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[Cheesecake]

Few wish to live in the war-wracked world of Decimus Prime, and fewer still live at all. For untold centuries the War has been fought; the reason has been long-lost, the sides all but blurred, with no goal or end in sight. The people of Decimus wage War, because War is all they know.

Yet you and a handful of others seek to know more than War. Legends say that there are more worlds outside of Decimus, countless worlds, each one a drop in the ocean. And one drop is the Promised World, one whose people have never known War. For whatever reason, be it fear of death, a new chance at life, or to merely know something beyond War, you escaped Decimus aboard a mysterious ship with likeminded others, and prepare to find the Promised World.

The galactic road is unknown to you, but the ship's Captain warns that it is fraught with life-threatening dangers, mind-numbing horrors, and things indescribable. But amidst the raging forces of Fate and Chance, in the turbulent sea of the stars, there is the Promised World.

Spoiler: Character Sheet (click to show/hide)

Name: (The culture of Decimus Prime, though long replaced with War, lives on faintly in the many and diverse names of its people.)
Age: (Children below the age of 18 are reared in the shade of a mysterious ruin, and are teleported straight into the fray as soon as they come of age.)
Gender: (War makes no distinction.)

Bio: (A short paragraph or two detailing appearance, personality, and history, etc.)

Aspect of War: (Everything and everyone on Decimus Prime is purposed for War. Not all are purposed the same way; many take to the different faces of War, and identify themselves as one of the Five family members of War.)

• Gun-father (The Gun-father and his adherents religiously maintain their guns and hone both their tools and their skills to perfection.)
• Sword-mother (The Sword-mother's children strive to perfect their Death-Dance - their artistic and ritualistic martial art.)
• Shield-sister (The loving Shield-sister shelters all, and her followers do the same. They entomb themselves in armor or imbue their bodies with unnatural toughness.)
• Praise-brother (The little Praise-brother, whose cheer and smile reinvigorate weary warriors. His followers sing, shout, or scream their fellows to victory, and use their honeyed words and silver tongues to win what weapons will not.
• Orphan (The outsider and his shadows creep from the dark, preferring the company of themselves rather than their family-in-War. They know what it means to grow up alone in an uncaring world, and are fully equipped to keep living alone.)

Spoiler: Mechanics (click to show/hide)

Doing it simple this time.

(1) Worst outcome. (In the worst-case scenario, this could mean death!)
(2) Bad outcome. (Penalized, but not necessarily harmed by the failed action.)
(3) Stasis. (No change.)
(4) Desired outcome. (The desired outcome is achieved, or as close as possible.)
(5) Best outcome. (The desired outcome is achieved as well as further benefits.)
(6) Overshot. (Too much good is bad. Your success will come back to bite you.)

Ship:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The ship is where the active players and those on the waitlist stay. It is an ancient, mysterious ship, manned by a long-dead captain interred into the AI. The ship is the hub of most of the roleplaying that will occur, and places to rest and recuperate between missions and battles.

The ship will slowly inch towards the fabled Promised World, but the closer it reaches, the more dangerous and terrifying it gets until it arrives in the eye of the storm. Encounters will either be scripted or randomly generated (usually both).

Missions:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The closer you get to the Promised World, the harder it will be to survive. Missions along the way allow you to accrue better gear for yourselves and for the ship. They can be generated and given by me through the Captain, or decided by the players. Players may and eventually will die on missions, owing to the dice and player teamwork.

(Will add more info if needed. Not first-come-first-served!)

[FallacyofUrist]

Oh, I'm down for this.

Spoiler: No Somebody (click to show/hide)

Name: No Somebody
Age: 19
Gender: Male

Bio:
With power, there always comes a price. No's price was his name- whatever it was previously, he certainly doesn't remember it now. What does he remember? Two lives. One of a man, a man of magic- yes, he's very much aware that there's no such thing(theoretically), but when No remembers, half the time he remembers of that life, the life of a young mage of the Evil Eye, living in a castle, far, far, away. The other... is what he presumes to be his actual life. His time as a child on Decimus Prime. After all, if that wasn't his real life, how would he have gotten here? No doesn't remember much at times, at other times, he remembers too much from both lives.
No Somebody is a young man, age 19, who would rather prefer to be wearing a robe right now, despite the impracticality of such a thing during war. As much as he hates to admit it, his so-called "fake" life as a mage, when he remembers it, still exerts some influence over him. In his powers, especially. But more on that later. In any case... his dark, black hair, slightly crooked nose... he definitely looks the part of a villain. His pale skin... but does he care about such features? His child-memories care, his mage-memories do not. Oh pity.
No is very aware of the possibility that he is insane.

Aspect of War: No Somebody doesn't fit into the traditional "6(wait, 5?) family members of war". He does not fight with guns, with a sword, with a shield, with words, nor does he work alone... No calls himself a word nobody else uses: Warlock. When he has tried in the past to do magic, it failed- his mage-memories gave an excuse, "lack of aether to fuel the casting", apparently. But what No does have works- some special implants imbedded into his skull, brain, face... basically his entire head. He doesn't remember, in either life, how those got there. But that's not stopping him from using them, with some effort, to induce intense psychological effects in his enemies, from a distance. He doesn't know how they work, or what powers them. But they do, and they've never stopped working.

[O.Wilde]

In!

Spoiler: Anna Jackson (click to show/hide)

Name: Anna Jackson
Age: 23
Gender: Female

Bio: Just survive. That's the mantra that pounds through Anna's head, the words tattooed onto her wrist. Just do your best to survive. That was the battle cry she screamed to her sister when the soldiers came for them, that was the thing that stopped the deprivation and pain from breaking her when she was kept in the prison camp. It drove her to do terrible things, things she never would have done, all justified by 'Just survive'. But, sometimes, surviving is not enough. Four years of surviving left her alone, desperate, hungry, and tough. The loss of her twin sister when she was 22 made her realize that nobody lives forever. In retrospect, she should have known this, being embroiled in war since her 18th birthday, but they had always made it through. Not any more. It was another year before she found a way off Decimus Prime. In the meantime, she survived alone. Starvation, sickness, and isolation took their toll on her, but she eventually found a ship. Nobody she talked to knew where it was going, most didn't even know of it's existence, and even the captain had been vague. Heartbreak and loss drove her to the strange ship, and she hopes, in all of the excitement of the journey and exploration, that she can forget what happened on Decimus Prime.

The first thing you notice about Anna is the hair. Long hair is rare in war, and the long black braid that trails from her head to her ass is an extremely distinguishing feature. She always keeps it braided, a complicated knot that keeps it tight, unable to snag on things around her. Her skin is stretched tightly against her, the product of years of limited food, a pinched face, sunken eyes, lips eternally cracked and sometimes bleeding. Still, she is good looking. Dark skin, punctuated by jet black hair, betrays a long forgotten family history, from before the War. She is average height, a thin wiry frame stretching just over five and a half feet. Her eyes are light, specks of grey and blue floating in the sea of brown and black that is her face. Scars crisscross her arms, as well as the rest of her body, a reminder of the torture she survived in the camp where her sister died. The black, fading ink on her proclaims 'Just Survive' tens of times, a new one for each time the last was damaged by blade, bullet, or shrapnel. They were re-done four times in the camps, when the interrogators slashed letters out of her skin for fun. Before that, twelve times. When she kept them on her arms, they were easy to get to, easily damaged. Since then, she has learned. Now, every major artery is outlined in a string of 'Just Survive'. The next time her mantra is broken on her skin, she'll break it literally, as well.

Aspect of War: Orphan of War

[Comrade P.]

On a second thought, I'll just watch this game. Can't come up with anything interesting.

PTW.

[Salsacookies]

Im up for this, here's a character reservation

Edit: I want to join, but I'm already doing other things, so I won't have time for this.

[Cheesecake]

FallacyofUrist and O. Wilde are in. Bump for more players.

[hops]

Spoiler: Elder Jeanne Alari (click to show/hide)

Name: Elder Jeanne Alari
Age: 47
Gender: Female

Bio: Jeanne was one of the older of the pilgrims. It wasn't only that people of the Decimus War usually die early, but it was also the fact that those who live to her age tended to have given in to living in the eternal War, never hoping to see something else, inured to despair. Most of the times, Jeanne even acted like a typical warrior-elder. She was one of the adherents of the Gun-father who found their life more in the creation and maintenance of guns, tools for their care, and other machines designed to take the lives of others. Despite her relative comforts, she was as worn and tanned as the rest of the elders, her hair white and few, her teeth replaced with sharp blades, and most of her muscles replaced with artificial ones, but her eyes remained sharp and critical.

But she knew that machines do not always have to take lives. She worked in building machines to assist the Praise-brothers in their arts. She built machines that catalogued the names of the dead. She built elaborate timers and contraptions which, although they ultimately caused untold suffering, didn't necessarily have to.

Jeanne wasn't normally on the receiving end of the suffering like what she had done, and she hoped that she might help to deliver a generation away from the suffering, even if she herself didn't survive to see it.
Aspect of War: Gun-father

[Tomcost]

Spoiler: Decidius Farn (click to show/hide)

Name: Decidius Farn
Age: 36
Gender: Male

Bio: Slender but fit, with short black military hair and a brow which is always furrowed. His life was that of a warrior, which is to say, it was mostly uninteresting, given the context. Born in a family with a strict discipline (stricter than most, at least), and some renown, he was quickly trained as a warrior. His father's death when he was young, as common as this occurrence was in Decimus Prime, left him with only his mother to care for him, to train him. He followed her steps in the path of the Sword-mother, and eventually became competent enough. But the pressure of his father's heritage made him eager to show his prowess, and managed to enter the war at the age of sixteen (or rather, he just went to fight, there was nothing to hold him back). He was not prepared yet, but came out of his first combat alive. But, more importantly, he found something else, more important: friendship. Another young girl, perhaps even more ambitious than him, saved his life when he got too reckless in battle, and they eventually grew to become good friends. They made a good team. Her ranged support with his slashing abilities compensated for each other's weaknesses. He even began to trust her. He trusted her so much that he dove into battle like a fool, hoping for her to rescue him again and again. And she did, until she was the one who needed to be rescued, and he was too far away, too confident in himself. Her dying scream startled him, and he barely dodged the blade of his foe. In denial of what had happened, he rushed to her. It was too late. She was dying, and he could not do anything about it. But even worse, she was suffering. He noticed for the first time the agony that war caused. But if war was inevitable, what could he do? The only thing that he guessed was to bring death as swiftly as possible. His trade had not been perfected yet. There will be no more screams.

Decidius's dance of blades is silent and deadly. He dances to a deaf rhythm, letting his twin long blades speak for himself. He is graceful, after long years of practice, and his silent and deadly movements only bring the sound of steel cutting through air, and those of muffled screams, choking under their own blood pouring from the slits on their throats.

Aspect of War: Sword-mother

[Cheesecake]

Cinder and Tomcost are in. Just need two more.

[Nunzillor]

PTW

[SaberToothTiger]

You mentioned six family members of war, but specified only five.

With that, I'm gonna make a sheet.

Spoiler: Catonius (click to show/hide)

Name: Periplectomenus Catonius; AKA Acroteleutium Turpilianus.

Age: 48.

Gender: Male.

Bio:

The self proclaimed protector and defender of the mission, Catonius is, to be put bluntly, delusional. He is deeply obsessed with preserving the past to the point, where the present is a constant struggle and the future an unsolvable riddle to him. While his flesh might be strong, his mind is long destroyed.

After spending three decades shielding and ultimately failing to protect the ones he loved and those he didn't he lost all but a slither of hope, hope that there is a world out there where he will be able to save everything, and by extension, himself. A compulsive hoarder, he is extremely overtaken by the feeling of nostalgia whenever he encounters an item that returns a memory of other times to him. Anything that would stand in his way will be crushed, or will kill Catonius.

Aspect of War: Shield-sister.

[Cheesecake]

You mentioned six family members of war, but specified only five.

With that, I'm gonna make a sheet.

Thanks for catching that There's a sixth one I had in mind, but he doesn't serve any in-game purpose. Fixed.

[Terrahex]

i'd like to join

Spoiler: Tia the Wraith (click to show/hide)

Name: Tia the Wraith
Age: 18
Gender: Female

Bio: Tia remembers that she once had a family, but she it was so long ago, faces and names are an abstract. Where they are, Tia doesn't know. They could be dead or they could just be lost.

Either way, Tia spent most of her life on the war torn streets of a once great city among people who have no sides, people who are just hostile because the world was hostile to them. In her city, everyone is their own side. Not to say there aren't sects or gangs prowling the streets.

In order to survive in such a world, Tia had to steal and brawl for food and water. Lacking much of an education beyond basic reading and writing and math, Tia only vaguely knew about the disciplines. She was a terrible liar, and was terrible at telling another's intentions. She found a rusted blade, but was more of a danger to herself than she was to others. Shields only seemed to get in the way to her. Still, she managed to much about with them until her 12th year, when she managed to find a pistol in the debris, along with enough bullets to fill her hand.

It just felt right. She had to teach herself everything about her gun, but it came easily. She quickly became someone to be feared in her little corner of the world, and her reputation only grew with age. Wearing white, people came to refer to her as the Wraith.

Aspect: Gun Father

[Cheesecake]

Tia's missing her family aspect.

[Terrahex]

yeah I just realized that. fixing now.

My character's probably a bit too powerful for the random nature of roll to dodge and likely won't fit with all the 1's she'll be getting, but fuck it.