Just then, one might have noticed a cloud of dust in the distance. Astran craned his neck for a better look. Then it occurred to him.
Horsemen.
He pulled his horse to a dead stop and shouted, "Run! It's the army! Let's hustle it, people!" He drew back and and rode in the opposite direction to meet the enemy. Max shortly followed him. Solomon continued onward, his face locked ahead in stern focus.
"We will make for the town of Middleburg."
As Jolt watched the bloodbath through his bars, he missed the days when he had his sword in hand. The assassain reminisced on his career, and silently wished for just a chance at freedom, no revenge this time, nothing like the other times he tried.... If he had just been a bit less nosey about his past... he would've never gotten into this mess...
As he brushed a few more specks of oxidation from his plated shade armor and put on his woven pathfinder cap once again, Jolt realized that his death would come instead. The next day in fact. His apparent successor would kill him in an arena, gladiator-style. His former benefactor wanted to enjoy getting rid of him. Many a challenger had fought and failed in that goal. Finally, it looked like a worthy challenger had been found. Even with his preferred weaponry, which they just might just give him, this Julius had shown a skill he might not be able to avoid long enough to emerge victorious. Jolt made up his mind to give both his challenger and enemy the least possible enjoyment, however it went.
Kicking the Reigns, Fos kept up, looking back long enough to see only the cloud his group was making. At this rate he was going to need something to cover his exposed face from the dust and muck being kicked up from the ground.
Reaching down he ripped a piece of clothing off his shorts to cover his face, more or less letting the horse guide him now, since he didn't have any eye protection.
This is one of the reasons I hate horse riding. The chasing, specially when your in the middle of a group. Tends to get messy.
Holding on tightly with his other hand, Fos leaned into the neck of the animal to give it better wind resistance and make it easier for the creature to carry him and run at the same time.
"HYAH!" Teach shouted as he jammed his heels into the horse's side, a hand held tight on the reins.
Flynn took one look back and decided that his escape hadn't been so clean after all. "Oh, well that's just PEACHY!" he shrieked. He urged his horse faster and faster, hoping to at least keep up with the others.
As Astran drew nearer and nearer to the enemy, he could make out their insignias. They were the Elite Guard, the best of the best, the finest soldiers in all the Spiral Order. How they got here so fast was beyond comprehension, but now that they were here, they would have to be dealt with. Astran ripped out Arcana and popped off a few potshots at the oncoming horde. The horsemen ducked and swerved around them. Astran drew his katana, and the lone knight collided with the horde.
He bucked and swerved around their frenzied attacks. Dust clouded his vision. Thrice he missed a deadly strike by a hair's breadth. Elemental bolts poured from Arcana's gaping mouth. Steel blades often clashed between unseen combatants shrouded in dust.
But Astran wasn't done yet. He tore ahead of the horde, still ducking under their gunfire, and met up with Max.
"You ready?" Astran shouted.
"Ready!" Max shouted back.
Max withdrew a strip of paper inscribed with runes from one of his pockets, wrapped it around his spear, and hurled it back at the horde. Astran took aim and shot it. Instantly wall of fire erupted in front of the riders. Their horses ground to a stop and threw some of their riders to the ground. Once the riders regained their composure, a few plunged through the flames undeterred.
Max's eyes widened. "Is there no stopping these people?"
Astran shook his head slowly, his eyes equally wide. "It seems not!"
"There's one more trick up my sleeve."
"Yeah?"
"Vesuvius."
"Doesn't the boy have it?"
"Exactly."
It took Astran a moment to realize his plan. They rode hard back toward the party, and Max blew his horn. Solomon looked back and spotted Max signing for his sword. "Sol!" Solomon called back to the boy. "Give Max back his sword."
Julius stepped into the arena all decked out in his dusty Ironmight Plate armor. His sword Revenge, a half-rusted Khorovod, stayed in his right hand, daring the assassin to challenge it. He pounded onto the arena and raised his arms, yielding deafening roars from the eager crowd. And Julius roared back at them with all the ferocity of a lion.
Then the lion turned to find his prey.
His fiery eyes met Jolt's.
Sol nodded, but through the sun and the dust, he was blind. He threw the sword blindly in Max's direction, and leaning back against the horse. Motion sickness was hell.
Hark, steady. If they approach, you will fight. The Dark, the Light, both will beg for you.
Sol steadied, looked straight ahead, and identified the enemy in the distance. He grabbed the Echo Stone, and memories surfaced.
You are not just fire. You are the carrier of Vog. Spread the influence.
"Run! It's the army! Let's hustle it, people!" Astran yelled, as he swerved his horse sharply and sped up.
"Oh boy, this'll be fun, won't it?" Sona said in replied, as dirt from the horse in front of her sprayed in front of her face. She held her reins sharply to the right as she kicked the sides of the horse a few times, speeding it up. Some of the knights fell back for a bit, and came back a little later to ask Sol for their sword back. "Watch out, if they followed any logic they'd have more patrols around us. Don't get surrounded.
Jolt stared back, silently but with a considerable strength and menace. He sidestepped as a matte black katana (blacked out silent nightblade), his favorite blade, embedded itself in the floor beneath him, thrown from the arena balcony. As he gazed up, he expected to see the face of his benefactor sneering at him, but found it strangely absent… More gear fell at his feet: a rough and weathered hide shield (BTS) and a small buckler full of dents (SSB) and a well-used over-under dual-barreled Magnum pistol (Iron Slug). With familiar gear in hand, Jolt’s confidence grew. Slinging the hide shield onto his back and the buckler onto his arm, he took up a slight battle stance and sized up his opponent, facial features obscured by his facemask.
Julius would be a challenge, as his armor would reduce much of the damage dealt to him, and his sword range was long, Jolt noted. Both the combatants wore experimental recon cloaks that hid footprints and did not create recon marks as well as being more compact, enough that a protective shield could be used in addition. Relying on speed and precision with both blade and cloak would be his only hope. This reminded him of fighting hordes of Ghostmane Stalkers while serving as a mole and assassin in the Scarlet Scouts...before his current predicament. Why was his past so sensitive?! He had been the best at his role, why did he now either rot in solitary or fight for amusement?!
Jolt was brought back to the present by the jeering charge of Julius. Barely able to dodge, Jolt cloaked himself and aimed a slash at Julius' exposed neck as he rushed past.
(OOC where did Elt come from? Where is his app???)
Boan quickly realized that there was no way that they can out run the guards without some sort of raw power, so instead of speeding up, Boan slowed down his steed and dropped to the tail of the group. Then suddenly, bullets flied across his head and reacting to this, Boan turned back only to see Judas, with some bandages around his waist (wound inflicted by Sona) and a sawed off rifle in his left arm.
"I am keeping the promise old friend!" Judas yelled, "A bullet straight to your brain, just like we agreed!"
"Change of plan!" Boan stopped his horse dead on into the guard's formation before speeding up again to run into parallel with Judas, the two hacked each other back and forth with sword and the rifle. Boan takes one quick jab at the horse's legs and it stumbled, taking out a few other horses with it, without their horses, the riders were forced to witness as Boan rode back to the main group.
Judas slammed his sawed off rifle to the ground and personally executed his personal riding horse in order to relieve him of the frustration, "Put this horse to the butchery!" Judas ordered, "She will make for fine dog chows!"
Edit: (OOC: OOpse, didn't want Judas to die just yet.)
((Condemned doesn't really require apps, especially when the main prison sequence is complete. I've discussed it with Elt; his character and opening sequence were planned out beforehand over Skype.))
Julius stood his ground and allowed the strike to connect. Jolt's swing was off by a centimeter or two, enough to scrape off the neck plate. He just laughed it off like a bad joke and raised Revenge. The giant sword glimmered in the unforgiving sun before it crashed down to the ground, missing Jolt by mere inches. The earth shuddered with the impact.
Julius ripped the sword out of the ground and roared, assaulting the assassin with his hot, smelly breath. Then suddenly, he vanished.
Now the real fight began.
After she had learned that security posed little threat to her, Tifa had continued scourging the database for information, and taking anything that seemed useful. Time and movement was a blur to her shell-form. In fact, the only thing that made her distinguished from a lifeless piece of scrap-metal was her occasional murmuring about processes being run, and proclamations of successful data-level breaching.
It was all quite un-noteworthy, despite the situation around her.
She had found traces of her mission's objective, workings in secret found knee-deep in raw data that would have taken regular knights years to uncover, but they were still just traces. It was noteworthy, however, that the creator(s) of the traces she had found were not left by the Doctor, but rather several other miscellaneous scientists. This lead her to create the hypothesis that either
She would have to ask the Doctor himself the next chance she got.
She was only interrupted by her peering into the Order's files once she was brought outside. After Tifa was mounted onto a horse -- or more accurately, slung onto one of them sideways, with her arms leaning over one side, and her legs (one full, and one only hanging on by a couple of wires) on the other -- she had continued to delve into the data around her.
There was only one problem.
It's hard to look through data when your access point becomes further and further away.
After a couple minutes of riding (after the riders had started being chased), she was abruptly disconnected and left dazed for a moment. Within her daze, she automatically looked up on the situation at hand and started an analysis. Specifically, she analyzed the situation regarding the blade referred to as "Vesuvius" by Max, which was thrown by a knight Tifa vaguely recalled as one of the prisoners in the escape (she had been more preoccupied with Data retrieval to complete her mission, after all).
"Reroute bearings to 342º from your current position, and Accellerate by 3.4m/s² for 2 seconds for proper contact to be made." was the referral she gave to Max in a metallic, and only slightly static-esque voice.
She then took in more of her surroundings, and looked up at the odd-robed man who replaced her spot on Max's shoulder. After analyzing his face and muttering something about "face-matches", she returned to her regular mode and asked what any confused AI sprung from prison would ask:
"When did we [Bzzt] pick up this man? Don't we have enough prisoners?"
Just like the Stalkers, Jolt thought. I wonder if there's some connection...
Jolt jumped out of reach as the giant sword crashed down near him again and vanished. Jolt activated his own recon cloak. With both of them now invisible, Jolt relied on his ears to hear the plate armor rattle when the gladiator moved. His light armor made little sound, but he knew Julius could hear him some. Jolt switched the hide shield to his arm, needing it to pierce heavy armor. Julius heard this sound and clattered closer as Jolt twisted around, flipped out his Magnum and fired a single round at the gladiator's helm.
Shaking his head Fos looked back at the little scurmish going on behind them.
This could be good...I need something to cover up with, and a warm meal wouldn't hurt.
Pulling out of the group Fos came to a halt watching the fight, removing the cloth from over his face the Alchemist watched as he stroked the side of the horse. It didn't matter to him who the victor was, or the loser was, he was going to collect either way. Besides, if it came to a fight he could hold his own for a bit, he was just going to need to consume if he ever did get into a fight.
Well from the looks of it, most of the riders are currently down or in the middle of picking themselves up. It might be a smart idea for me to just watch for right now. Though I have to guess, if I was the captain of that group I would have ordered the retreat. It still confuses me as to why they haven't sent an alchemist to chase us even though I am with this group...something just doesn't feel right..
Holding the reigns with his right hand, and playing with his crystallized ring in the other Fos contemplated if it was a good idea to try and collect now, or just keep going. Either way he was going to watch this little fight till the end at least.
Well.
I just have to say, I feel like a complete nincompoop.
In terms of both RPing and real life; How I act. I mean really, I'm just the guy in the corner of the room you can only depend on when shit's gone down- Otherwise I'm just a waste of space, as I hardly react to much of anything.
"What's Up?"
"Nothing Much"
Awkward silence ensues.
That's what it's like to ask about my life.
There's just simply nothing there.
And oh god I've gone back into the awkward spacings again fuck
uhm... So anyway, what I'm trying to say is that no matter how much I try, It always ends in me seeming inactive.
What I'm really doing is waiting on others, Because it feels like whenever I try to do something it sounds like I'm stating the obvious.
Today might not be the best day to really bring this up, But... well, I'd rather say this now than never.
Liminori, you're no waste of space. I know that feeling where I feel completely irrelevant. Heck, that was pretty much every single character I made when I started RPing here. I wouldn't base your writing/behavior on this RP, since this does seem to be going a bit slow in my opinion. In all honesty, you are one of the people I look up to when it comes to writing.
When we RP together, we form bonds. I don't think you quite realize how powerful were the bonds we formed way back in Return to Cradle. No matter how long you've sat in the sidelines, I still fistpump inside when you join up. Same with Kaijuhunter and Archemiday; no matter how little their participation in future games, I'm still honored to have them play alongside me just like old times.
Truly, our first RP was our finest, not because of its inherent quality, but because of the bonds we created when we came together to write.
Don't worry about being the guy in the corner. You, Arch, Vin, and the others are as much valued friends now as you always were.
My bad, I accidentally deleted Yigge, so I'll have to use Xeromon until I can make him again for the sake of having a constant forum username. I'd also like some feedback on using a character in these environments. Maybe for this RP, but I think not.
A tall green hill littered with ruins that had been rotting there since the death of their architects. The hill reached past the atmosphere, and gazed at stars day-in and day-out. A cool breeze always accompanied the hill, as grass blew away and brought the peace of nature to a dead place. A city, deserted by those that used to live there. Maybe it was the home of Strangers from long ago, maybe some other obscure race the Knights had not yet found. There was only one of their kind left who had the testament and manifesto of their people.
A bright room filled with vessels. the lights flooded every corner, no room for any shadow to be cast. The vessels were sectioned upon each other and filled the seemingly endless space. Countless bodies were found, each to their own vessel, connected by an umbilical cord that ran beneath the glass grid connecting to all the bodies. They all were connected by the same cord. The bodies were all identical to each other, faded gray skin and androgynous bodies. The environment was sterile, the bodies floating in clear fluid. A lonely pair of footsteps walks up and down the grid, taking check-ups on all the bodies, walking as a blurred haze.
I didn't realize until I read this over that it left out my heartfelt message to Liminori! My bad!
I've actually been on the forums awhile, and you actually write decently Liminori, when you're not off. I trust in you to be completely honest with yourself, but also appreciate who you are, whether it be any bad or any good. Acceptance is key, no matter the kind of person you may feel you are. Waste of space or not, that space will always be filled, you will always have a body, and even when death come upon you that body will remain. You might as well make it memorable or what have you. And no matter the emotions you may have, know that they are precious, every single one. I do not speak of anything less than every aspect of life is wondrous, as it will always have consequence for better or for worse. Life begets omni-fold life into the present and future, setting the stage of generations when done as an art. Do not forget, and always be loved.
Watching from atop his horse Fos held his upturned hand out in the direction of the battle. It was now or never that he collected what belonged to him, and with as much of the liquid that had fallen from the down soldiers Fos had a feeling he was going to have a rather nice meal for now.
A small arch of energy ran across his hand as across the bloody bodies of the dead, living and ground, anywhere there was blood on the ground energy seemed to arch across it before rising it harmlessly off the ground. As soon as the crimson liquid was freed of it's confines, mostly the blood that was free from the body since he wasn't close enough to take the substance from the body, rushed to him.
"I honestly thank you all for the meal you bless me with."
Above his hand a dark crimson orb, looking more like a ball of liquid then a solid structure, came into life where it all collected. It was almost too easy for him to do considering that all the work was done for him anyway. He wasn't skilled in fighting, but then again who needed to fight when you could make your enemy kill there friends and give you food in return.
Truely the monster made his presence known once he consumed the liquid, his eyes seemed to gain a more defined glint of crimson, almost visible in this light but not one-hundred percent. As for the rest of the liquid, it went into the red ring, making it bigger the more of it he put in, but there wasn't much left after his little snack.
What might have stuck out the most was not the eyes, but rather his physical apperance. It was as if he went from the body of a forty year old man to that of one in his mid-thirties. Muscle mass was returning to him, the lines in his face receded and the more white of his skin returned to a light tan hue. Perhaps him having blood was making him stronger, or he was using Bio-alchemy with out knowing it. Either way at this point his mind was a little more out of the fog.
"Alright, I suppose I can wait to see what else they drop for me. After all, right now it's a free meal either way."
Holding his hand out Fos kept pulling in more of the live giving liquid, each drop he pulled to him, to satisfy his never ending hunger.
"Well this was a perfect timing, I needed a drink."
In terms of both RPing and real life; How I act. I mean really, I'm just the guy in the corner of the room you can only depend on when shit's gone down- Otherwise I'm just a waste of space, as I hardly react to much of anything.
((And you think you are the only one? Do you know how painful it is for me to participate in this RP when half of the time I have no idea what darkwatck and Xeromon are writing or people's inability to write a story about a normal person with simple virtues, I have seen dark being a firefly, a cyborg dedicated to hacking and alchemists while the only person I used in any RP that came close to OP is Mezizas the obsidian queen, and she isn't even the main character. The rest of my RP crews are simply humans who perform within the human limits. Except maybe Saboteur after been flashed by Gwen as she unleashed her full power right in front of him, giving some of her telepathy power to the bomber, seriously, didn't Gwen read God 101? You shouldn't reveal your power in front of your mortal followers.
And also I can't stand it when Thin make his RP story line so convoluted and surprisingly boring despite having invested efforts into the plot, in fact, there are too many plots. I am already having problem keeping track of Fos and Sol's story and with Elt coming into the mix, it will be a cluster **** from this point on. I can be sure at this point that this is the very reason why RPs are dying off before the story is complete, they are simply too long, remember in RTC2? I rage quit for a while and coming back after four pages of stories, YOU GUYS ONLY DEFEATED SNARBY?! AND THERE ARE HOW MANY MORE TO GO?!!
--END OF MY RANT-- ))
Between cycling through the Internet, the Forums, and occasionally looking at some naughty edit this out please you fecking twit limi
I also feel like the forums aren't really active-
I would have said this yesterday except it's easter and I'm bloody impatient cause I have nothing better to do with my time
so for the time being I'm gonna go work on the hunter;sguideandhopefully maybe see some results tommorow. Otherwise, I have two options.
Go to sleep, and find out there's more stuff and that I have school in an hour because I'll have slept through monday
OR go sit in a corner and draw and draw and draw
If I'm really REALLY DESPERATE, then I can spend a bunch of time making myself a cloak similar to the Hunter's Cloak in bloodborne because that shit's fancy as fuck
However- Looking at your post only made me extremely angry.
I was going to post something extremely pretentious and stupid, But where would that get me? Nowhere.
Now, Since I'm not really sure what to say to make sure I don't come off as rude- I'm going to attempt to talk about the length of RP's.
Roleplay Storiess are really difficult.
Anyone who has tried to do one knows this, Because they usually crumble and fall apart. Since one post of detail usually takes a long time, People get tired of detailing a whole story due to many encounters, backlog, lack of story guide, and lack of teamwork.
This is why Thinslayer's (and several others) stories are like, (No offense) a closet of clothing tossed in haphazardly.
People give up partway through, lose interest, or simply can't come up with anything to say.
Then, It collapses.
---
I've had a thought for a while.
It's one simple thing.
Every week, Someone posts a part of the story, Which is based on the previous story.
Or another way to say it; Everyone plays hot potato with the story lead.
Person A writes Story Arc.
Person B writes Second Story Arc off of the first.
Perso ETC.
...this forum game does have its boring points...
...but it gets better. Until you reach Northaven, the player characters aren't strong enough to do much. Most of your enemies are beyond your capacity to fight, let alone beat. The ten elite corps riders are just par for the course, and there are even stronger foes in play. It'll get really exciting once the rescue is finished.
And we're almost done with that.
I can't help the convolution, though. That's intentional, and it only gets worse from here. We've barely scratched the surface of all that's happening in the game world. I estimate we have yet to uncover about...the remaining 2/3 of the convolutions.
Liminori is pretty much dead-on. The foremost cause of RP death is writer's block. When they lose sight of the big picture, when they can't see the end, middle, or even the beginning, they are unable to write. Very few forum games are like RtC, which have no predefined middle or end and still manage to find their happy ending.
But Condemned is a bit different.
Like I said at the beginning, I know what I'm doing. And that's huge. I actually have a beginning, middle, and end all plotted out. It may be complicated, but it's there. More importantly, Condemned deals with concepts that are rarely explored in Spiral Knights forum games. When was the last time you played a game where the righteousness of your cause was cast into doubt? We're always fighting BIG BAD GRIMDARK in other games, where the lines between good and evil are clear and distinct.
Not so with Condemned. Here, the 'good guys' are whoever you're loyal to, and the 'bad guys' are other characters like your own. Remember that young blond boy whom Sol burnt to ash in the dungeon? He was an NPC whom I promoted to minor character. Had he lived, he might have become a true character. I'd imagined him tagging along, or perhaps meeting them again when he got stronger. When Sol killed him, he killed a potential character, now forever lost. I wanted Yigge to feel the weight of that, because that's truly what happens in war - you kill other human beings, each with their own stories to tell, now cut short by your actions.
Death, betrayal, forgiveness, love, loss, good, and evil are explored in this convoluted game. If you've got the patience to stick it out, you'll come out rewarded.
Provided we have the guts to finish this thing.
You guys still with me?
Jolt's bullet flew straight and true. It ploughed into the helmet and buried itself just a millimeter away from the target's skull. Julius staggered back, dazed. Now was Jolt's chance!
From the sidelines, a young woman watched the battle from her perch above the rafters. A white mask decorated with red streaks on either side covered her entire face, while her shimmering black hair floated easily in the breeze over her right shoulder. Two similarly-masked individuals, a man and a woman, sat perched on either side of her.
"Shall we help him?" asked one.
"He looks like he's doing fine on his own," the other replied.
"Not yet," commanded the middle black-haired woman. "He's not actually doing very well. Julius is going to kick his rear end in a minute. And when he does, we're going to step in. Got it?"
"Got it," the other two replied together.
------------------------------
Max caught Vesuvius out of the air and spun to face the oncoming riders. With a loud cry, he drove it into the ground. Cracks filled with molten earth streaked toward the riders. Most of the mounted knights turned their horses at the sight, but one simply leaped over the streaks and raced closer and closer to Max and Astran.
Guess I'll have to handle this the hard way, Max thought to himself as the rider bore down on him. He ducked under the rider's swing and hooked him off his horse with Vesuvius' tip. The rider tumbled to the ground and rose to his feet just in time to block Vesuvius' mighty blow. Max handled the massive blade like it was a rapier; the rider poured all his strength into just keeping himself afoot. Each blocked strike took him nearer to the rivers of magma Max generated just a few moments prior.
Max halted before the rider stepped into the molten earth.
"Go."
And the rider went.
The two knights watched the rider return to his comrades. "Why'd you let him go?" Astran inquired. "Now that bastard is gonna tell everyone where we are." Max shrugged and returned to his horse. "I didn't want to corner him. Besides, he may owe me the favor someday," he retorted as he rode off back toward the party.
Astran shook off his blank stare and followed. Though they'd fought together for years, he never did fully understand why Max did such things. The Warrior's Code was one thing, but stark foolishness was another. He'd have to accost him when they got back to Northaven. He paused, however, when he realized some bodies were missing. Don't tell me the alchemist is doing that again?
Solomon slowed the party's pace to let the others catch up. "How'd it go?"
"Surprisingly well."
"Terribly."
Solomon chuckled. "Like day and night you two are. Bad news first."
"They got away. And that frikkin' alchemsit ate the dead again." Astran shot Fos a glare.
Which startled into surprise when he got slapped on the back. "Don't sweat the small stuff, man. They're dead, after all; they're not gonna care anymore," Max said. He turned to Fos and added, "But seriously, if you're gonna do it, at least do it where nobody's gonna see it. It ain't right to desecrate the body of a respected warrior."
You guys still with me?
(Hey, it is your RP, keep feeding us the bread crumbs and we will follow, and once when the bread crumbs run out. Boan and Judas will duke it out and finish his personal story line, so you can essentially think of Judas and every additional characters I ever made in your RP an ejection seat in the scenario if you give up and no closure for my characters, I got it planned out as well. And in any case if the story goes sour, I will eject my character to preserve their integrity.)
Back to the main story:
Boan could not believe what just happened, judging by the fact that the enemies are will disciplined, Boan couldn't put much stocks on them overlooking this prison break. "That was some brilliant sword swinging back there Max," Boan congratulated Max as he catches up with the group, "But maybe next time you can drag your opponent into the lava instead of letting him go, you already have Solomon and Astran for friends, to a man, shouldn't that be enough?"
((Either I feed you breadcrumbs of a complete story or you make your own story from scratch and hope it doesn't die like every other RP I've ever made because nobody HAS a freaking story to tell! Pick one and quit complaining so the rest of us can enjoy the game.))
Either I feed you breadcrumbs of a complete story or you make your own story from scratch and hope it doesn't die like every other RP I've ever made because nobody HAS a freaking story to tell!
((What is with the sudden outburst? You are the one who wanted to turn this RP into a proper story in your vision, so why are you getting upset when I am giving you leeway to the story progression and give you control of my character's fate (you already blew up Saboteur so what more do you want?) If you want me to make a story line, then give me sometime, I am studying ATM. ))
((I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost it over the 'breadcrumb' comment. It's just that I've fought So. Stupidly. Hard. To get players to make more creative stories in their RPs. I had a solid year (or what felt like a year) of writer's block over that insurmountable problem. I watched countless awesome concepts get wasted in the grasp of dying RPs, concepts I can't easily use again now that they've seen the light. Like Liminori said, being a forum RP host is an insanely difficult job, and that 'breadcrumb' comment just came off as really insensitive. Players want their stories spoon-fed to them here in the Treasure Vault; it's the only thing they seem to know. In hindsight, I think Condemned was designed in response to that. This game punishes you for letting yourself get led around by breadcrumbs; you get railroaded into a tragic ending that could have been avoided if you'd thought for yourself. It's one of my finest stories to date, IMO, and if I can pull this off, I might be able to tweak the mindset of the playerbase enough to make more creative games possible.))
Tifa raised her head from her if-she-was-human-it'd-be-very-uncomfortable position, and raised her hand as well, letting one finger raise to punctuate the point she was about to make... After the mechanical screeching of her limbs moving in ways they hadn't moved in years.
"So long as we vacate the [Bzz-Bzzip] premises immediately, the survival of our pursuers will be of n-nononono-no matter. Well. So long as we move [Bzzzzt] now."
Tifa then turned to the robed Alchemist laying in the same position as her on the horse.
"Although... It is possible that "breadcrumbs" left behind coul--d- [Pshhhhhhhzt]"
On the final line, Tifa's LED facial-screen went completely blank. In the instant afterwards, vents opened on her shoulders, and a spark flew from her raised hand... Which slowly dropped. Her head followed soon after, and a red Battery gave off a dull red glow over her cracked face.
While the power drainage while she was sitting in her cell doing nothing but head-tapping was quite minimal, her constant hacking combined with her aged power supply was more than enough for Tifa to power down prematurely. Thankfully, the vents which activated shortly before her power-down allowed her to slowly regain energy via Mist.
Still, even without any energy, she would have returned to her if-she-was-human-it'd-be-very-uncomfortable position next to the mysterious cloaked Alchemist.
~~~
[[While I'm sure this post may come off as bad timing due to the whole "breadcrumb" conversation going on... I'm just putting Tifa into this state because she won't be able to do much else with the current situation. She's on the verge of breaking, and too far away to do any data-retrieval or possible digital-espionage.
As for the conversation itself, there is no helping RP'rs losing interest and backing out. I've brainstormed possible ways of making initiative within people... But they all require a tremendous amount of time and/or crowns... People will grow bored and leave. Or crush under pressure.
Like I did.
I never got to apologize properly for the situation with Strom ending as it did, @Thin, so I'll apologize now while I have the chance.
While I did have a bad case of writer's block, the main reason I left the situation untouched was because I felt that I was carrying something too precious, too delicate for someone like me to hold.
That was my first RP.
Many people had confessed to that being their first RP as well... But I couldn't say that 'till now. What would the others think? Would they be discouraged? Would they leave? I guess it didn't make a difference, seeing as I ended it.
With the RP's discussion thread and actual thread resurfacing only days ago, I felt my guilt resurface. I know this isn't the time nor the place to apologize, but Guilt is eating me alive. It could have ended better. I wish it ended better.
I won't abandon this RP. My incentive is the first RP I've ever participated in. May this RP live to its end; I'll be reading and writing 'till it does.]]
Flynn caught up with Max.
"You know, that was very honorable of you. I might not have done the same, but. . . Well, I think you've done the right thing."
He then sighed, and looked up into the sky. "You know, I wouldn't mind working with you. Not one bit."
Sona stayed back where she had been in the group, and took a glance at Max. While she respected him for being honorable and sparing the knight, she didn't say anything so she wouldn't encourage further behavior. Should he spare more knights in this fashion, it could make a bad situation for them. Knowledge is power to a tactician, so the more knights he spared the more the enemy would know.
She sighed and rested her head on the neck of the horse as she closed her eyes. She had been deprived of sleep after being thrown in prison, due to being woken up constantly for interrogations and the like. She put her head up again and put her eyes on the path in front of herself and asked, "How much longer before we get to where we're going?"
With Teach (whoops! XD)galloping so far ahead the road, what might he see differently from the others, even if only just for a moment?
~~~
Usually I just choose people I know will stick around years after I shut down an RP, so when I do rev it up again, we can pick up straight where we left off.
Or I allow free-form to ensue / co-GM. Writer's block isn't an issue for me anymore as I'm learning new stuff each day in educational facilities and other places, but that's what I usually do. You gotta give a little to keep a little.
But...on the other hand, acting like a depressed sweggy teenager and whining about you being guilty for a bunch of really uncalled, not-done-yet stuff really puts a damper on the pacing. That's just selfish to drag people down, so please...
The party rode in silence for the next hour. They traversed through a narrow mountain pass, and when they rounded the bend, a vast city whose borders extended far beyond vision edged into view. At the far end stood a vast stronghold, as foreboding as it was mighty, built from the ground up with great blocks of stone bigger than most houses. Many tiny windows dotted its walls, presumably for defensive gunslingers. In the very middle of the stronghold was a high tower with a lone balcony at its peak, and atop it was a distant, unidentifiable figure.
Solomon turned back to the party and swept his arm over the horizon. "Welcome to Northaven, folks."
They trotted into the city through the main gates. No one stopped them to check them, but they couldn't shake the feeling that many unfriendly eyes were watching them. The three knights, however, seemed undisturbed.
The city was surprisingly advanced. Elements of gremlin and Spiral technology were superbly blended together to form motor horses (motorcycles), servant droids, and other wondrous oddities. The military side of things was equally impressive; huge biped battlemechs were doing drills in a less-occupied portion of the city.
Since the knights stopped off beside a retailer to find the prisoners some decent clothes, you might as well take a look around.
Taking his first step Fos froze, something about this land felt off. THe first impression of the land was of life and prosperity, but the ground, he felt nothing. It was as if the very land its self was disconnected from where he was, he knew this feeling before, it was something he had felt long ago in the clockworks, when his brother was still at his side.
Why, why do I feel like this. My blood is rushing, heart is throbbing like the times we fought brother...Everything feels the same, but it's not. I know what that feeling was, it was fear, true fear. Only you ever brought me such a feeling.
Getting the rest of the way down off the horse Fos looked around, having completely forgotten about the others looking in the direction of the city's keep.
From there, this feeling it's coming from there. But it's not fear, I KNOW FEAR...but this is not it...No this is something more, excitement and nerves...Yet I can't feel the land like I can when I was in the prison.
Reaching down Fos placed his right hand, the one with the broken Moon on the back side of his palm, on the ground. Moving it back and forth all he could feel was the new land, yet to him it felt dead, and ancient, as if some one had built this city for everyone but no one at the same time.
Nerves, the land is scared. But not of us, but rather what is to come. And yet, this excites me. I haven't felt so alive since we fought Brother...then.
His thoughts where cut when he realized the fool he must have looked, for a moment there he almost looked...human. Standing back up and brushing himself off Fos made his away around, not too far away from where they where. More like with in eye-shot, but far enough he could be alone with his thoughts, alone with himself.
Boan looked up as he strolled into the city, a tall tower looms with a figure standing on its lone balcony.
"So that is the brat the lunatic was warning me about..." Boan smirked before giving a casual wave at the figure, he didn't expect a respond though, "Quite an impressive town you got here, young lady, maybe next time build it in a more obvious place so everyone can enjoy it? You guys clearly have what it takes to fight the whole cradle. Why holding yourselves back?"
Boan glanced around and saw solid walls that are built to keep the outsiders at bay, for a moment the guard captain was relieved to know that there was some distance between him and Judas. But then he quickly realized what the kind of person Judas was, the ideals Boan abandoned, Judas held them dearly.
Walking around the vicinity of the clothing retail store, Boan approached a servant droid, "sup," Boan greeted the automaton, "Can you tell me anything about northaven? Or is it Notheaven? Sorry if I got the pronunciation wrong."
I am formally withdrawing Sol from the RP. This is my own jurisdiction, will not be swayed, and is at the fault of no one. I did not know name dropping or hostility would meet Sol nor myself, but now that I know such a character isn't either welcome nor outright objected to, I will redact them myself, as the goal was to make a character that is both liked and has definition.
Sorry to be a bother.
Also my favorite character was the robot.
If either this RP or another picks up some speed, I will join with a new character. These are not terms to some sort of ultimatum or any conditions for any RP to actually meet, I just thought it'd be nice to roleplay again.
The removal is definitely final for this character.
Wut!? I liked your character! I appreciated his more heroic outlook. I don't know where you're getting the impression that he was mediocre. The withdrawal is yours to decide, but just so you know, I *did* have plans for him that will be disrupted by your departure.
I wasn't kidding when I told you I'd make everyone's characters special.
Sona ignored most of her surroundings, and focused on the military aspects of the city. What caught her eye was the battlemechs, the motorized bikes, and the sheer scale of the wall. Sure, the wall would have been easy to see, making what she assumed to be a rebellion easy to find, but due to its size it would take some large amount of effort to topple the thing over. Should the person leading this decide they want to take over a place, they could have easily done so.
Sona took herself out of the moment at the great military feats and looked around at the more civilian aspects. Her eyes turned to a tranquil blue as she started to become calm again, not bothered by being chased, fighting her way through things, or the stress of leading an army. As much as she didn't like to admit it, she did enjoy the calmer side of her bipolar attitude. She always did worry her soldiers would become lax if she showed herself as a laid back person.
She dismounted her horse and stretched out all the pain that came with riding a horse for extended periods of time as she walked a small circle around the clothing shop, not wanting to get too far away from her rescuers. The few things that caught her eyes on her stroll were a small café, what appeared to be a bookshop or library, and a restaurant. Her rebellion didn't have glamor or vanity. Conditions were rough, and food was subpar. She hadn't even seen any decent looking food for the past month or two.
Her small circle ended with her back at the clothing shop, waiting for the knights to come out of the clothing shop. While waiting, she decided to straighten out her long, red hair that had gotten extremely tangled from the horse ride earlier.
((I never diswelcomed Sol. He was an interesting character and I thoroughly enjoyed him. As Thinslayer said, the choice is yours to withdraw, but I thoroughly enjoyed him. Also, I can't possibly help but think the robot looks like this.))
Teach goes into a nearby retail store, and looks for a few articles of clothing that would fit here and there.
A little frustrated at his failure to procure any tasteful results, though, he simply waits by a pillar and stares off into space (disregard the Tundrus until later), though more directed at Sona and the alchemist than anything.
Hopefully, he'd present himself as passable to Lady Grey. He wasn't sure how she'd act towards him since his first prank a decade and a half ago...
~~~
I thought the robot would look like this or this, but...welp, who knows?
If @anyone would read this and give some feedback on it, that'd be great. I wrote a character sheet in my notebook in the middle of Biology.
Name: Noel Exside
Gender: M
Age: 16
Race: Stranger, still appears human, Caucasian
Equipment: Roman tunic, tied at the waist by pearls, tights that end at the knees, sandals. All black.
Specialty: Computers, biology. Martial combat.
Bio: Noel had no parents growing up, for reasons still unclear. In an effort to sway karma, he grew up quiet and calm. Becoming a scholar at a young age, he joined a society of secluded Strangers, learning the information gathered by generations of these sentries of time.
He had to leave though, after he had learned all he could, to find his own Path to the Core. The darkness of ages had come, and encroached on the surface. The Knights had awoken the evil within both themselves, and the Architect.
His ultimate wish it to become the new Architect through a pilgrimage to the Core, hoping his passivity will win him the strength of the world.
@Vinny
@Xeromon/yiggie
On a serious note, I don't see how this character align with the story we are trying to go for, but then again, Elt is playing a gladiator so who am I to judge?
I don't care about the character aligning with this story, I said this. I just want feedback on the character themselves.
That I was unaware of...
Neat.
-
IC: Flynn buys himself an old fashioned trenchcoat, which looks great with his buttoned vest and slim pants.
He exits, and dusts the trenchcoat off in a backward motion.
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OOC: And then a bird flies by and drops a pirate hat on Flynn's head.
Because that totally happens.
Flynn would actually have a rather dapper hat to go with his clothing, but he doesn't.
Jolt rushed forward, sword held high. He would finish this now while he had the upper hand.
Suddenly, with only a few feet to his foe, Julius disappeared!
Crash! Jolt's light shield and back armor shattered with one blow from the heavy sword, also knocking away his weapons and hide shield. He rolled, but Julius held him down with a heavy boot. Jolt took the moment to be surprised that his armor protected him from the blow. His only hope to defend against the next one was to raise his intact arm-guards and hope for the best, because it certainly would not miss. How had Julius moved so quickly and quietly?!
[[She did give her name already... Right here. And I've used her name over and over in posts.
As for T.I.F.A. Pi's shellform appearance, I've already revealed what most of her skin looks like (see Post #119, where I said it in OOC within the writing -- most of her skin is like this guy's, albeit a bit lighter -- it's that way to release heat she can build up within herself). I've also revealed time and time again that she has a screen-like face (like a phone's) with very small LED's to create facial expressions and symbols (like the Battery symbol, for example). This mean her face isn't completely screen-like, but is quite close.
I had also said that she does have "hair" back in Post #45. The hair style itself is much like Vinny's guess (This one's), but it's not strand-like, or mobile. It's just a bunch of plates piled on top of one another to give depth, with the overall shape of the previously mentioned hair style.
As for more specific bodily details, she is Monochromatic in color (grey skin, grey hair, etc -- 'cause she's made of metal -- but her LED's can be a variety of colors, with Blue being the one Tifa uses for Facial Expressions, Red for warnings, and Yellow or Other Colors (like White) for other symbols), her forearms are a lighter grey than her Torso, and her legs (mid-thigh and down) are also lighter. This causes the illusion of "darker clothing" -- specifically a Dark Tanktop and Dark Shorts being worn. Robots don't need clothing, so Tifa was never given any.
Her legs are much like Zero's in design, but with the metal-layering (because it is, in the end, her "skin"). Speaking of Zero, her face is much like Zero's screen-face as well. Just... Covered a bit with metal-plate hair.
Her arms look "bare" in appearance (with "bare" being her regular lined-skin appearance -- no fancy plating or anything on top), but there is a distinct line splitting through the underside of each arm, which allows her "skin" to fold outwards, and reveal an advanced heat exhaust mechanism. Due to the fact that it'd only ever be used when she is overheating, the out-folded "skin" would also act as an incredibly high temperature shield if held in front of her. Heat exhaust would be would be most effective in this position.
Currently, her left leg's joint (her knee) has broken. Her leg is still in-tact, being held together by wires internally, but it cannot be walked on. She's also got a great deal of Rust n' Dust on her... Not so much Dust anymore though, thanks to the ride.
Her LED screen is also cracked down the middle, just like millions of phones around the world. It could be worse, though...
Repairs and touch-ups are needed.
@Xero/Mr. Yiggs
I liked 'im. Sol would have probably met a great deal of potential plot-driving in 45 posts or so, and then become a large driving force in the RP -- or at least a central-pillair. That's just my guess, though. Not entirely sure why you're withdrawing him, but... As others have said, it's your choice. If I may speak my mind, however, I'd wish for him to stay.
As for your App... It's good, but would only be able to be used for a handful of RP's (i.e. those traveling to the Core at some point). Also, his reasoning for wanting to become the Architect is unclear. If he's passive, he needs a driving reason -- wavering hearts need a wind to blow them in the direction of glory. I suppose that would be fleshed out in whatever RP/Fanfic the character would be used in though... If he's a central character in said writing-format, that is.]]
~~~
Tifa's vents had been hard at work venting in Mist energy the whole ride to the city and had recovered... A whole 13% of power! Normally, with this much power, Tifa could activate her internal Nuclear reactor, and use the Mist energy as a catalyst to create a nuclear reaction -- one to gain even more energy at a much greater pace. That would, however, cause a great deal of... Discomfort to those around her, and so despite having the option, Tifa shrugged off the option to become a nuclear reactor in the middle of the city she had just been brought to.
Instead, she re-activated and did her best to not move around much. While this only allowed her to look at the ground (which wasn't the most entertaining thing to do), at least she could take in information via sound while regaining a bit of surplus Energy. She waited a minute for another number to be added to her current percentage, and when it changed to a glowing 14% on her HUD, she activated her speech and hoped that the mechanism could hold on long enough to let out her question without resulting in a short-circuit and draining what little power she had.
"I don't suppose there's a [Bzzt-Zrrrchh] mechanic somewhere nearby? While I can-can--c-c-c-cannot pitch in any money for repairs, I would appreciate a [Bzt] mechanic's analysis of my d-dddd-d-d-damages at least."
She then looked back up at her power. 8%. After deactivating her speech, her vents continued to make a mechanical "whirr" noise as she waited for an answer.
~~~
[[EDIT: to make Tifa's appearance easier to understand, I have emboldened important parts.]]
Teach yawned as he leaned off his saddle towards the center of the road.
"Either she's done horribly well or terrible to have this much silence."