Stockholm
04-20-2019, 01:37 PM
https://i.pinimg.com/736x/1c/8e/a0/1c8ea0e67e95490e253d2cca99861cd6.jpg
"The name was simple, really."
"To be completely fair, none of us were invited aboard for being creative. We were more... practical than that, you could say. Engineers. Doctors. Biologists, here and there. But none of us were good at coming up with something better than 'The Redlight Crew.' When word got out there was something in the water- in our water, it was a huge quarantine. Everyone was at risk. No one was safe. Yadda yadda yadda. But most of us, and you can ask, waited for about a year in that fucking red warning light. And once the cops stopped coming through, and people stopped returning our transmissions, that's when it hit us that shit had really gone sour. We still are sending out broadcasts. Have been for about a year. Nothing yet."
"Well, I guess it's whatever. This station has no shortage of supplies, and even if they can be hard to find, we can typically find a way to get food. Plenty of crops to grow, and the food synthesizers still work, although they're hard to get to. We can manage all that. Hell, we even figured out why we were safe- we used good old fashioned boiling to clean our water rather than the shit we- they pushed out all the time. So we are pretty well off on resources. No, its once we realized we were left behind by the admins that it got real, real fuckin' hairy. We figured out fast what happened to the quarantined folks. God, I... I still sometimes remember when we opened the hatches to see who was there. It was a group decision; nearly thousands of us were polled, and we thought we should see if anyone there could use some help. Well for fucks sakes did we pay for it."
"Those things- so much fucking water, man. Sweat, it looked like. But chemical analysis says water. They'd pinned em' down, spewed water all over them. I read all sorts of books about zombies, and when that initial swarm busted out, I thought they'd tear the guys apart. But fuck, I think that they had something worse. We never went to space- even a fuckin' water treatment plant, thinking we'd be at risk of drowning. Are they even still human? They walk, run, do all that- but they don't eat, sleep, just drink. I don't know how but they got the water purifiers on and they just drink, all day, every day. We found this out nearly a year ago, and those near thousands of people dropped to the double digits real fuckin fast, at least from what we know. That's three years, about, since it all went downhill. Three years since everything went to shit. And somehow, you made it. You didn't try to kill us like some of the people from Raph's gang, and you weren't drowning in air. So welcome aboard, cadet. Welcome to the Redlight crew."
"God help us."
In the world of 'The Redlight Crew,' your character is a member, new or old, of a small band of survivors following a cataclysmic biological pathogen outbreak. Set in the distant future, your person was, for one reason or another, sent to 'The Halcyon Purification Center.' A water treatment plant and large space station, it was the main purveyor of water to much of the galaxy, mining primarily from the Ice rings of Saturn. Unfortunately, something was in the water- a presumably alien pathogen that shows odd effects on the people unfortunate enough to receive it. The people of the massive station are long presumed lost to the contagion. But you are proof otherwise.
Food and water, while scarce, are manageable. The main fear is the world outside, likely teeming with the once-human inhabitants of the station. A fate worse than death awaits those from these horrors, one we may only hope to avoid. Being holed up in the stations relatively small communications bridge, the only real methods of providing resources for the group is the captains lounge, which has access to water that is then boiled, and the food bay, which sources a wide variety of food for the group. There is much more to be desired, though- bedding is reserved to mattresses dragged in from the living quarters across the station, and the same large bridge, no matter how homey and well kept, is bound to get old. The group often times sends out parties of members together to get what they need. After the removal of weapons from the site after the June Slasher Incident, the group has come to making rudimentary arms from pipes, knives, and tape. Range is a commodity against the drowned men- rather than kill you outright, they will attempt to cause a victim to imbibe some sort of bodily fluid secreted from the creature. This, in turn, causes the victim to turn into one of them.
In order to foster a proper and organized group RP, here are a few guidelines for the IC and OOC chats.
The rules of RPA should be respected and followed at all times. No exceptions.
Keep OOC issues out of these threads. We don't want to see the issues you have with another player, be it in character or out of character.
The writing skills of this RP are to be considered somewhere between moderate and advanced. You don't need to be the next New York Bestseller author, but you should be capable of moving beyond abbreviated and lackluster speech.
Writing length should be no less than three paragraphs per post. I'll be lenient on this, cause sometimes muse runs low. That's okay. But if it is a persistent problem, I reserve the right to intervene.
Godmodding, powerplaying, Mary sues- I mean, I shouldn't have to really go into detail here. The standard no-no's apply!
This RP will be rough. Expect to see some real friction between characters, hopefully. While your character may survive, expect them to change- prior to the fall, they were just average citizens. How would you react to a weird alien water zombie apocalypse several hundred years in the future?
When handling the interactions with the world, I (Sal-T) will be the one to narrate the world, so to speak. In this, you could call me your DM, even though I intend to play with a character of my own. I will not be overly harsh to your character (and I sure as hell will NOT go easier on mine just because he's mine,) but if you run out into the middle of the purification side of things and start screaming, don't expect to get out clean.
I will accept a maximum of ten players, not including myself. I don't expect to reach this cap, but it may happen, and if it does, the recruitment is to be locked.
(Insert optional character image/portrait here!)
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Appearance: (Image refs are allowed, but not required!)
Equipment:
Useful Skills: (Think of what your character offers to the Crew!)
Personality:
Backstory: (Include pre and post-outbreak backstory; be as descript or non-descript as you like!)
Other/Things to Know: (Anything extra you didn't fit in earlier or felt like putting in!)
Also... first post for a group RP like this on RPA. Let me know if I missed anything. Thanks for stopping by!
"The name was simple, really."
"To be completely fair, none of us were invited aboard for being creative. We were more... practical than that, you could say. Engineers. Doctors. Biologists, here and there. But none of us were good at coming up with something better than 'The Redlight Crew.' When word got out there was something in the water- in our water, it was a huge quarantine. Everyone was at risk. No one was safe. Yadda yadda yadda. But most of us, and you can ask, waited for about a year in that fucking red warning light. And once the cops stopped coming through, and people stopped returning our transmissions, that's when it hit us that shit had really gone sour. We still are sending out broadcasts. Have been for about a year. Nothing yet."
"Well, I guess it's whatever. This station has no shortage of supplies, and even if they can be hard to find, we can typically find a way to get food. Plenty of crops to grow, and the food synthesizers still work, although they're hard to get to. We can manage all that. Hell, we even figured out why we were safe- we used good old fashioned boiling to clean our water rather than the shit we- they pushed out all the time. So we are pretty well off on resources. No, its once we realized we were left behind by the admins that it got real, real fuckin' hairy. We figured out fast what happened to the quarantined folks. God, I... I still sometimes remember when we opened the hatches to see who was there. It was a group decision; nearly thousands of us were polled, and we thought we should see if anyone there could use some help. Well for fucks sakes did we pay for it."
"Those things- so much fucking water, man. Sweat, it looked like. But chemical analysis says water. They'd pinned em' down, spewed water all over them. I read all sorts of books about zombies, and when that initial swarm busted out, I thought they'd tear the guys apart. But fuck, I think that they had something worse. We never went to space- even a fuckin' water treatment plant, thinking we'd be at risk of drowning. Are they even still human? They walk, run, do all that- but they don't eat, sleep, just drink. I don't know how but they got the water purifiers on and they just drink, all day, every day. We found this out nearly a year ago, and those near thousands of people dropped to the double digits real fuckin fast, at least from what we know. That's three years, about, since it all went downhill. Three years since everything went to shit. And somehow, you made it. You didn't try to kill us like some of the people from Raph's gang, and you weren't drowning in air. So welcome aboard, cadet. Welcome to the Redlight crew."
"God help us."
In the world of 'The Redlight Crew,' your character is a member, new or old, of a small band of survivors following a cataclysmic biological pathogen outbreak. Set in the distant future, your person was, for one reason or another, sent to 'The Halcyon Purification Center.' A water treatment plant and large space station, it was the main purveyor of water to much of the galaxy, mining primarily from the Ice rings of Saturn. Unfortunately, something was in the water- a presumably alien pathogen that shows odd effects on the people unfortunate enough to receive it. The people of the massive station are long presumed lost to the contagion. But you are proof otherwise.
Food and water, while scarce, are manageable. The main fear is the world outside, likely teeming with the once-human inhabitants of the station. A fate worse than death awaits those from these horrors, one we may only hope to avoid. Being holed up in the stations relatively small communications bridge, the only real methods of providing resources for the group is the captains lounge, which has access to water that is then boiled, and the food bay, which sources a wide variety of food for the group. There is much more to be desired, though- bedding is reserved to mattresses dragged in from the living quarters across the station, and the same large bridge, no matter how homey and well kept, is bound to get old. The group often times sends out parties of members together to get what they need. After the removal of weapons from the site after the June Slasher Incident, the group has come to making rudimentary arms from pipes, knives, and tape. Range is a commodity against the drowned men- rather than kill you outright, they will attempt to cause a victim to imbibe some sort of bodily fluid secreted from the creature. This, in turn, causes the victim to turn into one of them.
In order to foster a proper and organized group RP, here are a few guidelines for the IC and OOC chats.
The rules of RPA should be respected and followed at all times. No exceptions.
Keep OOC issues out of these threads. We don't want to see the issues you have with another player, be it in character or out of character.
The writing skills of this RP are to be considered somewhere between moderate and advanced. You don't need to be the next New York Bestseller author, but you should be capable of moving beyond abbreviated and lackluster speech.
Writing length should be no less than three paragraphs per post. I'll be lenient on this, cause sometimes muse runs low. That's okay. But if it is a persistent problem, I reserve the right to intervene.
Godmodding, powerplaying, Mary sues- I mean, I shouldn't have to really go into detail here. The standard no-no's apply!
This RP will be rough. Expect to see some real friction between characters, hopefully. While your character may survive, expect them to change- prior to the fall, they were just average citizens. How would you react to a weird alien water zombie apocalypse several hundred years in the future?
When handling the interactions with the world, I (Sal-T) will be the one to narrate the world, so to speak. In this, you could call me your DM, even though I intend to play with a character of my own. I will not be overly harsh to your character (and I sure as hell will NOT go easier on mine just because he's mine,) but if you run out into the middle of the purification side of things and start screaming, don't expect to get out clean.
I will accept a maximum of ten players, not including myself. I don't expect to reach this cap, but it may happen, and if it does, the recruitment is to be locked.
(Insert optional character image/portrait here!)
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Appearance: (Image refs are allowed, but not required!)
Equipment:
Useful Skills: (Think of what your character offers to the Crew!)
Personality:
Backstory: (Include pre and post-outbreak backstory; be as descript or non-descript as you like!)
Other/Things to Know: (Anything extra you didn't fit in earlier or felt like putting in!)
Also... first post for a group RP like this on RPA. Let me know if I missed anything. Thanks for stopping by!