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Starmonger
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Void Dreamer
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 Posted: Fri Aug 16, 2013 12:46 pm |  |
Poor Van. Poor poor poor Van
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wirsindallein
Registered
(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧
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Posted: Sat Aug 17, 2013 12:36 am | |
I played...
Eno - A pierce-lipped youth with purple-streaked hair
He didn't last long, because soloscavving sucks. That made me sad. I doubt anyone really cared about him, though, so on we go to the next guy!
Jamie Jalthan - a trim, crooked-nosed young man with one eye
He was fun. I'm gonna miss the Jalthans.
Remiel - a gangling, raven-haired young man
I don't know he died mad fast yo.
He was sort of my "I have no idea what to do so I'mma roll a techie in the Guard because I like both electronics and tophats" character. There wasn't a hell of a lot of thought put behind him, I'm sorry to say. Still kinda fun.
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starsignal
Registered
just a page in someone's book
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Posted: Sat Aug 17, 2013 9:45 am | |
Remiiiii. That was a sad day.
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Starmonger
Registered
Void Dreamer
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Posted: Sat Aug 17, 2013 10:55 am | |
Aw Remi! I'll miss our conversations and rping. Shame he kinda just dropped like a rock, literally. So much unsaid and undone
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Posted: Mon Aug 26, 2013 5:43 am | |
Riv's Atonement PC that never was.
| Description wrote: |
| The man's face is a map of deeply etched lines: planes across the brow, furrows marking the meeting of the eyebrows, and long strokes creasing the skin beneath his cheeks. Other wrinkles are present as well, but these are lesser marks, fainter, as in the laugh lines and the crow's feet which frame the set of the blue of his eyes. The eyes are opaque, crystalline. They seem flat, almost dull. The brow is heavy, and the wide jaw is often unshaven. This transitory beard, like the hair that is cut to a middling length and swept back from the broad forehead, is more silver than black now, with only a few streaks by the temples that bear a consistently darker hue. His physique is unremarkable in all ways, save for the unnaturally twisted length of his right leg, and the turned ankle which belongs to it. |
| Background wrote: |
2363 AD
'I'm not getting any younger, Henry.' He said, squinting down at the board.
'What do you care?' Henry said. 'You've already lost.'
It was true. They had not realized, when they'd begun to play, which game they were reenacting this day. But they had followed in the footsteps of the old masters, now centuries dead, faithfully. And the path wound down to its inevitable conclusion. Gary Kasparov had won this match in 1985. And Conrad Strauss was playing white.
He made his move, the first step of a downwards spiral towards defeat.
'One of these days' he said, 'They're going to skin us alive.'
'That's what it is, isn't it?' Henry said, as he chewed over the next move. 'Think on that, Conrad. What life, what dignity - they'd kill you for the playing of a game.'
'Yes,' he replied, 'A game you stole from your study at the archives.'
'Stole,' Henry said, bitterness creeping into his tone. 'Whom did I steal it from, Conrad?'
He sighed. 'Let it lie, Henry. It's late, I'm tired. Let's not drag it out again.'
'It belongs to the people, Conrad, it belongs to humanity. Chess. And
Shakespeare. And Hammurabi. And Invictus, Invictus!'
'Look, I know. Alright? I know. But literature isn't all you've shared from the caches. You know as well as I what it was like down there. It's not perfect, Henry, but it's WORKING. Damnit all, its working.'
'And the price?' asked Henry, the game, for now, forgotten.
'Well worth the paying,' he replied. He wished, however, that he had the iron certainty of his words.
These were troubling times.
2365 AD
'Dr. Strauss?'
He looked up from his work, his features worn. Haggard. When had he eaten last? It didn't matter. It didn't matter. All that mattered was the work. He glanced back, at the panel of displays, at the readings, the charts.
There had to be, somewhere. A cure. He had to find it. He had to.
'Conrad,' said a familiar voice. An old friend.
'Henry?' Henry the historian. Henry the rebel. Henry the renegade. Henry, of the PFC, held a gun to Travis' head. 'What are you doing, let him go!'
'Will he run? Call the grunts?'
'What? No. No. Travis, come here.'
Henry released the young man, who was still trembling when he came to help Conrad to his feet, help him find his crutch. 'What do you want, Henry? What are you doing here?'
'I knew I'd find you here,' he said.
'I asked you a question,' said Conrad, the anger spilling through, his hands clenched at the crutch as he dragged his foot behind him, towards the man who had once been his friend.
'It's -over- Conrad. Over. Everybody's lost. And there won't be any cure.
You're out of time.'
'What. Are you. Doing here?'
Henry sighed. 'I need you to see the truth! Purity Hospital-'
'Bullshit! Propaganda, and you know it.'
'Do I? Do I? Here.'
A holostick flashed in the air and Conrad caught it. 'Subject 447-B', it read. With a last glance at Henry, he flicked it on.
It showed him. It showed him everything.
2366 AD
Director Gesler lay slumped at the base of his command desk. Conrad had never fired a gun before, never taken a life. It felt strange. Was it enough now, for all that they'd done to him? His leg? Hospital Purity. The name burned.
'Time to move,' said Henry, already moving towards the inner chambers where the last pair of pods awaited them. Or so they hoped. Outside, they could see, through the glass of the walls, that the world was imploding. The chaos was deafening in its magnitude. Fires tore the city, as screaming mobs in fevered desperation tore at all they could lay their hands on.
'They were wrong,' he said. Henry was fiddling with the panel, frowning over the controls. The pods had yet to come to life.
'What?' Henry asked.
'They were wrong, I was wrong.' Conrad said, turning to his friend.'It seems like so long ago, our last game. You were right, then. Look at us now.'
He turned and walked towards where Henry waited at the pods. One was open.
'You remember that game, old friend?' Henry asked.
'Knight to D2' Conrad smiled.
'Rook to D1.'
'Knight. E1.'
'Rook, E1. Game over, Conrad.'
Henry's sudden kick to his knee, his bad leg, came as a complete shock. The pain, the sudden twisting, was intense. He felt himself shoved, heard the clasps taking hold. He was in the pod.
'What...' he began.
Henry's smile was wan, apologetic. Outside, the fires still burned. A tower was collapsing. 'Only one pod, I'm afraid. Other one's shot.'
'Henry!' Conrad should, railing against the clasps, as realisation dawned. 'Henry, you son of a bitch! Don't do this!' 'Man with the gun makes the calls, Strauss,' his friend quipped, even as he tossed the handgun away.
'Henry... don't. Don't do this. You have the history! All of it!'
'Fuck History,' said Henry Debreux, as he slammed shut the door. The sealing locks pressed into place. A deadness settled into the pod, a deep, impenetrable silence. Conrad screamed but could not hear it. Henry's lips moved. But there was no sound.
Goodbye, he might have said.
The SBS Atlas was waiting. The pod sank into the blackness of transit.
For all his years, Conrad Strauss had known no bleaker darkness. |
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Posted: Mon Aug 26, 2013 11:27 am | |
Hunter- I can't even remember what she looks like. Mute vulture, murdered lagatos solo a-lot. Got my first legitimate player kill with this character.
...trying to remember her real name and I simply can't, Hunter personified her.
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Posted: Mon Aug 26, 2013 3:48 pm | |
I thought that was you! I almost cried when I found out she was eated, I adored Hunter, Van did as well.
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Posted: Mon Aug 26, 2013 4:00 pm | |
I'm not sure what you were doing to kill them counts as 'murdering' them.
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Posted: Mon Aug 26, 2013 4:18 pm | |
| Matt wrote: |
| I'm not sure what you were doing to kill them counts as 'murdering' them. |
It was 'hunting' in the most realistic sense of the word. Except of course hiding is like an invisibility cloak. Most large game you shoot in real life either dies right away or bleeds out from the wound. Anyone who bitches about laying traps from the -hunting- skill tree to actually hunt is a little bit retarded.
The fact you have to lay down a tripwire to delay a charging lagato long enough to shoot it and hide is simply a failing/limitation of the game code.
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Posted: Tue Aug 27, 2013 4:59 am | |
Hunter and Van were tons of fun.
I miss them both. 
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