lee. And so they started him in on the special shoes that didn't hurt his feet when he walked, the painfully tight orthopedic socks for his circulation and the pills, to keep the sickness in check. He didn't have the socks any more. And the boots weren't exactly prescription, just lined with felt. But he kept with the pills.

The old man got his shovel and began to dig. The birds, in defiance to the natural order, had begun to bury their eggs in the earth, as if they were seeds. He knew not what crop they intended to harvest, or why the birds made no effort to stop his digging, but so it was.

He supposed that he could try to find a pharmacy, but the odds of him finding what he needed and the odds of an army patrol catching him at it made that look like nothing he wanted to do. He was an old man and he certainly didn't run as fast as he used to. There was nothing for it but to pray that he could dig up enough eggs to buy what he needed off one of the many smugglers in the Green Zone.

((Going to scavenge for eggs on my farm. That'll be three food scavenging rolls at +4, if I understand this correctly.))
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Dwarmin

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You know you're not a hero. You're not even a good man. Wade thought, looking up at the the impermanent moon.

If it wasn't for this mess, you'd still be in the pen, where you belong-and Emily would still be with that doctor. The nice looking guy who had been laying in the yard with the hole in his side.

A scrim of dark clouds scudded past. He looked down at Emily, stroking her hair gently. No nightmares tonight, he thought.

What did she do to come to this Hell? I deserve this, for all I've done-I deserve my punishment. She doesn't. She never did.

....

Wade, in fact, found the wastes to his liking. It wasn't unlike prison. Always someone needing something. No rules-that prison honor thing was mostly bullshit. If you were weak, they killed you. The only difference this time was, in his own mind, the guy with the truncheon was death itself-good old Warden El'Morte, and everyone was scheduled to walk the mile eventually and face their sins. Oh, the soldiers walked the walk. But he saw their shaking hands. He would come for them as well. It paid no difference. They all belonged here, in Hell. This was now a world where a person like him could thrive-and that was the real horror of it.

He wondered about the old days, often. Not as much as some people-that was dangerous, that way of thinking. Some people were still quite convinced that the President (being portrayed by Bill Pullman, of course) would come riding out of the sky in a fleet of sleek army helicopters to whisk them away to the 'Real America'. Most of these people were still waiting, when Wade found them.

Ah, but the old days. Wade had been what they called a 'gentleman con'-which meant he was rumored to sleep with lots of women while making money with little effort-but he had rarely resorted to violence...though if he had to, he didn't hesitate. He had been rare in that he had stayed more or less faithful to his wife, even when playing it close to the vest with a sweet girl, but who would ever believe that? Emily sure didn't.

He had pickpocketed crowds, stole grocery money from steel mill workers on stacked card games, bilked lonely idiots out of their fortunes, impersonated CEO's at rich hotels, stole cars by bribing valets, picked up credit card numbers and of course, cheated casinos himself. A few bump and dump insurance scams. Had helped a few lawyers set up slip and falls. Of course, at the end of the day-lay aside the glamor and romance of it...and he was just another thug with a nice smile, one who ruined lives to enrich his own.

...

The soldier womans threat was laughable, as it was meaningless. They both knew the soldiers really needed no excuse to visit someones house, kick down their door, kill them or take them away for 'interrogation'. He had been tempted to ask her 'Who reads your reports anymore?', but no, that would be impolitic. No, let them pretend. Army Helicopters, Bill Pullman, everything is gonna be ok...He had noted a disturbing trend, not long after he arrived. He had watched the soldiers at first, carefully manning the towers and streets, not being really hardassed but doing their jobs right. They had even gone doubles on rations one week, totally unannounced, and was that a business coup. He had watched an old soldier sneak chocolate bars to a dozen kids, and he smiled on both sides of his face-because it was nice, and because it was his chocolate that was going to feed them. The guy would make it up to him...but he wasn't hard on him. Hell, Wade had even helped him out after. The children (it seemed there were more children back then) had called him the Candyman.

The Candyman was dead now, probably-no body, no nothing. Judging by the guilty little rat looks on his squadmates faces (Wade was good with faces, could remember almost everyone he met) he could guess that had killed him or turned him into the wastes. Probably for giving out too many chocolate bars-or maybe just having a conscience in Hell.

In truth, Wade thought most of problems came from the fact that all these soldiers were truly powerless to change the outside world, as much as so as he or anybody. All the guns and training and hoorah didn't change the facts-there was no enemy to advance against, no position to seize, no objective to accomplish, no mission to complete. So they turned their aggression on the people they had once vowed to protect-and eventually, against each other. Wade understood this feeling very well.

...

He looked at his hands, which shook slightly. Dealing in women. It was sick, but he knew he could do it, even if he had to become what amounted to a pimp. There were hungry women, too. They would do what they had to do. What was the alternative?

He had a nightmare image of Emily writhing under a soldier (the one he had seen who killed that man with his rifle butt, who he saw most days still on the fence), and she was crying, but what could she do? Wade had fucked up, shot and buried in a ditch, and now she was selling herself to keep from starving.

He almost retched, but caught himself.

No, no, If he did this right...everybody wins.

Everybody wins The magic words that erased all guilt. Even if it was bullshit.

It wasn't like him to think this hard. Wade shook it all away. It was easy. He touched the ice in the middle of his heart, or maybe it was his heart was ice entirely, and all emotion and passion ceased. A that moment, his eyes were dead, little different than the things which wandered just outside the fence.

Action: Tomorrow, Wade will start looking for women.
« Last Edit: August 02, 2013, 06:07:59 am by Dwarmin »
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Dwarmin's fell gaze has fallen upon you. Sadly, Your life and your quest end here, at this sig.

"The hats never coming off."

SomeStupidGuy

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((Dammit, Dwarmin and Grek. Now I feel all compelled to try and actually write stuff.))

Edgar's eye flitted open unsteadily, reflecting his unwillingness to get up. He shook his head, getting rid of the notion. Can't waste time like that, at least, not anymore.

Used to be he'd get a nice bit of rest at the station, after all, he was decent enough at the job to not be needed excepting the occasional emergency. The manager never would listen to that. Such a loud girl, he reflected. Always on him about 'respecting the job' and 'proper work ethic'. And who should be the first one out the door when the first unfortunate bit of news came through?

Ah well... She was right, at least, considering the current situation. Any time not spent working's time wasted, after all...

Of course, most people down at the station didn't fair too well. Not much call for a pleasant-sounding voice lately. He smirked, fully aware of how immoral feeling pride for such a thought was, but then, it was true. Only person he recalled seeing recently was one of interns. Never truly got to know the kid, but apparently he believed differently, begging Edgar for a ration card or two, then mentioning 'old times' and anecdotes, that oddly enough, Edgar couldn't quite recall. He let the kid down softly, saying that if he came across any spare rations, he'd pass them along. It was mostly poorly constructed lies, but it satisfied him.

Probably setting up trouble down the road, but not much to be done for the guy. Not much that wouldn't set himself back, at least. Especially considering the piss poor amounts of food the military's been handing out. If the bastards weren't so stingy... well, he'd still have his other eye.

He sighs, lightly shaking his head. No time to be fantasizing about what could've been. He rises, rubbing his eyepatch as the final remnants of that thought leave his mind. He gets started on his simple and brief morning routine, checking up on his tools and doing a few light stretches to wake himself up. He walks out the door, toolbox in hand, locking the door behind him.

As Edgar walks down the crumbled sidewalk, he finally starts to fully wake up, a simple bare-bones plan entering his mind, one to try and find a bit of work doing some freelance repairs for the military.

((Hopefully that isn't (entirely) terrible. :v))
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Your favorite pinko progressive nerd-gal. Probably.

RangerCado

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((Arghiblarga! Obligation!))

Ghost slowly rose as sun streaked through their boarded windows, illuminating their dreary home. He considered taking his bow with them but knew that that would draw even more attention to themselves than what they already got. They slowly rose and checked their map of the greenzone, checking their notes for potential jobs.

Sighing, they wrote out a note to their hopeful next employer, explaining they'd would take the job of scouting out some of the recently collapsed buildings in one of the many slums of the town. It wasn't at all illegal, and the military encouraged it if you handed over any fire arms you found to them. They wrote they'd do it for a five Day's ration cards with the promise of not tipping off anyone else about their finds. They left quietly as to not disturb those still sleeping, had to practice stealth occasionally now and then, they thought as they went to find the guy offering the job in one of the food depots.

Search for a scouting job of recently collapsed buildings.

((I'm not much of a writer sometimes... And are we allowed a knife on hand at all times considering how common knives are?))
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The best ship is the one where one of them is literally allergic to the other~
Quote from: NakaTeleeli
"A room ain't messy less you can't find nothin!"
[/quote]

Fniff

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(Fraid not. What you see in the inventory is what you get.)

RangerCado

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((dang, i'll remember to get my bow if i get the job.))
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The best ship is the one where one of them is literally allergic to the other~
Quote from: NakaTeleeli
"A room ain't messy less you can't find nothin!"
[/quote]

Alexandria

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Wandering around patting her dogs heads Alexis considered her options briefly then went back out into the wastelands to find some food.

(( I'll rp more once I meet somebody. ))

Go out hunting and scavenging with my pets. Gather as many supplies of any kind together as I can and bring down any non predator animals I come acorss.
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The darkness was eternal, all-powerful, unchangeable.
She had stared into it for to many years, alone and unblinking, determined that it would not take her.
Now it never would.
Now she was lighting a candle.

Fniff

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Dissident transmission broadcast on a public frequency picked up by most civilian radios at 10:36am, Monday.
“Greetings Brothers and Sisters. For any new-comers I welcome you to our movement. I am Hermano and I work for you. I work for your families. I work for your brother, your sister, your mother, and you father. I work for the down-trodden. I work for the ones who cannot help themselves. Our goal is, as it has been for generations, liberation. Liberation from the iron fisted dictatorship we live in. From the military. The Mills say that they work to protect us. That without them we would all be starving and that we would all be dead. These are slanderous lies.

Only those who work for them are fed. Most of you out there cannot even receive a job. We have no need of further workers. There are no jobs left. These are lies as well.  Farm work would boost the miserable rations that are handed out. However attempting to create a farm to feed your family is an act of rebellion. How many of us have seen “Dissidents” whose only crime was trying to feed their family and friends? Far too many.

What about those of us who voice discontent? Even a simple “I think they could be doing better”? Well those poor souls are taken away and never heard from again. It is time for a better life. It is time for Liberation!

Now some of my compatriots have yelled and prayed and hoped for armed conflict. Not yet my family. Not yet. Soon. However our numbers are small. An armed conflict now would only result in all of our deaths. Simply wait a while longer my family. Suffer for only a while longer. Salvation and Liberation are on their way. Only a while longer. I assure you that we at the Liberation Front are doing all we can. There will be a better tomorrow in just a while longer.

We are moving to Broadcasting Station B. If you can wait just a while longer we shall be a force to be reckoned with. Remember my family: Just a while longer. This is Hermano and I want all of you to stay safe. Farewell."

Day 1

Ghost

The rain patters onto the dirt, creating mud. That's the best it can do, in the circumstances. Except perhaps within the Grey Forest, there isn't much plantlife to speak of anymore. You found more plants when you walked the badlands, but it seems the Green Zone is not a place for safety. [20] You see the guy leaning against a door, and he's exactly the sort of guy who needs a job done. He's a scarred veteran, wearing an army surplus jacket and beret. You walk up to him, but obviously don't say anything.

"You Ghost?" he said. "I heard you don't talk that often. You do jobs, right?"

You nod.

"Well, there's a house on the edge of the Green Zone, 226 Westmore Road. It's the white one on the corner. Don't ask why you gotta check it out, but if you find a bag with some ration cards in it, I'll let you have whatever you can find in the house, and a ration card for your trouble."

It's shady, but you can deal with it. You nod and shake on it, then head in the direction of the house. You know the part of town it's in: it's not a good place. The town around here is practically crumbling in on itself, no-one to live in it. Everything' been smashed and burnt and ripped to pieces, and then left to rot. The white house on the corner of Westmore Road is no longer white, and is more a stained grey. You smash a window in the back and climb through, into the darkness, then begin to look for the ration cards.

[3] [1] You look under a bed in the bedroom, then open the closet. There is a clicking noise, and you find yourself at the end of a metal tube attached to a complex mechanical rigging. [13] You step aside in time to avoid an arrow firing right at your stomach. It hits a wall, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You search the rest of the house, and find no bags with ration cards within. You decide to check for anything else of value within the house.

[3] [4] Nothing remains that isn't nailed down. The fridge is filled with gone-off food, the shelves empty, and even the drawers are simply gone. At least there aren't any booby traps. A trap to guard a long deserted house. How ridiculous. You head out of the silent home and back to the army surplus soldier. He looks at you up and down.

"Where's the bag?" he asks. You shrug.

[9] "You promised me the bag." he says. "I'm not giving you my ration cards, but... thanks for taking your time out. Here." He tosses you a can of baked beans. "For your trouble."

He walks away from you, leaving you with your new can of baked beans. It looks like the majority of houses you'll search in the Green Zone will be most likely empty. It's never simple for you, is it?


Alexis Jade

[17] You managed to sneak out into the proper wilderness, under the cover of the darkness of the early morning. An army floodlight almost managed to expose you, but several panicked moments hiding under the car with your dogs managed to shake them off your trail. Now you're fully in the Deadlands, the local's name for the area in and around the Green Zone that isn't forest or city.

You wandered off the main highway a few hours before, when the sun started rising. Some parts of the Deadlands are desert, others are plains, there's even woods here and there. The area you're in is full of high grass that glows in the sun with a yellow tint, shaking stiffly in the breeze. A few hills surround you, and you note a few tracks of animals. The wolves go their separate ways to scout ahead, while you crouch and scan the area for animals.

[4] There aren't many animals around. Life in the Deadlands is few and far between, as one would suspect from the name.

[10] An engine starts in the distance, and you lay down in the grass fully, seeing a truck full of nasty looking types in leather jackets and gasmasks, wielding shotguns and scrap swords. Wasteland raiders, worst kind of criminal. Too insane for the Green Zone, taking so many drugs their brains are fried. Their truck is weathered and damaged, with an improvised steam engine. Your heart skips a beat when one of them looks in your direction. What these guys do to woman (And men too, depending on the circumstances) is not to be thought about. The guy looks away, and you breathe out.

The truck eventually moves out, but that only underlines the fact you have to keep moving or you might find something else. You look around for animal remains, because if there are raiders in the area then they'll be hunting animals.

[12+1=13 thanks to butcher kit] [6+1=7] On the ground, barely hidden by grass, is a dead raccoon. It's basically healthy, apart from a few eyes in the wrong places, and it seems to have been shot by buckshot, it's guts hanging out. It's only been killed recently, as the flies have only just gathered. You take out your butcher's kit and gut the animal, getting as much usable meat as you can get. The amount you have would be enough for three portions, enough for a day. You eventually come out with two portions. You whistle, and the wolves come back. One of them has a dead rabbit in it's mouth, which is too eaten to be useful. You roll your eyes and start heading back to the Green Zone. Under cover of grass, then eventually broken down cars and ruble, you make your way out of the Deadlands and back into the Green Zone.

You feel a lot safer within the barbed wire encased Green Zone then you did out there, with the wilderness stretching forever beyond. That's one of the few things you could say about the military occupation that isn't a critique: they keep you safe.

Old Man Lee

Your knees creak as you kneel down, parting the dirt that you shifted with the shovel, trying to find some eggs. It was hard-going trying to shovel through the dirt: the ground's practically frozen nowadays. What used to constitute "winter" now lasts almost half the year, while summer now only consists of two weeks of a hazy warmth. There's a lot more fires being lit nowadays, that's for sure.

[3+4=7] [20+4=20 capped] [20+4=20 capped] A grin lights up your face as you find a veritable bounty of food. 20 eggs! From three chickens, that's a borderline miracle. God really smiled on you today. You gather up the eggs in a basket, then head to town. You'd be skipping to town if your legs worked right, but since they don't you just limp to it.

This neighborhood used to be so nice. Friendly folks, hospitality, the way a proper town should be. Now it's full of military thugs, crazy gangsters, and menacing young people. Of course, the thugs keep the gangsters in line, the gangsters can get you stuff the military forbids, and the young people usually get themselves killed fairly quickly.

You approach a young man with red hair whose name is Rederick Stuart, though they call him Red. He's a scumbag and a smuggler, but at least he's sort of polite to you. Poor bastard has a mutant daughter. You can tell he loves her, and that's the sad thing. He nods to you, smiling like a friendly snake.

"Morning, old man." he says. "Whatcha got for me?"

You give the propisition. Find some medicine for you. Payment up front, since you know Red's not going to rip you off like some of the other losers around here.

"What's the payment?" he asks. You present him with the eggs. He nods and takes [4] 12 of them. You raise an eyebrow and remind him you have to eat too. [18] He drops three back in, leaving a fairly good amount still in the basket.

"Thanks for the eggs, I guess. She'll like them. We barely get any rations even if we have the right cards. Those guys down at the army base don't like me much. I dunno why, I provide valuable target practice. I'll get back by nightfall, I'll see if I can't pick you up a few of your pills." he says. "Have a nice day, old man."

You go back home and spend the day rearranging your furniture and trying out your new past-time, throwing rocks over the fence and seeing if you activate a landmine. It's like rock skipping except with more explosions. It messes with your hearing like nothing else, but it's certainly a rush. Who knew the end of the world would be so dull? As night falls and you light the candles, you hear a knocking at the door.

[10+1=11] [8+1=9] [10+1=11] Red's wearing his gasmask and urban camo. He takes a pill bottle out of a dufflebag and tosses it to you. You catch it, and look at it. The label says it's your prescription. You thank him, and he nods. You shut the door, then go back up to your room.

Wade Blue

Emily looked so optimistic when she heard that broadcast. Her eyes brightened, and she listened intently until the broadcast was over. She asked you if you thought it could be true. You said that she should turn the radio off, if the military hear that you were listening to it they'd be angry. She said, "Let them be angry". You turned the radio off yourself. Thirty minutes later, you kissed her goodbye and went to do the dirty business.

According to some magazine you read, the military is always on the look-out for the ideal "warrior" personality. One of the parts of this is that the warrior shouldn't be interested in girls. It wasn't unreasonable, since guys tended to say things that should be kept quiet to a woman they just screwed, even a hooker. Problem is, it's fairly rare that you find a guy with zero sex drive, so you gotta accept the fact they're going to be screwing like rabbits after they just risked their lives on the field. Nothing's better then sex after utterly risking your life.

Problem is, what if there isn't any more hookers? It's the oldest profession, but so was farming and no-one's farming right now. You guess it's up to you to restart the business.

You look around for any pretty women. They're harder to find then usual because everyone's caked in dirt, ruddy from sunburn, and have suffered slight dental breakdown. [16] However, you see one girl, probably in her early twenties. She's not exactly a supermodel by old world standards, but she's a goddess nowadays. She's got short blond hair, hazel eyes, and it looks like she's been eating well enough not to be horrifying when it came down to business. You walk up to her with a winning smile and start talking. She's a nervous, fluttery sort. You say you've been assigned by the army to find proper applicants for a unique job. You keep spicing it up and getting her interested, offering good pay and a place to stay, and finally bring the hammer down on the actual point: she's going to be a prostitute.

"Er... I'm going to be having sex with soldiers... for money?" she asks quietly, leaning in.

You explain it's for ration cards, and put a little spin on the prostitute part by saying she's going to be a "callgirl" instead of a whore. Whore is an unpleasant word. She stares for a moment, seemingly considering it.

[11+2=13] "... I guess I could try it..." she says. You say that's excellent, and then say that the army will discuss the specifics of the contract at the base. You ask for her name, and she gives you it. Veronica. A lovely name, you comment, then make your leave. You feel vaguely dirty after that, and head to the army base with your head looking at the ground.

The army woman is waiting outside the army base, a fenced off section of the Green Zone filled with practicing cadets and rookies stacking crates. The female staff sergeant looks at you and asks "Did you find someone? My men can't wait any longer."

You nod and tell her it's all sorted out, then hold out your hands. Girl named Veronica should be popping by fairly soon. She catches the brief look in your eyes.

"Desperate measures for desperate times, Wade." she says, handing you a few ration cards. "I don't like it either."

You walk away from her, not even saying goodbye. You go home to Emily, and perhaps back to some sense of morality. Would she be the only one who'd miss you if you went? Maybe.

Edgar Winter

The army guy shrugs, leaning back on his desk. Outside, a few soldiers star-jump, and you can see that shady guy Wade talking with a lieutenant.

"I dunno." says the army guy. You look back at the army guy. He's a fat bastard, obviously indulging in a little "the rations disappeared on the way to the supply depot, dunno where they went" and skipping exercises. He seems to be a sergeant, one of the higher ones, so that'd make him one of the highest ranked soldiers in the area. What a mess. "I'm not sure what you could do around here."

You say there has to be something. The US Army uses a lot of electronics, thus they have to have something on hand, right?

[3] He shrugs again. "Nope, sorry."

You curse a bit, then make your leave. Outside you pass the exercising soldiers and look around the yard. This used to be a big school, now it's as close to a military base you can get around here. In the bell tower they have snipers now, and the classrooms are used as storage for ammo. You heard rumors the army around here has a helicopter and a tank, but that's just that: rumors. It's amazing how standards dropped. It wasn't so long ago this country spent the most money on the army then any other, now having two combat vehicles is by itself impressive.

You walk over to a few soldiers sharing a smoke by the swings and ask them if they have any need for an electrician.

"An electrician?" asks one, a guy with goggles and a camo bandana. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

You reply that you have acquired the knowledge of electronics thanks to the education systems of yesterday, which you have been putting to use even after the potential end of the world, implicating that the soldiers present who have not made the optimal use of their training.

[1] "Fuck off." says one. You realize you probably shouldn't have implied they're dumbasses. You probably aren't going to get a job today. You slink back home, defeated.

RangerCado

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Ghost gives a throaty sigh when they woke up the next morning. They felt annoyed about how little their last job had payed off but every little bit helps. They could have not been payed at all, or killed. They got up and checked their board, trying not to think about the broadcast that they had heard earlier that day. Although what the man said was true, open warfare wasn't going to help much when everyone has to start picking sides. They sighed and looked at a couple of the more difficult jobs they had heard about. Another scavenging mission of an abandoned military compound outside the Green Zones seemed promising. Although most weapons and ammo were likely looted, you never knew what could be left behind. They grabbed their bow and went out to get the job, hoping the reward was worth the risk of getting shot at.

Get a job to search abandoned military installations outside of the Green Zone, hunt any small game seen on the way.
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Dwarmin

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Wade has listened to the broadcast, feeling in his mind a distinct emptiness. Regimes come and go. If the 'Liberation Front' came around, he'd do business with them too...in his own mind, though, the army-for all their stupidity, their violence-kept a secure perimeter. Nothing got in, and nothing got out...well, almost nothing...

Emily said something that he filed away. He knew she couldn't stand sitting around all day, waiting for him to bring food. If the 'Hermanos' were looking for recruits, she'd be an easy catch. She would do something, if they asked, he thought. And if he pushed the other way she'd be more likely to do it.

He had to be careful, for her. She was brave...but she wasn't smart like he was, when it came to doing these things. A careless phrase, a slip of the mind, and they would both be dead in a flash.

...

Images of Veronica flashed through his head. She wouldn't be young for very long, if she lived. That sort of work aged you fast..if it didn't kill you. Hopefully-and somehow he doubted it-they would treat her right, and he could maybe get more girls for them-and more cards. And he hoped that, of course, he hadn't just sent a woman to a truly horrible death at the hands at that pack of animals.

In truth, it was all out of his hands. He looked at the ceiling and wish he had something to smoke. He twirled an empty dollar bill between his fingers for lack of anything else to hold, put it in his mouth, grinned without humor.

He looked at the 'reward card' in his other hand. It was green, instead of brown. That was special, right?

...

Wade's hands had killed before, but he didn't prefer to use them-in fact, was meticulously clean in all ways, and kept his fingernails trimmed gently to the quick. He found that, after a mark trusted your face, he had to trust your hands. Both were illusory of course. The face was lying, the hands could kill. But they didn't know that.

When called on, he often used a knife. It was in this mood that he found his way to the army supply. Of course, he could use some other things...

Wade was, among other things, a passable cook. His mother had taught him Southern style cooking. It wasn't a skill that had helped him much in his career, but it was the only thing that he called a hobby. And a man like him needed hobbies. Emily had been the one to coax it out of him, when they had first met. He didn't forget.

Rations couldn't be improved much, but combined with some basic staples, they could be stretched alot longer.

What he wouldn't do for a few nice, gutted catfish and breading, Wade thinks...knowing the lakes, though, the catfish were more likely to eat him first. He remembered a disjointed, alcohol and pot fueled story a twitchy young man had been telling in 'The Bar', the one with no name. About a monster fish that stalked the rivers around the green zone, big as a whale, that swallowed people whole who had the foolish idea to take a swim. Others had chimed in, claiming to have seen something maybe perhaps like that, or heard of it.

A small, boyish part of him chuckles at the idea. What a world he lived in, that he couldn't say for certain if it was true or not.

...

He walked the 'streets' to the depot, people scattering from his shade. He kept to the eaves, walking quick but not hurrying. Few people saw him, or noted his passage.

Action: Go barter my reward card for a decent melee weapon, like a knife. If I can swing it, try to get a set of 'cooking utensils' that I can use for cooking-that would probably sound better. Just make sure Knife Included.
« Last Edit: August 05, 2013, 09:22:13 pm by Dwarmin »
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Dwarmin's fell gaze has fallen upon you. Sadly, Your life and your quest end here, at this sig.

"The hats never coming off."

SomeStupidGuy

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Edgar lets out a drawn out sigh, leaning his head forwards against his home's front door, contemplating just how to proceed now.

Idiots. On the other hand, that 'Hermano' - what did that mean... brother? - didn't sound too bad. I mean, he seemed just as stupid - even if he's right in some regards - but maybe I could get a bit of work from 'em? Ah well. Not important now, I suppose they might want something that I might be able to pass along to them, though...

He stands up straight, smirking slightly at this thought.

Gonna need more goods to give to them, 'course. Can't just go on words...


He heads out, pointlessly dusting off his shirt with his unoccupied hand.

Go out to the green zone to try and scavenge for electronics and such, maybe some food. See if anyone who's better armed might be willing to come along.
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Alexandria

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Sitting outside the next day Alexis watched the various people of the town walking back and forth going about whatever it is that they do now the world is over before deciding it's time to get to work and so began walking around the streets asking anybody she came across in the hopes of finding him.


"Has anybody seen "Ghost"? Does anybody know where to find "Ghost"? If anybody sees "Ghost" can you tell him I need to speak with him urgently."
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The darkness was eternal, all-powerful, unchangeable.
She had stared into it for to many years, alone and unblinking, determined that it would not take her.
Now it never would.
Now she was lighting a candle.

Dwarmin

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((I'm going to jump in here and get some party building started. It's not unlikely we'd not see each other or Wade wouldn't notice such an...obvious person. :P ))

Wade felt something was off in the air and be strolled to his destination. Words were floating between groups of people in the street, and he put it together. People should really be more careful.

...

He approached Alexis from the side, smiling pleasantly. His first thought was that she would be an excellent candidate for the 'army'-redheads were always popular with some guys, and who'd mind the scars in the dark? But, his second thought was that she looked tougher than the usual person...like she could fight. Maybe had a will to live. Maybe she had other gifts.

Intriguing.

"Ma'am?" He asked, in a quiet voice. "Word on the street is you're looking for a man named Ghost, right?" He looked around, up and down the street, as if scanning for dangerous persons-maybe a bit overdramatically. He'd love for her to believe there was hundreds of knife wielding thugs bearing down on them at that moment, when in truth it probably was more like a half dozen careening to this general area in search of fresh meat.

"...I know where we can find this Ghost, or at least a hint of where he could be, but...it's dangerous out here, asking around like this. You might attract some bad people, they hear you're out here all alone. Can we find someplace safe to talk? My name is Wade, and I'd like to help you." He said, with an air of friendly camaraderie. He stood at a safe distance, so she wouldn't feel threatened-but all the same, gave her his full measure, could feel her eyes measuring if he was a threat or not, and he made sure to meet her gaze. He was (or considered himself) a handsome man, and used to this advantage.

The choice was up to her.
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Dwarmin's fell gaze has fallen upon you. Sadly, Your life and your quest end here, at this sig.

"The hats never coming off."

Alexandria

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Smiling inwardly Alexis leaned forward to kiss the man on his cheek then whistled quietly as she stepped back letting her eyes linger on his face for a moment and she pouted thoughtfully thinking to herself. Handsome people, even the end of the world can't get them out of there own asses.

"I'm perfectly safe thank you, my 2 young friends see to that. If however your trying to get me to follow you for something a little more.... interesting. I might be interested. "

As she finished speaking her 2 dogs brushed past Wade on either side and circled Alexis before baring there teeth on either side of her.
« Last Edit: August 06, 2013, 10:47:00 am by Alexandria »
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The darkness was eternal, all-powerful, unchangeable.
She had stared into it for to many years, alone and unblinking, determined that it would not take her.
Now it never would.
Now she was lighting a candle.
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