I'd like to introduce an RPG that will be hosted by Qayin and I.
The easiest way to describe it would be: A zombie survival horror.
However the best description doesn't quite fit that. For starters the "Enemies" are not in fact original lore zombies. We've devised our own breed, created for optimum, dare I say it, shock and horror.
It is not combat orientated. Most of the game you may well find yourself sitting alone in a darkened corner wondering if the only other living thing in the room is going to rip out your lungs or not.
Here are some short stories to get into the general feel of things;
------
People aspire to be happy on the day they die. Rick had failed his history test. He had then proceeded to get in trouble for something he hadn't even done. That wouldn't matter, his parents wouldn't believe him, and that scared him gravely as he sauntered back home, as slowly as he could manage, without getting into even more trouble.
His father Edward was among the first infected, Edward worked as a doctor. As Rick walked in to his home he glanced at his father; who was drinking some water, and asked him how he was.
"Yeah... I'm alright, had a bit of... an odd day," He pauses to refill his glass, "And I can't stop drinking this water, I think they must have changed supplier. Or something." Edward shrugged indifferently, clearly satisfied with his opinion, and drank down yet another glass of water. Ed winced as he heard his son pull out the kitchen chair to sit down, and a momentary flash of rage passed his system that asked him to hurl the glass at his son's oblivious head. Shaking his own, innocent head, he expelled the thought and kept on drinking, not noticing the clearly concerned eyes of his son.
His son started humming and he threw the glass.
By the time Rick stood and realised there was blood obscuring his vision, he was being punched to the floor by his father, who was now screaming something that Rick couldn't quite make out. Face down, Rick aimlessly dragged himself away, from his newly psychopathic father, aimlessly. Ed kicked his son for five minutes before he ran upstairs screaming. Rick died around half way through this beating.
-----
Every news channel was showing it, and every radio station was playing it - a prerecorded meeting, between an unnamed American official, and select members of the press.
The official; a man past his prime, in a uniform with an incredible number of medals on it, was the only figure shown in the broadcast, reading a prepared statement to the press off-camera. His eyes never left the paper, perhaps never daring to look into the camera, or at the press.
"For approximately twenty-three hours, the health department has been receiving numerous medical reports, eyewitness accounts and testimonies in regards to what appears to be a viral outbreak in and around Detroit."
Murmurs from the press, a few heads bobbing in to view as rising journalists were asked to remain seated and quiet.
"As of this morning, the military was given permission to assess and...contain, this biological threat. Shortly, many areas of Detroit will be under an official quarantine."
Raised voices, and more bobbing heads as two unruly members of the press are escorted out of the room.
"Whilst the potential threat of this virus is largely unknown, it has indeed been confirmed that it is, most certainly, a threat. Civilians within the areas quarantined are strongly advised to stay within their homes, and under no circumstances, must they approach military personnel. Anyone approaching military blockades or outposts will be dealt with. Severely so."
No noise, not one hushed comment from the press, the full meaning sinking in.
"Due to the nature of this virus, and the threat it could pose, anyone approaching quarantined areas, from either side, will be treated as hostile."
Silence.
"I am permitted to take a few questions."
Silence still, until, slowly, hands rose.
"Has the virus been identified?"
"No."
"Has it been seen outside Detroit?"
"No."
"What are the symptoms?"
"That, for now, is classified."
"How is it spreading?"
"That, too, is classified."
"What is the mortality rate? Is this a national threat?"
"...Unknown...and classified."
"What is the origin of this virus?"
"Classified."
Silence again, as it dawned upon the press that this man was only willing to take questions, because he had no answers.
One more hand rose.
"Sir, what the hell is going on?"
"That's classified."
[Credit for this one goes to Qayin]
-----
James sighed, the strap of his slung rifle cutting into his shoulder, with his elbows rested firmly upon the rooftop wall. His eyes flicked back and forth on the inner city Detroit side of the roadblock, by instinct, and he decided it was time to put his marksman skills to use again. The rifle he held looked and felt like a Barret .50 Cal, but smaller, and bolt action. Even though they wouldn't tell him the calibre, he knew that it was probably .375.
Resting its body on the wall, he flicked off the safety and found his target. At the peak of his breathing, he pulled the trigger.
In earlier situations, James had loved that feeling. The anticipation, the wait, the patience required, the shot connecting. However, now, when he looked through his scope to survey his target, what he saw sank his heart. This one had clearly tried to make a break towards the roadblock, (Which at the moment was left vacant, apart from him and another sniper on the other side of the street,) and James had had no choice but to shoot him. Such was the nature of a quarantine.
Placing his hand on his gas mask, specifically designed for marksman to allow maximum visibility, he tugged it down to adjust it slightly and re-slung his rifle. This would not be the last uninfected human he had to kill today.
------
And now the bit we've all been waiting for! I hope.
Character sheet templates.
[Please note that this is an application based RPG. You send me a sheet, and you will be informed whether you're in or not. You may fill and send a character sheet, and it may be denied, as the best canditates will be selected.]
Please also note I want these sheets PMed to me. Less clutter, so questions can be more effectively answered in this thread.
Extra information before you write your sheets: The RP will be taking place in a hotel in central Detroit. A little about Detroit - It is not the nicest of areas, to be tactless it's a dump, relatively lawless for a long time, and pretty much everyone apart from household pets owns a gun. Take in mind, this does not mean your character has to be from Detroit, or even America. In fact, it is encouraged that your character is not from Detroit and a gun maniac. Oh, by the way, if you'd like to know anything else about the infected; That's classified.
-----
User Name: (Forum user name)
Name: (Character name)
Appearance: (What your character looks like, avoid sun glasses and Duke Nukem style haircuts)
Trademark Item: (You can have one, be it a lighter, a briefcase, a parrot, [That last one was a joke])
Background: (Go nuts)
Extra Information: (Anything else you want to add that I haven't covered? Do it)
-----
Questions can be posted here
The easiest way to describe it would be: A zombie survival horror.
However the best description doesn't quite fit that. For starters the "Enemies" are not in fact original lore zombies. We've devised our own breed, created for optimum, dare I say it, shock and horror.
It is not combat orientated. Most of the game you may well find yourself sitting alone in a darkened corner wondering if the only other living thing in the room is going to rip out your lungs or not.
Here are some short stories to get into the general feel of things;
------
People aspire to be happy on the day they die. Rick had failed his history test. He had then proceeded to get in trouble for something he hadn't even done. That wouldn't matter, his parents wouldn't believe him, and that scared him gravely as he sauntered back home, as slowly as he could manage, without getting into even more trouble.
His father Edward was among the first infected, Edward worked as a doctor. As Rick walked in to his home he glanced at his father; who was drinking some water, and asked him how he was.
"Yeah... I'm alright, had a bit of... an odd day," He pauses to refill his glass, "And I can't stop drinking this water, I think they must have changed supplier. Or something." Edward shrugged indifferently, clearly satisfied with his opinion, and drank down yet another glass of water. Ed winced as he heard his son pull out the kitchen chair to sit down, and a momentary flash of rage passed his system that asked him to hurl the glass at his son's oblivious head. Shaking his own, innocent head, he expelled the thought and kept on drinking, not noticing the clearly concerned eyes of his son.
His son started humming and he threw the glass.
By the time Rick stood and realised there was blood obscuring his vision, he was being punched to the floor by his father, who was now screaming something that Rick couldn't quite make out. Face down, Rick aimlessly dragged himself away, from his newly psychopathic father, aimlessly. Ed kicked his son for five minutes before he ran upstairs screaming. Rick died around half way through this beating.
-----
Every news channel was showing it, and every radio station was playing it - a prerecorded meeting, between an unnamed American official, and select members of the press.
The official; a man past his prime, in a uniform with an incredible number of medals on it, was the only figure shown in the broadcast, reading a prepared statement to the press off-camera. His eyes never left the paper, perhaps never daring to look into the camera, or at the press.
"For approximately twenty-three hours, the health department has been receiving numerous medical reports, eyewitness accounts and testimonies in regards to what appears to be a viral outbreak in and around Detroit."
Murmurs from the press, a few heads bobbing in to view as rising journalists were asked to remain seated and quiet.
"As of this morning, the military was given permission to assess and...contain, this biological threat. Shortly, many areas of Detroit will be under an official quarantine."
Raised voices, and more bobbing heads as two unruly members of the press are escorted out of the room.
"Whilst the potential threat of this virus is largely unknown, it has indeed been confirmed that it is, most certainly, a threat. Civilians within the areas quarantined are strongly advised to stay within their homes, and under no circumstances, must they approach military personnel. Anyone approaching military blockades or outposts will be dealt with. Severely so."
No noise, not one hushed comment from the press, the full meaning sinking in.
"Due to the nature of this virus, and the threat it could pose, anyone approaching quarantined areas, from either side, will be treated as hostile."
Silence.
"I am permitted to take a few questions."
Silence still, until, slowly, hands rose.
"Has the virus been identified?"
"No."
"Has it been seen outside Detroit?"
"No."
"What are the symptoms?"
"That, for now, is classified."
"How is it spreading?"
"That, too, is classified."
"What is the mortality rate? Is this a national threat?"
"...Unknown...and classified."
"What is the origin of this virus?"
"Classified."
Silence again, as it dawned upon the press that this man was only willing to take questions, because he had no answers.
One more hand rose.
"Sir, what the hell is going on?"
"That's classified."
[Credit for this one goes to Qayin]
-----
James sighed, the strap of his slung rifle cutting into his shoulder, with his elbows rested firmly upon the rooftop wall. His eyes flicked back and forth on the inner city Detroit side of the roadblock, by instinct, and he decided it was time to put his marksman skills to use again. The rifle he held looked and felt like a Barret .50 Cal, but smaller, and bolt action. Even though they wouldn't tell him the calibre, he knew that it was probably .375.
Resting its body on the wall, he flicked off the safety and found his target. At the peak of his breathing, he pulled the trigger.
In earlier situations, James had loved that feeling. The anticipation, the wait, the patience required, the shot connecting. However, now, when he looked through his scope to survey his target, what he saw sank his heart. This one had clearly tried to make a break towards the roadblock, (Which at the moment was left vacant, apart from him and another sniper on the other side of the street,) and James had had no choice but to shoot him. Such was the nature of a quarantine.
Placing his hand on his gas mask, specifically designed for marksman to allow maximum visibility, he tugged it down to adjust it slightly and re-slung his rifle. This would not be the last uninfected human he had to kill today.
------
And now the bit we've all been waiting for! I hope.
Character sheet templates.
[Please note that this is an application based RPG. You send me a sheet, and you will be informed whether you're in or not. You may fill and send a character sheet, and it may be denied, as the best canditates will be selected.]
Please also note I want these sheets PMed to me. Less clutter, so questions can be more effectively answered in this thread.
Extra information before you write your sheets: The RP will be taking place in a hotel in central Detroit. A little about Detroit - It is not the nicest of areas, to be tactless it's a dump, relatively lawless for a long time, and pretty much everyone apart from household pets owns a gun. Take in mind, this does not mean your character has to be from Detroit, or even America. In fact, it is encouraged that your character is not from Detroit and a gun maniac. Oh, by the way, if you'd like to know anything else about the infected; That's classified.
-----
User Name: (Forum user name)
Name: (Character name)
Appearance: (What your character looks like, avoid sun glasses and Duke Nukem style haircuts)
Trademark Item: (You can have one, be it a lighter, a briefcase, a parrot, [That last one was a joke])
Background: (Go nuts)
Extra Information: (Anything else you want to add that I haven't covered? Do it)
-----
Questions can be posted here
