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Recruitment is closed, this is now an OOC thread! The world didn't end. It's ending. Present-loving-tense. It's a little loving arrogant to say that the world is over when millions of humans all cling to the last lovely remnants of food and water left on the burnt earth. You can go on like an rear end in a top hat about how it used to be better, how everything was green and wet and beautiful, but there's no going back. Even if everyone had enough food and water and guzzoline and medicine and you managed to magically convince people to stop being assholes to each other, we still lost a billion people. That's a billion with a B. Where did they all go? Why does the sky burn? Who killed the world? Why doesn't anyone remember? The worst part is this: no one seems to give a poo poo. Here you've got the Jesus freaks going on about how we earned this hell and over there you've got the junkies chasing their eden and all over town there are a hundred morons trying to screw someone, anyone out of a buck as if money can buy anything but misery. Everyone is so caught up in today that they're not thinking about tomorrow. Tomorrow is coming motherfuckers, and sooner than you think. Some day the last woman will fall to her knees on the cracked ground and a final whisper will slip past her parched lips: "why?" That's all folks, good night to the human race. Maybe it's better somewhere else. Maybe it can be better here. Maybe we're all just hosed. Someone has to give a poo poo, though. If not you, who? Okay assholes, you know the drill: Apocalypse World. If you don't know what's going on here, get your rear end up to speed. Newbies welcome. Questions encouraged. LE playbooks are tentatively allowed if you've got an awesome character and aren't just in it for the gimmick. Shared backgrounds are OK but that's no guarantee that everyone who shares a background is getting in. Bonus points for breaking the mold of retread apocalyptic poo poo. Go gonzo as gently caress. When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro. Zurui fucked around with this message at 22:16 on May 29, 2015 |
# ? May 26, 2015 00:52 |
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# ? Apr 26, 2024 09:26 |
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Posting to state my interest. Haven't decided which playbook yet. We'll see.
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# ? May 26, 2015 01:17 |
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Valentin, the Angel Long ago, healers took sacred oaths as part of their training, swearing to never cause harm, but only heal. That is foolishness. To keep people alive, one must excice the sickness, wether a cancerous tumor, or the scum who would harm those under your care. Thus, I keep my knives sharp and my tools ready, for whatever purpose may be required. pre:Valentin, the Angel Look man, aged formal wear, haggard face, hard eyes, spare body Stats Cool+1 Hard+1 Hot=0 Sharp+2 Weird-1 Gear 9-mm pistol (2-harm close loud) Angel's kit (6-stock) Set of gold teeth (1-barter) Bulletproof vest (1-armor) Infirmary You get an infirmary, a workspace with life support, a drug lab and a crew of 2 (Abigail and Lovisa). Get patients into it and you can work on them like a savvyhead on tech. Sixth sense When you open your brain to the world’s psychic maelstrom, roll+sharp instead of roll+weird. Abigail, my assistant. Lovisa, my second assistant Sax Battler fucked around with this message at 23:31 on May 26, 2015 |
# ? May 26, 2015 01:37 |
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What up I'm on it, will have either a character concept or full sheet by tonight. Edit: calling for Gunlugger. Rolling up a hosed up psychic with a witchy trigger finger. Error 404 fucked around with this message at 02:28 on May 26, 2015 |
# ? May 26, 2015 01:40 |
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Getting in on the ground floor! The Keymaster, Hocus The bottom of the cage is covered in keys. Thousands of keys, of a hundred different styles, so many I can't even begin to count them.. One of them unlocks the cage. But which one? Around the cage, a ring of flames, growing ever closer. I'm already sweating, and the metal of the keys and of the cage-bars grows uncomfortably hot. I'll roast alive soon, if I don't get out. Outside the ring of flames, a ring of people, dancing a ritualistic stomp-dance around the ring of fire, watching me, eager, anticipatory. They're all adorned with keys - keys on necklaces, on bracelets, attached to their clothes, woven into their hair. They jingle rhythmically as the dancers circle. I was one of them once - the People of the Key, who follow the Keymaster. But when the last Keymaster lost her life, it came time to find the new avatar her spirit had passed to. Feeling the light of the Open Door inside me, and drunk with faith and stupidity, I had volunteered. I have mastered every test the People have put me to, survived the rituals of selection designed to weed out pretenders and false prophets, and now here I am, at the final test. If I am truly the Keymaster, I will find the key and open the door. If I am not...well, I brought this on myself. I frantically scrabble through the keys. They're starting to scald my hands. I try a few - none of them fit the lock, and I toss them aside. The flames roar. My hair begins to singe. I can barely see the dancers through the flames, but I hear them. Stomp, jingle, stomp, jingle, stomp, jingle. I screw my eyes shut for an instant, trying to force myself to concentrate, to focus, to push the noise out of my head - but instead it only grows louder, until it feels like the drumming and jingling is in my head, it's everywhere at once, go away makeitstopmakeitstop I'll be willing to burn to death if it just makes the noise go away. Even when I open my eyes again it's still there, in my ears, in my head. I'm pretty sure I scream, but I don't hear it. And as the sound of the dancers reaches a crescendo in my brain, I hear it. It's not a voice, at least not a human voice, but there are words, in the noise of the keys, in the music of the keys. They're speaking to me. Listen! the music rasps. There is another door, I hear, and within the music I hear the voices of every Keymaster who has come before me and every dancer circling the pit, speaking as one. It is already unlocked. You just have to open it. The heat is unbearable. I don't have much time left. I focus on the voice in the music, the only lifeline I have left. I see nothing else, I hear nothing else, I feel nothing else. Reach out and claim what is ours. Almost unbidden, I thrust my hand out, deep into a pile of keys. The pain jolts me, but my hand closes around a single key - heavy, large, surprisingly cool. I know without further thought that it will open the door. It slides easily into the lock, which comes open with a click that seems impossibly loud. At once the door falls open, and the dancers stop. I jump out of the ring of flames, roll to a stop on the ground, and rise to my feet. My hair is singed, my eyebrows are gone, my face is soot-blackened, and my arms are burned. There is silence for a breath, then two, then three. I fill it. Somehow I know exactly what to say. "The people of the Old World locked every door," I bellow. "They sealed vast wealth in vaults while those outside of them could barely afford to live! They locked meat and grain in storehouses while their fellow-beings starved! They barred the doors to their homes while children froze to death on their front stoops! They marked off the Earth with borders and walls and fences, barred them behind gates, said to each other 'THIS IS MINE!' By this, they doomed themselves. Locks killed the world. But to every lock, there is a key. I AM THE KEYMASTER, and I will find them. Follow me, and together, we will open every door they locked behind them." The People - my people - cheer. quote:The Keymaster Mister Bates fucked around with this message at 21:13 on Jun 11, 2015 |
# ? May 26, 2015 01:46 |
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So this is the first Apocalypse World recruit to go up after I found the Behemoth playbook. So I thought I would build one. Now it might not really fit the game, up to you, if it doesn't then I will probably build a Horseman. Probably with some kind of motorcycle since an actual horse would probably be a little difficult to keep up. Name: Gorgameth Playbook: Behemoth Size: Of a Garage Eyes: All-Seeing Eyes Looks: Molten, Ursine Cool +0 Hard +1 Hot N/A Sharp +0 Weird +1 Gear: None. but companions likely carry some gift, token, trophy or device related to me. Stats & Monstrous Traits • Cool+0, Hard+1, Hot N/A, Sharp+0, Weird+1 • You count as a small gang • You have natural armor-1 • Gargantuan or mythic: you count as a medium gang • Plated, invincible, or fluid: take +1armor (total 2 armor) • By default unable to communicate in human languages -- though you read emotions well and understand many words -- You cannot use any move that requires Hot. Taking moves from another playbook may allow you a workaround. Moves Rage: At the beginning of each session or when you witness the destruction or suffering of something that you protect, mark off one Rage countdown segment. If your rage is now at 12 o' clock, you rampage. Rampage: You cannot bear it any longer, the injustices of the world are too manifest and wanton. Until your rage countdown returns to zero, your anger cannot be quenched. Demonstrating an emotion other than rage is Acting under fire and you cout as a gang one size larger. You may erase a rage segment by doing one of the following: • Assault a monument to human hubris. • Destroy the fragile trappings of civilization. • Target those responsible. • Unleash chaos. • Terrorize innocents. Sooth the Savage Beast: You may erase a rage segment at any time, even during a rampage, if someone does one of the following: • Treat you with compassion and respect • Show you who or what is the real culprit • Place themselves in harm's way • Create a moment of quiet and calm Make Yourself Understood: When you attempt to impress your feelings upon someone through your expressions, body language, attitude, and actions, if they are an NPC, roll+Sharp. On a 10+, choose 3; on a 7-9, choose 1. • They share a moment of true empathy with you • They do something they think you want • They will not oppose what you do next • They will not side with those arrayed against you • They get out of the way If a PC, pick what you want them to do off the list & treat it as manipulating someone, but roll+HX instead of roll+Hot. Companions Your companions can consist entirely fo the other PCs, entirely of NPCs, or any mix. If they include any NPCs, sketch them out with the MC --names (e.g. Angler, Hellion, Joong, Mishi, Docks, Justice, Elsha) and brief descriptions. Make sure they have a reason to hang around in your general vicinity; a fascination, obsession, mission, debt, hatred, delusion, bond, greed, scheme, or something else.
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# ? May 26, 2015 02:11 |
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The sky burns with a fearful light these days. Most avoid its glare. It causes our weak eyes, our flesh great pain. They staked me out for three days. On the third night, I found I could see again. Again? I don't know that I can call what I had before real sight. It's been a very long time since I paid my debts. Now, I collect them. Sclera, the Brainer posted:
Tollymain fucked around with this message at 03:42 on May 26, 2015 |
# ? May 26, 2015 02:28 |
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If there's still room, I'd be interested in playing a Skinner. Vec's a tattoo artist, with a marvelous ability to make someone look more like themselves, or more like what he wants them to be. Sometimes his gift gets away from him and the results aren't what he expects. The combination of the work and the bearer give life to a good tattoo. When the tattoo seems to have life of its own, does that make it great, or really bad? Look at the land and the sky and you can probably guess. I can do a full character sheet tomorrow if I'm in.
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# ? May 26, 2015 02:43 |
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Teacher, the Battlebabe I know a story they tell, out here on the edge. About a kind woman who did her best to educate the children unfortunate enough to grow up so far from the last bastions of light. How she struggled for years to do the right thing by her students, and be a productive member of the community. And then the Burning-cult rolled into town. They got a few willing converts sure, but not enough to refill their ranks after some battle. So they torched the unnamed town and took the survivors with them. And they say that the gentle soul of a woman was so horribly wounded that she was left for the wolves. And then, if I remember correctly, the story goes on to say that she by the grace of God survived. That she donned what armor and took up what guns she could find, and tracked the cult across the Dead Plain. And killed every last one of them. And knowing that she had spilled blood, could never return to her former peaceful life, and dedicated herself to eradicating the Burning-cult from the face of the Earth. Sounds familiar, yes? So knowing this, why did you and the rest of your cultists decide to set up camp this side of the mountains? Surely you didn’t think I wouldn’t notice, that I would turn a blind eye to the presence of the hated cult? Tsk tsk, what are they teaching kids today? sounds of screams and shotgun fire Of course, the story doesn’t mention the fact that when leads on the cult go dry I make jingle by teaching folk their letters, basic history, and self-defense. Stories prefer the psychopathic antihero to the nurturing defender. A shame really. I try to point folks in a more helpful direction, but Lord knows its kinda hard to look on the bright side these days. Maybe once the Burning-cult is a fading memory, I’ll be able to open up a new school. That sounds nice. Well dearie, its been nice chatting with you, its so rare I get a chance these days. And since you haven’t accepted the branding yet, I’ll give you a choice: renounce the cult and go free, or die a believer. What will it be? quote:Teacher, the Battlebabe e: fixed the name of the cult e2: better pic PoultryGeist fucked around with this message at 00:47 on May 28, 2015 |
# ? May 26, 2015 03:02 |
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Edited my sheet into my first post.
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# ? May 26, 2015 03:15 |
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Stating my interest! Gonna app either a Horseman (from Heroes of Hell, don't have the link on my tablet) or a Gunlugger, so watch this space!
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# ? May 26, 2015 03:16 |
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Ok, re-working a concept I had for a different game. Grim the Gunlugger A little theme music "I always know. I always know where they are. I always know where to - where to find them, where to - where to aim and when to duck, and I've always known where they were. I've always known that it wasn't luck. I've always known, I've always known that I could see." The only home I've ever really known in this whole world of blood and poo poo, is the middle of a fight. Everything slows down, and I don't have to think about anything, I don't have to pretend I can't hear the loving voices, I just...know. So I fight. It's been that way since I was a little girl. I've always heard voices, seen things. The day everyone stopped seeing me as 'the weird crazy witch-girl' was the day I picked up my first gun and showed you that I was worth two shits, then I became just the 'weird dangerous witch-girl'. Either way, I can feel all your fuckin eyes on me, I know what you're all talking about when everything goes quiet as I walk through the door. I know you all need me, and I know you all hate me for it, the whispers tell me everything. Knowing really loving hurts. With my knowledge, I can be useful, without it, I'd have been ventilated and left as dead weight years ago. quote:Name: Grim quote:GUNLUGGER MOVES: quote:BASIC MOVES: Error 404 fucked around with this message at 06:57 on Jun 13, 2015 |
# ? May 26, 2015 04:08 |
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You can't be wrong unless you're boring. Fuckin' love this photo. What do you wish you could keep under lock and key? What was your name before you became Keymaster? Who still calls you by that name? Ryuujin posted:Name: Gorgameth Wanna know more about Gorgameth. If someone was far away, or had burnt-up eyes, what would they mistake Gorgameth for? Who captured you, and how did you find freedom again? Do you still have a keeper? What thing does Sclera miss being able to see? How does fear make you excited? Who can you never take vengeance on? Zorak of Michigan posted:Skinner Vec No-one's in yet. Where does Vec get his ink? Where did he learn to do this, and why doesn't he tell anyone that? Who wants a cover-up, and why won't he do it? Who keeps escaping the Teacher's grasp? What do you teach about the Apocalypse? What do you keep from your town that you won't part with? Who is the voice - does it have a name, is it someone you knew, how does it treat you? Where's your blind spot, and how do you avoid it? What gun do you miss most from the years back?
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# ? May 26, 2015 04:40 |
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Zurui posted:What thing does Sclera miss being able to see? How does fear make you excited? Who can you never take vengeance on? If there's one thing I miss, it's being able to read. I hear that in the golden age, they had a written language even for the blind, but if it ever existed it's gone now. How does fear get me excited? Here's the truth, it's no big secret. Everybody gets off on fear, it's how we're wired. Some just can't handle the ride. I've paid my debts, all but one. Old Henry was the one who personally drove the stakes I was secured to into the earth, and the one I hated the hardest while I writhed under the unforgiving sky. When I stumbled back into the hold, though, he was gone. Gotten into a stupid argument over dice, got himself shot dead while I was out there screaming. I've forgiven the others, in my way, but not him. Not for getting away. Note: Sclera didn't go on a wild rampage or some such. He just subtly screwed over the folks who staked him out over the course of a year or so while people were still figuring out he was a mindreader. Information is power, etc.
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# ? May 26, 2015 05:02 |
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Not 100% sure but I may write up a Maestro'D.
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# ? May 26, 2015 05:15 |
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Zurui posted:Who is the voice - does it have a name, is it someone you knew, how does it treat you? Where's your blind spot, and how do you avoid it? What gun do you miss most from the years back? The voice? more like voices. A whole crowd of them, they whisper but it's deafening. Sometimes I can piece together a thought here, or a phrase there. Everybody's head-voice sounds like they're voice but sometimes I hear my own voice among the whispers. That's how I know poo poo's gonna get violent. It's like some part of me is connected to everything else, it says duck, I duck. It tells me turn right aim and fire, that's what I do. It's what I always do. As for a blind spot, it's more like what isn't. The only time the whispers are ever reliable is when I'm fighting for my life. Any other time I try to use my...gift, it's a complete crapshoot that usually makes everything even worse even if it helps (usually it don't) . I avoid it by moving constantly, everybody wants a good gun in their group these days, and the longer I stay in one place the more hosed everything gets. Like, this world is darkness and madness and death, but most of y'all are lucky enough to be able to close your eyes when it gets too scary. You got yer chillstabs, yer rotgut, yer smokes, or you can just gently caress the pain away. As for me? It's like I got my eyelids sliced off when I was little, and every person I ever meet grinds just a little more dirt in there every day. Every single one of you fuckers dancing on every exposed nerve. As you can probably understand, having the whispers on my side keeps me alive through fights, well, it also leaves a lot of meat on the floor. It's how I got the sweet gear I'm rocking, but I'll never forget my first gun, a lovely old hunting rifle with a misaligned scope. We used it to catch squirrels mostly, well my Dad did. When the Jesus freaks tried to burn me, and they killed Dad, well I used that rifle to end each and every one of those inbred pieces of poo poo. I kept it around for a bit, it had sentimental value, until some fucker in some shithole ran over it with his truck, shattered the stock and bent the barrel to hell. So I took his gun, and his truck, and his life. Error 404 fucked around with this message at 06:49 on May 26, 2015 |
# ? May 26, 2015 05:31 |
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Zurui posted:Fuckin' love this photo. You like my shades? Had these a long time, brother, long time. Long before I found the Key and started unlocking doors. Well, heh heh, I mean, I was still unlocking doors, but...there was no purpose to it, back then. Until I found the Key, it was just a living. And I picked up a couple shiny things along the way, too - most of them long gone, of course, but these shades? They're not going anywhere. Anyway, to answer your questions. quote:What do you wish you could keep under lock and key? You know, we fight when we have to - sometimes people don't take too kindly to our beliefs, sometimes people take us for weaklings and try to take what we've got, you know how it is. We fight pretty well if I do say so myself - but we always seem to lose someone, and we've buried a lot of people since I joined up with this scene. Good people. So if I had to pick one thing on this Earth to seal up behind a big, solid, locked door, it'd be every gun, every bomb, every bullet, every crossbow and spear and club and fuckin' broken-glass shiv in the Wastes, all neatly-stacked in some big-rear end vault deep in the mountains somewhere, closed up real tight, locked secure, with a big heavy lock and a big heavy key. The Last Key, that'd be a good name for it, don't you think? Someone could wear it around their neck on a chain or some poo poo. 'Course, we're still gonna use guns and bullets and clubs and shivs and what have you. People tell me I'm a fanatic and they may be right, but I ain't stupid. We'll lock that door once we've unlocked all the others. quote:What was your name before you became Keymaster? Who still calls you by that name? Anyway - stop me if I ramble too much, yeah? - anyway, took to petty thieving to support me and the fam. Nothing major, nothing that made too many waves, just enough to stay fed. Made a few enemies but for some reason they never iced me. Used to joke that I had a guardian angel - now that I've found the Key, I realize I was right. I had another, more...tangible guardian angel, though. Freeway and I have been hanging around together since we were kids. Both lost parents in the same storm - his mom was a caravan guard. We ended up making a pretty good team - I'd steal poo poo, he'd stand watch and run interference. He laughed his rear end off at me when I started hanging around the old Keymaster (who was smokin' hot, by the way, and that may have factored into my decision somewhat). Said I had to be crazy to believe any of that bullshit, that it was a bunch of head-in-the-clouds idealistic garbage that was just going to get me hosed over and probably killed. I agreed with him at the time - in my ignorance I thought it would just be a way to get bigger and easier scores. I realize now how wrong I was. Even as I dedicated myself further to the cause, Freeway stuck around - he still doesn't consider himself a follower of the Key, and still thinks this whole thing is ridiculous, but he's one of us, whether he's willing to admit it or not. I'm pretty sure I'll always be 'Rob' to him. Mister Bates fucked around with this message at 05:53 on May 26, 2015 |
# ? May 26, 2015 05:42 |
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Ford, the Driver "You need something from the wastes? You need something moved from place to another? You need a big, fat decoy to keep bandits off your back? Look no further, I'm your man." quote:Name: Ford The rust-bucket isn't pretty, and is louder than some wars, but she'll never let you down. quote:Car: Bellophon fucked around with this message at 02:08 on May 27, 2015 |
# ? May 26, 2015 09:05 |
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When I get home I'm going to write up a Faceless, with the full understanding that LE playbooks are under greater restrictions. I need to get the character down somewhere, though.
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# ? May 26, 2015 14:21 |
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Zurui posted:Where does Vec get his ink? Where did he learn to do this, and why doesn't he tell anyone that? Who wants a cover-up, and why won't he do it? Vec will get ink from anywhere. Everywhere. Is a thing a pretty color? If so, Vec will try to find a way to make ink out of it. Plants, minerals, foodstuffs, crush it between rocks and add a little liquid and you get color. If it sounds less than perfectly hygienic, well, what is, anymore? What did you expect, a foil-wrapped sterile alcohol swap to make your hide all fancy for the needle? He learned the technique the hard way. He was out foraging with his parents when he was a wee sprout, and the whole family got captured by some nasties dwelling up in the hills. They tattooed their prisoners according to some code of their own. (Vec does not know this, but it was actually a cannibal food safety system. They made a record of when they captured someone, and didn't eat them for at least a week after capture to make sure they weren't carrying anything.) They were rescued after a few days, though nobody involved was ever entirely OK. Dad couldn't handle it and joined the militia / defense squad / warboys to try to reclaim his manhood, and got killed a few months later, the way you do. Mom got some pretty bad PTSD and spent as much time out of her head as possible until she turned into a sort of cave-witch dwelling on the edges of the hold, and then it only took a few years for her to finish spiralling down. Vec was young enough to bounce back but that mark on his arm bothered him, invaded him, violated him. He wanted it off. It would not come off. He eventually found a way to live with it: he made it his own, fit it into a larger picture. Then he thought it would be even more his own if his other arm matched. His technique was sloppy but he always had the vision. The rest came in time. He doesn't talk about it because he's repressed all of it. The boy with the unmarked skin wasn't Vec. He was just a canvas. Joey the Cliff leads a bunch of stockmen. It's no easy job trying to keep a herd alive and un-rustled, so when they make it back into Vec's part of the hold, they're about as cheery as honey badgers with the clap. Vec did some nice work for Joey. Joey's kind of beautiful under the grime, all muscle and honest scars. But Joey's minion Slickle, he's a different story. He's got allergies and acne and all the other classic trappings of the bottom of the pecking order. He's just an ugly little man, and somehow it's just never his turn to go under the needle. It's a little bit because Vec can get away with treating him that way and likes flexing that tiny bit of muscle, but it's mostly because Vec can't see any underlying beauty there. Vec looks at him and just sees one problem after another. Vec knows exactly what design would suit Slickle from an aesthetic point of view, but Slickle would try to kill him for drawing it, and Joey might just let him. Zorak of Michigan fucked around with this message at 18:33 on May 26, 2015 |
# ? May 26, 2015 15:44 |
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Zurui posted:Who keeps escaping the Teacher's grasp? I know better now, but others don’t. He’s a pretty man, and hides the crazy well. Always seems to be able to convince some poor soul to help him stay one step ahead of me. But I will catch him, and I still have the pig-sticker he left in my side. Figure I should return the favor. Zurui posted:What do you teach about the Apocalypse? But if I can, I focus on the future. How most-likely all the folks that precipitated the End are dead, but we aren’t. And how things are bad now, but thousands of years ago, the entire human race would fit into one of the old stadiums, and we survived. Hope for the future is a hard thing to talk about nowadays, but its important to try. And maybe they only listen to me because they see the blood on my gloves, but hopefully at least a few get it. We do have a future. Zurui posted:What do you keep from your town that you won't part with? There was a boy, little Gregor. Kind and sensitive, I had convinced his parents to send him back to the bastions to art school. All of the children chipped in for this, but he painted it. Bless his heart. The Burning-cult arrived the day before he was to leave. I was able to rescue him and… most of the children, but the cult had blinded him and crippled his hands. They’re not much for art and artists I guess. When I left them in a safe place and became Teacher, I couldn’t bear to leave it behind as well. When the road is hard or the pain great, I look at it and remember why Teacher is. *clears throat* We done here?
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# ? May 26, 2015 17:48 |
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Is a Macaluso too weird to app? I'm thinking a small cabal that knows things are going wrong and are trying to fix them. Working together but none able to do enough on their own, and all having twists from the Maelstrom.
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# ? May 26, 2015 18:11 |
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Decided to add the "pro" to the weird turning pro! Clover, the Operator So, I understand you've come into my little place to tell me about something you want done for you. Oh, don't worry about how I know that - I have eyes everywhere in this hold. No one finds me without me wanting them to. So, as I understand it, you've got some jingle, and a job that wants done. But first, I think we should just chat a bit. Please, sit down. You know, there's a significant difference in the world between what people want and what they NEED. Look at the gang out there, past the gates, with their bikes and all their sound and fury. What do they want? Luxe. Slaves. Jingle. Bloodshed and carnage and a violent orgy of all their basest desires. But tell me what you think they NEED. To go away? My, you are adorable. And a bit of a wise-arse, at that. Doesn't hurt, really, nowadays. What they need, dear, is a swift and violent end. You see, there are other needs in play as well. Variables upon variables, and wheels within wheels. I imagine it all sounds a bit mad, really, when you think about it. But the current needs that we're going to be worrying about are those of the people within the gates, you and I included among them. See, THEY need to be left alone. To live in what passes for peace and harmony these days. They need to not be preyed upon by such jackals as these. She smiles sweetly, clicking the detonator in her hand. Explosives planted in the dirt in front of the hold's gates are triggered, sending showers of body and bike parts up into the sky. Problem solved. Shame I'll have to hunt down another stash of explosives. But that's neither here nor there. As I was saying, there are the things we want, and the things we need. Now, as I understand it, what you WANT is a ticket out of this hold, under cover of night, to get away from the things you've done here that some might find...unsavory. Oh, don't worry, dear - I've heard everything. You haven't been nearly as subtle in your inquiries as you thought you were. So here we find our little...impasse. There's the slight matter of what you want, and what you need. And I don't think I need to tell you which of those you're going to get. quote:Clover, the Operator Tempus Rimeblood fucked around with this message at 20:35 on May 26, 2015 |
# ? May 26, 2015 19:21 |
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Chopper to appear here shortly! EDIT: I lied. It's below. QuantumNinja fucked around with this message at 23:29 on May 26, 2015 |
# ? May 26, 2015 20:16 |
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What is Clover's shameful vice? Do you take debate on needs and wants or are you a fanatic about it? When did you really gently caress it up and how do you live with yourself after that? neonchameleon posted:Is a Macaluso too weird to app? I'm thinking a small cabal that knows things are going wrong and are trying to fix them. Working together but none able to do enough on their own, and all having twists from the Maelstrom. Too weird? Nah. Go ahead and write it up. Tracking a bunch of cabal members will be easier in PbP, so long as you're willing to put in that kind of effort. - I've been promised characters from Methane, Zorak of Michigan, Bellophon, Green Intern, QuantumNinja, and maybe Evil Mastermind. You (and anyone else who is interested) have until Wednesday night, maybe Thursday morning before I start picking and choosing. Don't gently caress around on me, get something in!
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# ? May 26, 2015 21:39 |
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Updated my post to include my Driver character sheet.
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# ? May 26, 2015 22:04 |
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Bellophon posted:Updated my post to include my Driver character sheet. You're leeching the photo of your ride. Upload it to imgur.
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# ? May 26, 2015 22:52 |
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Mask, the Chopper Picture by Sergi Brosa "You see the woman with the skull, with wings of killers at her back, you don't stick around to find out why." Being a chopper isn't a weird gig, you know? You keep the fuckers in line, you keep their bikes moving, and you let them leave when they want. That's how I play it, anyway. I know there's some weird gently caress up north, leads a gang that calls themselves Tarots, that don't play it like that. Insists everyone sticks together. But I got enough poo poo going on keeping them fed, I don't give a gently caress if there's one less mouth. It also means I have room to grab a survivor out of the barren swamplands, shove a gun in their hand, and use 'em the next time poo poo goes down. And before you ask about the facepaint, you know that old hunter quote about goings and weirdness. So I got some white-chalk and some coal and I went weird, because you don't gently caress with weird unless you have to. Sucks for you that you're here talking to me, then, don't it? Now look, we gotta move on before dusk. I know you're hungry, and we got food. We got guns, we got gas, and we got the open sky until the rest of the stars burn out or whatever the gently caress is going on with 'em. But you have to work for it. And you can stay as long as you work, and you can go when you're done with it, but you try to stay and you don't throw in, I'll have Dex over there round up the crew and we'll set you on your way none-the-less. You get that? Good. So what'll it be? Gonna tie your rope to us? Because I got a good bowl of something I've been waiting to hit all day, and I get to go do that when you get your decision made. pre:Mask, the Chopper Looks. Mask is a woman who wears rag-tag, thrown-together scrounge biker wear over her wiry body. Her narrow face is consistently painted up in a skull, with black rings around her calculating eyes. Stats. Cool+1 Hard+2 Hot+1 Sharp=0 Weird-1 Moves. • All Basic Moves • Pack Alpha. when you try to impose your will on your gang, roll+hard. On a 10+, all 3. On a 7–9, choose 1: • they do what you want • they don’t fight back over it • you don’t have to make an example of one of them On a miss, someone in your gang makes a dedicated bid to replace you for alpha. • loving Thieves. when you have your gang search their pockets and saddlebags for something, roll+hard. It has to be something small enough to fit. On a 10+, one of you happens to have just the thing, or close enough. On a 7–9, one of you happens to have something pretty close, unless what you’re looking for is hi-tech, in which case no dice. On a miss, one of you used to have just the thing, but it turns out that some asswipe stole it from you. Bike. Bagheera power+1 looks+1 1-armor weakness+1 Strengths. Rugged, Aggressive Looks. Roaring, Muscular Weakness. Bucking Gear. Personal Fashion. (2-Armor) Piecemeal armor from old combat suits mixed in with punk-rocker vogue and spikes long enough to be unreasonable. No-nonsense Weapons. • smg (2-harm close area loud) • machete (3-harm hand messy) Gang. The Knots 3-harm gang small rich savage 1-armor mobile desertion This well-offrich of lost killers and gently caress-offs is well-armed+1harm and nomadic at heart+mobile, but the lost and the found come and go as they choose+desertion Hx: Lin: +0 Drift: +2 Gatito: -1 Grim: -1 Keymaster: -1 ROADSIDE: +0 Advancements choose a new option for your gang: your gang's self-sufficient, able to provide for itself by raiding and scavenging. It gets +rich. Dex VP,"Ramones" Optimator Sgt. At Arms, "Clash" All-Day Tank-7 West Ashley Smoke & Dagger Wee Mac Sammii Rhome QuantumNinja fucked around with this message at 22:25 on Jun 15, 2015 |
# ? May 26, 2015 23:03 |
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Post edited.
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# ? May 26, 2015 23:28 |
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Vec, the Skinner posted:Look:Man, fetish wear, strange face, arresting eyes, quick hands, slim body. He's painstakingly tattooed his face and chest, and generally goes shirtless to display his work. He wears his long coat, of the thinnest, smoothest black leather, over work pants but rarely a shirt. He keeps his head shaved, including his eyebrows. I'm terrible at finding pictures but I'm working on it. Zorak of Michigan fucked around with this message at 00:03 on May 27, 2015 |
# ? May 26, 2015 23:56 |
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ROADSIDE, the Faceless What's that sound? That scraping, crunching, dragging sound? You look around, but it's echoing off the walls of the old burned out mall you thought you were safe in with your stolen food. It should have been easy to get away, but ever since you scrammed out of that shithole those poor fucks called a town, you've had the feeling something was after you. gently caress, maybe that something finally caught up... All hell breaks loose. Something crashes through a window. Something big, mean, and hellbent on pasting you across the asphalt. And it's yelling something to someone you can't even see; are you surrounded? gently caress! You open fire, scoring craters across the monster's chest and arms, but Jesus Christ it's still coming at you and *Crack* Your legs are reduced to a bloody ruin as a hunk of steel and stone sweeps across them. Giant hands lift you up, hooking under your shoulders, and you see the face of your death. His eyes peer back from behind a bright orange mask of rubber, smeared with old blood and grime. You can see a hard mouth behind a scowling demon's fangs. And then he talks to you. "Jersey said you'd be here. Jersey said you needed to be stopped. Jersey knows what's right." ---- pre:Look: Man, Hulking pile of muscles. Scrounged Armor. Hard Eyes, Terrifying Traffic Cone Mask. Big fuckin Yield Sign. Stats Cool +1, Hard +3, (+2, +1 from Beastly) * Hot -1, Sharp = 0, Weird +1 * Unmasked: Afraid : You take -1 ongoing until you cover your face again. Irresolute. When you inflict harm, inflict -1harm. Barter: 1 Moves All Basic Moves, and; Rasputin: shot, stabbed, and poisoned, you just keep coming. When you are being scary as gently caress and coming at someone, you get +1-armor. You still get shot and stabbed, bleeding just doesn’t bother you that much anymore. Norman: you seek the advice of your mask. Roll+weird to see what it directs you to do. On a 10+ mark experience and take a +1 if you do as your mask wishes. On a 7–9, take a +1 if you do what it wants and act under fire if you don’t. On a miss, it has its own agenda and act under fire if you don’t follow it. Beastly: you get +1hard (total hard+3). Pack alpha: when you try to impose your will on your gang, roll+hard. On a 10+, all 3. On a 7–9, choose 1: • they do what you want • they don’t fight back over it • you don’t have to make an example of one of them On a miss, someone in your gang makes a dedicated bid to replace you for alpha. Gear -Uprooted Yield Sign(3 Harm, hand, messy) -Scrounged armor made of Road Signs, cabling, and strips of tire rubber. (armor 2) -Traffic Cone Mask named Jersey - Eye and mouth holes cut out in the likeness of a scowling fanged face. Grimy, and splashed with dried blood. -Assorted nuts, bolts, and other small machine parts (1 barter) Gang Edit: added in a pic I bashed together. Remembered to include my Barter. Updated with Hx and Highlights Green Intern fucked around with this message at 22:35 on Jun 11, 2015 |
# ? May 27, 2015 00:01 |
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Gatito, the Juggernautpre:Look: concealed, scrounged bodysuit, worried face, haunted eyes, wiry body Stats: Cool+1 Hard +1 Hot=0 Sharp +2 Weird-1 Moves: Beast of War: When you are in your suit, roll +Sharp instead of +Hard to seize by force or go aggro. Additionally, you count as a small gang when in battle, as long as you are in your suit. Walk through Walls: You have tools to break walls, fortifications or other structures. When you try to smash through something, roll +Hard. On a 10+ you batter your way through okay, on a 7-9 choose one: • you collapse it onto yourself and are briefly trapped; • it’s too strong to knock down; • it’s going to take some time. On a miss, you’ll probably be stuck or trapped halfway through. Gear: -Oddments worth 2-barter -a denim jacket and cargo pants -9mm (2-harm close loud) -Armor --Hi-Tech --Reliable --Exotic Fuel --Flamethrower (3-harm close area fire) --Power Fist (3-harm hand messy) Hx: Lin: Drift: +2 Mask: +3 Grim: +1 Keymaster: =0 ROADSIDE: +1 Captain Foo fucked around with this message at 01:49 on Jun 11, 2015 |
# ? May 27, 2015 00:26 |
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Bellophon posted:Ford, the Driver What do you say to people who laugh because you're named Ford, but your ride carries the Mark of Chevrolet? When one of your rear doors got blown off, what did you replace it with? Where the gently caress did you get that rust bucket? Having an assistant is something, how did Valentin end up with two? Where do you hide your infirmary, and from whom? Who died to drive you into becoming an angel? Green Intern posted:ROADSIDE, the Faceless Fuckin' hell, how does someone get a man like Roadside to fight for them? Who did you show mercy on, and why? Tell me a lie about how you found Jersey. What were the Knots before they were the Knots? Where does Mask keep returning to, even though she doesn't know why? Who deserves no mercy, no matter what? How hard is it to leave your suit, and when was the last time you did? Why are you so afraid of leaving it behind? When you're alone, what do you try not to think about?
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# ? May 27, 2015 00:37 |
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Zurui posted:Fuckin' hell, how does someone get a man like Roadside to fight for them? Who did you show mercy on, and why? Tell me a lie about how you found Jersey. Jersey tells me who must suffer, who must be punished. One the endless asphalt veins of the world, there are laws, rules. When you cross the lines that bind the people together and keep them apart from the animals that piss over civilization, you are forfeit. Sometimes Jersey does not speak to me. He has his ways. It is then that he leaves me to my own devices and judgment. To act as his arm, and his voice. It is our way to find the wrongs, and right them. To balance the scales of justice. Jersey allows me this role, and I allow the People to approach me if their cause is right. Once, I followed Jersey's voice to find a man. He was a murderer, Jersey said. Killed without care. A monster behind a smile. When I found him, he carried a sack of food to a sick man's house. This man, Jute, had great resources, and he spent them for the good of all. When I went to strike him down, I found I could not. Jersey was furious, but who would take Jute's place in feeding the people, if I had? I knew that Jersey's anger would cool. I am his chosen instrument. He came to me one night, as I stumbled through the darkness on a long and barren road. The asphalt ground beneath my feet, even as my soles bled. My face burned from the sun, even after it had long since set. I felt I could not go on, for I had not eaten in days. Then, there he was, sitting on the road ahead in a circle of light. He called to me, saying I would be granted great power and duty, if only I would take up the mask. I did not hesitate to do so. Jersey says that is a mark of my destiny, as hesitation is a sign of weakness. He does not let me forget about Jute. Added a picture, btw.
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# ? May 27, 2015 01:28 |
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Zurui posted:You're leeching the photo of your ride. Upload it to imgur. Sorry about that, fixed it. edit: Zurui posted:What do you say to people who laugh because you're named Ford, but your ride carries the Mark of Chevrolet? When one of your rear doors got blown off, what did you replace it with? Where the gently caress did you get that rust bucket? The joke was funny maybe the first dozen times I heard it, but it's long past lost its novelty. You get one warning, then things become unpleasant. Now, the rust bucket ain't pretty, but that's all on the surface. Underneath she's reasonably solid, and is always ready to start on the first turn when you need her. poo poo happens though, and when she needs repairs I got to my guy, Wrench. I wouldn't call him a friend, but we ain't enemies either. I get him some scrap and do the occasional "special" job, and in return he fixes the bucket up best he can. The story of the rust bucket herself is a boring one, it being I found her sticking out some sinkhole in an old, picked-over junkyard. Was a passenger back in those days, with the driver, Sparx, and another passenger, Axel. They thought I was nuts to bring her back, took my entire cut for the next three runs to get them to listen to me, but listen they did. Now that I had a ride of mine own, I decided to go out on my own. After doing those runs I owed them of course. I always pay my debts. Bellophon fucked around with this message at 02:51 on May 27, 2015 |
# ? May 27, 2015 02:08 |
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Well, Brütal Legend put me in the mood for Apocalypse World, even if I'm very, very new to it. Is a Hardholder okay, or would all the strings attached not fit the kind of game you were looking for? I wasn't sure what playbook would be best. I was thinking of someone really ambitious, someone struggling to be in a position to say something like "The burning sky blasts unimaginable quantities of energy at us each instant, and virtually every joule of it is wasted entirely. Incomprehensible riches can be ours if we can but stretch our arms wide enough to dip from this eternal river of wealth.", and Hardholder seemed to fit much better than Operator or Savvyhead.
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# ? May 27, 2015 03:25 |
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I'm totally down for a Hardholder, so long as you're okay with managing a Hold. By that, I don't mean beancounting and mechanics; I mean fighting to keep what's yours while the wrong choices could mean dozens of people die in battle or starve to death when the wilting plague takes half the mutacorn crop. If you play your cards right, you can build a nice place (or a place that's your kind of terrible) and change your little part of the world. If that sounds awesome, saddle up.
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# ? May 27, 2015 03:34 |
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So what you're saying is that Colonel Lin needs to take Insano like Drano from the Gunlugger as the second improvement, because I guess losing your goddamn mind actually does make things easier.
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# ? May 27, 2015 04:16 |
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Might do a Touchstone, though I'm looking at Hardholder or a Driver possibly. I'll try to dodge any other apps but we're running out of playbooks.
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# ? May 27, 2015 04:24 |
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# ? Apr 26, 2024 09:26 |
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GatitoZurui posted:How hard is it to leave your suit, and when was the last time you did? Why are you so afraid of leaving it behind? When you're alone, what do you try not to think about? 47 days ago, and it's difficult. Physically and mentally. I can barely get it off myself, but I can. Last time I needed to put a new rod of 235 in the suit. The wrench-head couldn't figure out the slotting, but she did have the fuel, so off it came. I'm sure you don't like to be naked, do you? I was reborn in this suit, and it gives me a role. Alone I am nothing and would not survive, wouldn't be. Perhaps the old me would be able to survive, but he's gone. Alone. That's when I see Barnard's Boys. They hired me for a wrecking job. But what they did to the Farm? So, so much worse.
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# ? May 27, 2015 04:26 |