|REPLY TO THIS THREAD QUICK REPLY START NEW THREAD|
Jul 26, 12 at 11:22am ^Mirror's Edge: Icarus Rising [M - PM - D/B]
Log in to remove this advertisement
We call ourselves runners. We exist on the edge between the gloss and the reality. The mirror's edge.
Two years ago today, one among us challenged the gloss. Her name was Faith, or at least that's what she called herself. She did have faith. Faith that our city... that our world wasn't beyond saving. Faith that someday its people would be allowed to run again.
That faith cost her her life.
Faith was killed after uncovering a secret government project called Icarus. It sought to train government mercenaries in the art of urban running so they could chase us down, one by one, and destroy us all. And for the first two months after Faith's death they did just that. We don't know how many runners were murdered by the "Angels," as they call themselves, but we found their bodies left to rot on rooftops every day.
But then we learned to fight back.
A man named Neil Elman began to gather runners into groups and teach them how to fight. Not just the disarm-and-run tactics we'd been using--Neil taught us to kill. And so we began to wage a war against the Angels. A war that, to most people, doesn't exist. A war whose battles are fought not in trenches, but on rooftops. A war for freedom. A war for reality. My name is Castus Slate, and I'm reaching out to anyone, everyone who might join us. We need your help.
What a... quaint little tale.
Some in this city would have you believe that the color red symbolizes freedom. I'm here to tell you that the color red symbolizes nothing but the blood that these violent anarchists calling themselves "runners" spill every day. The blood of men who are only doing their jobs to protect us.
These people are dangerous. They are highly trained in urban navigation and can kill an armed man with their bare hands. And now these terrorists are trying to recruit from the population. I must urge you not to acknowledge their offer. If you must stray from a peaceful and secure life, put your skills to work keeping the city safe. Join the Angels, and help us to guard the city from these anarchists.
I have a special address for the "runners." My name is Nick Waters, and as a lieutenant of the Angels I have been authorized to extend a one-time offer. Join us, and your records will be cleared. If you help us to fight the threat of anarchy, you will be allowed to rejoin society. Should you continue to resist, we will be forced to eliminate the threat that you pose.
Icarus has risen, and only time will tell if the sun will shine through his feathers.
Edit: Jul 26, 12 9:36pm
|quote quick quote posts in thread|
|Log in or register to remove this advertisement|
Jul 26, 12 at 11:37am ^re: Mirror's Edge: Icarus Rising [M - PM - D/B]
All forum rules apply. No godmodding, no killing other players without permission, etc.
PM me your character sheet for approval.
The angels are the soldiers employed by the government to track down and kill runners. If you play an Angel, you must generally abide by the laws, although runners are not protected by law. If you don't, your character must experience some repercussion. In other words, I don't want your character blowing up a building without any sort of consequence.
Angels are highly trained, and tend to be better at combat than runners, but somewhat less agile on the rooftops. However, this is a guideline--you can have an Angel who is very specialized at running at the expense of his combat prowess. Just remember that the Angels' jobs are to kill.
Angels are, on some level, above the law. As I mentioned above, there are laws that apply to them, but they are free to enter quarantined areas and are allowed to do literally anything to a runner without the fear of reprisal from the government. Angels are typically represented by cool colors--blues in particular.
Runners are couriers that carry packages from rooftop to rooftop to avoid government surveillance. Lately they've been forced to train in combat to fight the Angels. Some runners are pacifistic and will avoid killing at all costs, while some have no qualms at all about shoving someone off of a building or shooting them.
Runners are completely beneath the law. If a runner is caught by an Angel they are completely unprotected, and can be expected to be tortured and killed.
If you play a runner, be sure to remember that you are a civilian. It's unlikely that you'll be trained in heavy weaponry, and just as unlikely that you'll have access to most types of guns or vehicles without stealing them. There are exceptions of course, but I'll be unhappy if your runner, who's been an orphan since birth, comes crashing through the front of a mall driving the batmobile and blazing two fifty caliber rifles under either arm.
Actually, I have to admit that would be really cool.
Anyway, runners are typically represented by the color red, to the point that wearing red is often enough to make you a target for Angels.
A character sheet should look roughly like this:
Neo-name: Your username.
Name: Your characters name.
Age: Again, self-explanatory. Angels MUST be over 18, NO EXCEPTIONS. Runners should probably be as well, but the occasional 16 year old would be acceptable.
Allegiance: Runner, Angel or Neutral. Neutrals are just citizens. Runners won't trust you any more than they trust Angels, and if you're caught on a rooftop or engaging in runneresque activities then Angels will assume you're a runner.
Appearance: Self-explanatory again.
Bio: Optional, but preferred.
PM your character sheet to me (Manic Oppressive). Posting it in the thread before doing this is not acceptable.
In general, this is a very freeform RP. Make a plot when you need one, beyond what's presented above. Don't be afraid to create conspiracies, just don't be surprised when other players interact with them. However, you should generally refrain from destroying someone else's plot.
|quote quick quote posts in thread|
Jul 26, 12 at 12:04pm ^re: Mirror's Edge: Icarus Rising [M - PM - D/B]
Neo-name: Manic Oppressive
Name: Castus Slate
Appearance: Castus is physically fit, though certainly no body-builder. He's fairly thin with well-toned muscles from jumping rooftops. At around 5'11" (~1.5 meters) he's tall enough to bear a presence but not so tall as to impair his acrobatics. He has black hair and is usually clean-shaven, with blue-grey eyes. When running he wears contacts to improve his sub-par vision, although he is by no means blind without them. When he's not in a high-movement situation he usually wears glasses instead. While running, Castus wears black acrobatic pants with red stripes down the sides and a well-fitted red shirt with black stripes down its side, lining up with the red stripes of his pants. Otherwise he's usually seen in semi-formal civilian clothing.
Bio: I wish I could say I was a sob story. I wish I could say my parents were protesters who were killed when I was young, leaving me to train as a runner. I can't. My parents are dead, but it's entirely my fault.
When I was eighteen, I decided to join the police. I did it for a really petty reason too. I didn't care about protecting people. A runner had slipped and knocked a brick off of a roof that smacked me in the head a few days earlier, and I wanted to find him and get even. Stupidest reason to enlist I've ever heard. But I did, and I have to admit it was fairly fun work. I got to pretend I was some sort of a soldier, trooping around to guard buildings.
Then, about two years ago, my fourth year with the blue, I got put on a runner-ambush. We were trying to stop that girl, Faith, though I didn't know her at the time. We were all geared up to put her down hard at a mall. I was all ready to shoot her when I saw her coming at me, but before I knew what had hit me she'd ripped the shotgun out of my hand and knocked me to the ground. She looked at me for what seemed like a long time, though it was only a moment, pointing that shotgun at me, and I thought she was going to kill me. She should've killed me. But she didn't. She turned and blasted the next officer on the walkway (from that distance it was enough to stun him and knock him over, not enough to kill him through is armor), and then just threw the gun over the side and ran.
I felt like a *bleep*in' speed-bump. I hadn't even been worth killing. So when some guy claiming to be from "Project Icarus" came around, of course I joined up. I sorta wanted revenge. They taught me to run, which I took to really well. They taught me to kill. They also taught me the price for failure.
One of my partners in training there, a guy named Ben, he let a runner go on a rooftop. That's the ultimate crime among Angels, and he paid for it. They didn't kill him. They brought his family in, and gave a nice long talk about how these were the people he was keeping safe, and the runners were a threat to their security. Then they gunned down his wife and one of his kids in front of him. A seven-year old girl, they raked with a machine gun like she was a *bleep*ing TARGET. They took his other two kids to some sort of an orphanage, with a really good understanding of what would happen to them if Ben screwed up again.
Ben killed himself that night, and I never heard what happened to his other two kids. I hope they're alright.
The next day I went after a runner for the first time. This guy was quick, and he could fight too, but he made the mistake of thinking that meant he could take me on. He stopped in what he must've thought was a good ambush spot, but I knew where he was. I kicked his ass. Didn't even take thirty seconds before he was lying there, begging me not to kill him. But I was going to. I mean, how could I not? I knew what they'd do to my parents if I didn't. I didn't have a wife or kids like Ben, but I figured my parents would do fine as far as Icarus was concerned. So I got ready to break his neck...
And then one of his buddies grazed my neck with a 9mm round. It startled the shit out of me, and I dropped to the ground. This guy I had pinned was laughing his head off at me too. He said "Man, you didn't actually think I'd bother asking for mercy if I didn't know I had backup, didja? You 'Angels' are all alike." Then the two of them darted, and just left me there.
I got up and headed back to base... And you can guess what happened next. Another Angel, a particularly ruthless one named Nick Waters, had seen me on that rooftop. I don't know if he thought my failure was as bad as letting them go or if he actually thought I went down on purpose, but it doesn't matter now. They executed my parents in front of me. They said they'd pay a visit to my sister if I ever made a mistake like that again.
They screwed up. Somewhere in their records they screwed up, cause I don't have a sister. And that night, I was gone. I found my way to a guy named Elman. It took a while for him to trust me, but eventually he taught me the tricks of a runner, and helped me get a new identity. And that's my story.
I never did find out who dropped that damn brick on my head, either.
Neo-name: Manic Oppressive (I don't want to leave poor Nick from the intro unsupervised. If someone wants to take him over later I may let them, but for now I'll play two. My writing styles will be very different between the two, there shouldn't be confusion.)
Name: Nick Waters
Appearance: Nick Waters is a man who clearly takes pride in his appearance. He has neat, smooth blonde hair, toned muscles, plucked eyebrows and not a hint of other facial hair. Standing at a precise 6 feet tall (~1.8 meters), at precisely 160 pounds, (72.5 kg) he excels at standing perfectly where he wishes. As a lieutenant he spends much of his time in public or in administrative roles, at which times he wears a perfectly fitted black silk suit, a black silk shirt, and a white silk tie. The very essence of sophistication and professionalism, even when chasing a runner Nick wears pants that could be mistaken for black slacks and a tight white shirt that manages to seem elegant despite its lack of buttons. For a man of his caliber, being seen as anything but a professional would be most... undesirable.
Bio: Nick Waters is a butcher.
He'll tell you he's a professional doing his job. He'll tell you that his ends justify his means. He'll tell you a lot of things... But don't believe him. Nick Waters is a cold, psychotic murderer in an expensive suit. The Angels might be good or bad, depending on your view of the conflict, but few who know him would try to defend Waters's methods.
When Nick was 16, he killed for the first time. It wasn't gang violence, nor was it a war. It wasn't random... And it certainly wasn't justifiable. He observed a ten-year old boy stealing a candy bar from a grocery store, and saw his mother (exasperated from a long day) decide not to return it. When they arrived at their house, Nick quietly followed them in and slashed the mother's and the child's throats.
He later said that he did this because he felt that their crime needed to be punished. But he was lying. Nick Waters killed those two people because he wanted to know what it was like. He wanted to feel the blood on his hands, bask in the pleas of a hopeless soul.
Two people know exactly how many Waters has killed. One of them is Nick Waters. The other is the mysterious government recruiter who began to follow Nick the day he killed for the first time. This recruiter saw a weapon... And didn't know what he was dealing with. Once recruited into the Angels at the age of twenty, Nick shot up the ranks due to a very high record of runner-kills. He didn't always kill them immediately. Sometimes he'd bring them in to the station, and request permission to preform their "interrogations." These "interrogations" often lasted for days before he finally spilled enough blood, caused enough shock or broke enough bones to kill them.
And not all of them were runners... But in Nick's mind they were all the same.
But don't make the foolish mistake of believing that Nick Waters cannot function normally in society. He's suave, cool, and cunning--as long as you've not drawn his interest. To this day, he has never received so much as a reprimand for any of his actions: a testament to his discretion and ruthless efficiency.
Name: Project AN00: "Seraphim"
Age: 18 (Allegedly)
Appearance: Geared from head to toe, Seraphim is quite the sight. From the optically enhanced helmet, to the incredibly silent, yet robust, running flats, everything Seraphim wears screams utility...and danger. Seraphim's garb is a creamy white; which matches his personality as well as it does the city. Seraphim is never seen without his helmet and jumpsuit, so what he look like underneath it is anyone's guess, but even a casual observer can get enough from one look at him to take him seriously. Seraphim stands roughly around 5' 9" and the only other discernible feature about him is his body's muscle tone is absolutely perfect. While he's not bulky, his body is conditioned to the point where it, to appearances, is all muscle.
Bio: Long ago, the government still believed in external threats. Back then, they launched a program designed to create the perfect agents. They created spies, assassins, and even diplomats using anyone they could get their hands on. Even amongst that number, Seraphim was unique. He was given to the government as a newborn, and they wasted no time in training him.
Originally, he was trained to be the ultimate infiltrator and then killer. The problem they kept running into was that while they could create perfect killers, perfect spies, etcetera they always lacked one thing. Autonomy. Seraphim changed that. Not only was he trained to be a blunt instrument, he was trained to be the mind behind the weapon, as well. The end result was a child who was nothing but cold, calculated, and a cold-blooded murderer.
Then things changed. Rather then the other nations, the governments focus turned inward, towards the runners. At first, Seraphim's division was more or less uninvolved in the "war". Then, a runner bombed the institute that housed Seraphim and his fellows, wiping out nearly the entire staff. In retaliation, the government gave control of it's sole remaining asset from that program to the newly formed "Angels"; the newly dubbed Seraphim.
Unsurprisingly, Seraphim excelled at hunting down Runners. So much so that the Angels are actually hesitant to deploy him, fearing the negative attention his brutality draws towards them. Even so, when a runner is proving too elusive for normal means, Seraphim is dispatched, and his unholy thirst for runner blood is sated once more. To this day, Seraphim has no recorded captures, only kills, and that's not likely to change anytime soon.
Appearance: Standing at 6 feet tall and weighing 160 pounds, Felix is taller than your average runner. He has dark brown eyes and dark brown hair that he keeps cut short. Felix prefers to wear blue-jean pants, a dark green short-sleave shirt, and black running shoes. As with most runners he does wear red. His socks are red and he has red shoe strings that he has tied together and uses as a belt.
Bio: Felix lived a normal life for as long as he could remember. He followed every law and rule they came out with and even got a normal boring job. It was on this job that he got his first real view of a runner and an angel. As he watched a man whose clothing was red was chased across the rooftops by a man whose clothing was blue. Felix watched the two men until they disappeared into the distance. After that Felix began to practice running whenever he had free time. He started out in parks, running, jumping, and climbing until he was able to run on rooftops. Felix found running to be fun and exciting but nothing more than recreational until an angel finally caught him at it. This angel refused to belive Felix's claim that he wasn't a runner and threw Felix off the roof. Felix survived the fall having been on a two story building at the time but was greatly injured. After recovering in the hospital Felix decided to join the runners but he didn't find them. They found Felix, trained him to fight, to run better than he already could, and he has been working with them since then.
Neo-Name: Harvest Life
Name: Sylvia Marie Caraway
Appearance: Sylvia takes good care of herself physically. Long chestnut hair frames her face while dark hazel eyes poke out from beneath the mane of hair. She is rather tall, but just shy of the typical height for a model. Not that she would ever be interested in that sort of thing. She usually dresses in comfortable clothing, even going so far as to showing up for meetings in floral printed pajamas during one of her sad days.
Bio: Sylvia is, depending on who you talk to, forgettable, deranged, eccentric, or stark raving mad. She is mentally unstable and just the simplest thing could send her flying into a rage or collapsing in tears. She shifts from depressive episodes to moments of euphoria. She knows she probably has some kind of disorder or maybe she doesn't. It's rather hard to tell. The young woman spends most of her time away from others, preferring to tackle jobs by herself. Due to an issue that happened involving a rage, C4, and one entire city block, Sylvia is usually escorted by a low-ranking lackey for the "protection" of civilians.
She doesn't really mind the company, but they sometimes got in the way. She usually pushes them off the roof or stab them. Killing is sometimes entertaining but nothing was like the rush of flames lighting up the sky. In fact, Sylvia holds the record for blowing up the most runners with one block of explosives.
On the rare occasion that she takes a runner in, instead of killing them, she usually does one of two things. One, hand them over to someone who likes to cut them up. Or two, give them to Nick Waters. The man was an entirely different grade of psychopath.
Now, why would a government agency hold onto an insane pyromaniac? The answer is simple, she gets the job done.
Edit: Sep 27, 12 10:14pm
|quote quick quote posts in thread|
Sep 27, 12 at 10:28pm ^re: Mirror's Edge: Icarus Rising [M - PM - D/B]
Good god, what've I gotten myself into?
I was running, like I do most nights, running a package to some benevolent-rich-guy at the other end of the city. I didn't know what was in the package. I never ask what's in the packages. Anyway, I was about halfway to the drop point when I got ambushed, big-time. About a dozen cops on the roof in front of me. Normally this wouldn't have been a big deal, and I was getting ready to take them apart.
Then an angel showed up.
He came from my left as I got near the blockade. He came swinging off some flagpole on a building above me, and gave me a real hard kick to the side. As I went down, I managed to grab his ankle and trip him up. I rolled away from him and got a running start into a jump over the first line of cops. I landed on top of one behind the front line and ripped the assault rifle out of his hands, raking the ones I'd just jumped over until I ran out of ammo. Only one of them actually went down, but I'd obviously stunned the others, cause that bought me a minute to keep running.
But that angel was still after me. He was fast, but not quite as fast as me. I woulda been home free.
And then the little prick shot me in the ass.
I'm not talkin' metaphorically here. The bastard actually caught me in the gluteus maximus. Hurt like hell, and I flubbed a jump. I crashed through a window on the top floor of the building I'd planned to be on the roof of, and an alarm started going off. I said something I won't repeat under my breath and dove for the nearest elevator. I knew there'd be about a million cops waiting for me if I went all the way down, so I hit the third floor and waited. This building had close to fifty floors, so it took a while, but I made it down. I took cover under a desk in a cubicle, clutching my pistol real close, til someone shut off the alarm. After I stopped seeing flashing police lights outside, I took off.
I shot out a window on that third floor, which set the alarm blaring again, but it didn't matter because I'd already grabbed a tapestry hanging down from a couple floors up and used it to slide down low enough for a skill roll onto the sidewalk below. I lit across the street into an alley and dove into a dumpster. Luckily the dumpster had just been emptied, so I didn't have to deal with the stench.
And I sat there, and waited.
OOC: Feel free to post!
|quote quick quote posts in thread|
|[All dates in (PST) time]||Threads List « Next Newest Next Oldest »|
|REPLY TO THIS THREAD QUICK REPLY START NEW THREAD|
Powered by neoforums v2.3.6b (Bolieve)
Copyright Neo Era Media, Inc. 1999-2015