# Off-Topic Discussion > Entertainment > Forum RP Games > RP Games Archive >  >  Whisky Nocturne

## Siиdяed

_WHISKY NOCTURNE_

And thus another doomed ship departs.

Mm. The writing bug has me again. And as it began to itch no-Name suggested something that might appease it, in a somewhat serendipitous manner.
Another play at _ANTI-HEROES_. Which is a fucking stupid idea.
But with a rebranded new name and look because it'd be nice to see new faces playing.

But I'm willing to play it out again until I get bored.

*The Rules*


*Spoiler* for _The Rules_: 



Those who played the original game ought remember them. There were variants in Helm, Dominion, House of Spades, UNFOUND, Singapore...

The basic rules are best explained here, and if any confusion arises for newer players it can be discussed in this thread.

The chapters of the game are being posted in the *Whisky Nocturne - The Volumes* thread, which should only have posts by myself that detail the events your characters are involved in.
Keep conversation and discussion of the game here.




*Character Submission*

*Spoiler* for _Character Submission_: 



Once again, this ought to be familiar. To begin the game there will only be five players to ensure I don't get swamped early on (though this will inevitably occur), and preference will be given to players of games like the first Anti-Heroes, Helm, UNFOUND, Dominion, and all the other similiar doomed ventures. Newer players should still feel free to post a character sheet, as players may be revolved or supplemented later on.

*Character Name:* _The character name...obviously..._
*Gender:* _I get confused easily_.
*Age:* _...obviously..._
*Appearance:* _This is physical appearance, not clothes. Be modest_.
*Favoured Weapons:* _Try to pick some that will fit in to a genericky faux-Wild West context, and remember these aren't necessarily the ones you'll end up with. Mostly this is whether you'd sooner fight with a rifle, pistol, gatling gun...or maybe even a more savage affair with a tomahawk or spear or lance or somesort._
*Talents:* _The skills your character has; not too many, ego-freaks._
*Persona:* _The attitudes, the mannerisms, the general personality of your character._




*Background and Premise*

This is the story _Anti-Heroes Blond_ was going to be. Perhaps. With a variety of new ideas and the usual mish-mash-up of various cultural influences.

Primarily it is the story of a maverick band of misfit army-convicts who are let loose in the warzone, trapped between the forces they once fought for and the enemy. There will be jungles, there will be savages, and they will be wildly, wildly Lovecraftian gods to combat.

An old-school adventure story with plenty of ridiculously fantastical adversaries and mishaps for the intrepid players to overcome.


This really marks the beginning of a shiny new era for Forum RP Games, along with - I hope - an array of sparkly other new games that I'm pushing people to do.
Most crucially this game is about me proving to the staff that I _can_ make what was Arcane Arena into an active, fun old joint with plenty of kooky cats having a pretty jive old time in as it _should_ be, rather than the stagnant inactive wasteland it became.

And of course, proving to the staff that I can do this marks Stage One of my inevitable rise to the position of Head Admin. Your joining up and participation with this game is a vote for me as GodKing of all DV. And if that isn't encouragement enough I don't know what is.

So fill in a neat little character sheet from above and post it here, whether you're new to it all or not, and just watch as the fun unfolds. It's easier than my rambling makes it look.

Easier for you. Not for me. I have to write fucktons. ._.

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## Irken

Character Name: Isaac D. Locke
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Appearance: Normal height 5'10", Thick blonde unkempt hair. Kept short above eye level. A lean build he doesn't look to be overpowering. Light blue eyes. Pale White skin. 
Favoured Weapons: Rifle, handgun, and knife.
Talents: Crack shot, survivalist.
Persona: Quiet, people often don't hear what he is saying. He is very tolerant but can snap if given the right provocation.

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## Siиdяed

Perfick.

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## no-Name

Character Name:  Aaron Clark
Gender: Male
Age: 43 
Appearance: African American, with a shaved head, thick strong legs with plenty of girth, and droopy dirt-brown eyes.
Favoured Weapons: Shotguns. Bigger the better. 
Talents: Yelling, melee combat with a gun, and reading/writing. Yes, he's literate.
Persona: Old and tired. Would rather knock out an opponent than kill them. Very stable and calm.

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## Siиdяed

Your character is essentially.



Which is awesome.

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## nina

Character Name: Missy Stream
Gender: female
Age: 21
Appearance: 5'8" 125 lbs, well toned, athletic build, tanned skin, medium length dark brown hair that she often likes to hide behind, piercing green eyes, small but firm chest
Favoured Weapons: best at throwing knives, but whatever she can grab; beer bottles, rope, boot spurs, playing cards, poker chips
Talents: creating weapons out of normal everyday objects, lulling men into false sense of security, trick horse riding 
Persona: a real jack of all trades, prefers to spend time in her own twisted mind, but always loves a good fight, extremely loyal friend, doesn't always fight fair

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## Kiza

Name: Titties Manfuck Arthur Radley
Gender: Male
Age: 77
Appearance: Wiry, wrinkly, pale. Kind of looks like a goblin. Full head of hair. Eyepatch. 
Favoured Weapons: Rifle, shank, fists. All three at once.
Talents: Ace shot with a rifle, or for that matter any kind of gun. Stabbin' shit. Complaining.
Persona: Hates young people, old people, middle aged people. Likes himself and stabbin' shit. Very energetic when he feels like it.

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## GestaltAlteration

*Character Name:* Jack Heflin
*Gender:* Male
*Age:* 26
*Appearance:* 5'9"; Hair is black but shaved off. Average build--neither too scrawny nor too muscular. Caucasian. Green eyes and a rounded jaw.
*Favoured Weapons:* Rifle or pistol.
*Talents:* Decent at medical practice. High stamina and speed.
*Persona:* Meek with periods of determination and strong will. Intelligent but lacking in any combat experience. Once Jack gets to know a person he can be very personable. Has perhaps an unrealistic view on the good of mankind and holds a desire to help people.

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## Siиdяed

Atta kids. Five is a good number of characters to start with. So we'll call that the initial round-up.

Not that this should stop anyone wanting to join from posting a character sheet, mind. I could always do with having back-ups around.

Will write up a Prelude shortly to set the scene and get the writing juices going, then write up a Chapter One for you to react to. Hang about, kids.

EDIT: A list of Dramatis Personae just up. These ought to be the principle character for awhile. Just to prove I have plotlines thought out.

To newer players, you don't need to start worrying about responding or do anything until Chapter One. And I'll make it very clear when you need to start playing. The dramatis personae, the prelude...these are just warm-up setting-setters I usually run through before the game begins, as such. You can read or pay no heed, is up to you.

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## no-Name

fuck yeah Kiza and GA

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## Siиdяed

Kiza and GA are pleasing additions.



Prelude almost written. And so the cycle of demand and false promises for work on my part begins.

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## Siиdяed

Prelude is done. Got distracted and wanted to put up _something_, so failed to squeeze in all the ideas I wanted.

Will force them on the coming first chapter, which signals the beginning of you kids playing along.

Oh. And.





> I've come to terms that I will join under the condition that this giant golden dome is included somewhere







> "...you'd see the golden dome from here if you looked-"

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## GestaltAlteration

> Prelude is done. Got distracted and wanted to put up _something_, so failed to squeeze in all the ideas I wanted.
> 
> Will force them on the coming first chapter, which signals the beginning of you kids playing along.
> 
> Oh. And.



Teehee. ^______^

But seriously dome or death.

Edit:

Read now. Good writing as usual. Love it (especially the dome part).

Oh and I chanced on this before and must say it's most epic. Brings back the memory of when I made you slave over Dominion's doomed third chapter and then took the next train out to fairyland. Sorry about that. ;.;

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## Grod

I _guess_ I'll play. One more ride 'round this train. If accepting characters for future chapters and such and stuff like that and yeah.

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## Siиdяed

Sure am.

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## nina

Ooo nice start.  :smiley:

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## no-Name

.join

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## Grod

*Character Name*: Paul Garcia
*Gender*: Male
*Age*: 20
*Appearance*: 6'; dark, heavy eyes. Athletic. Soccer kind of build. Clean, good looking, dark skin from Venezuelan origin. Near shaven head (a trend I see)
*Favoured Weapons*: Pistols or melee weapons.
*Talents*: Fast, smart with numbers and math and such. Good at kicking balls into goals.
*Persona*: Grew up. But not anywhere particular. Maybe didn't grow up. Arrogant and confident personality from good genetics.

yeah yeah yeah.

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## Siиdяed

> Grew up in a rich part of California.



Damnit you know better than to force your backgrounds on me.

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## Grod

Curses. It's been a while. Fixed.

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## Siиdяed

Well that's just aces, kiddo. Just. Aces.

Fire alarms woke me up 04:30am. All irritated and awake now. _Plastic Beach_ pumping out. Goddamn I might write Chapter One now. And kill all you fuckers off. Yeah. Goddamn.



*STAND-BY FOR CHAPTER*

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## Zezarict

What the hell, I need things to do in my LD's

*Character Name:* Daichi Cypher
*Gender:* Male
*Age:* 23
*Appearance:* Slightly taller than average, medium length black hair, (about long enough to go in your mouth...) bright orange eyes with a agile build
*Favoured Weapons:* Slashing Knives and a Handgun
*Talents:* Very agile with quick reactions, can jump pretty high and is good shot with a handgun, and can get a target from a distance
*Persona:* Generally calm, gets upset when he sees his friend hurt, very kind and selfless, but usually keeps to himself.

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## Siиdяed

Hmmhmmhmm.

Base structure of the first chapter written out, but I still need to sort out player details and fill in a few blanks.

Anytime now. I might stretch it to seven players and put Daichi in it. There's feasibly room.

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## Siиdяed

In the midst of typing up the first chapter. Before I collapsed into sleep last night it seems I scribbled up an entirely new opening to it, as well as a whole fucking new plot line that deviates wildly from original plans. Oh well. Typing it up faithful to sleepy me.

What messes with my head is that I _hand-wrote_ all the [i] bits where I felt emphasis was needed. And often it wasn't. At all.

An entirely unrelated picture montage now that does not in any way reveal my sources for derivation.

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## Siиdяed

_BOOM_. Aaah.

Chapter One. Done. Yeah. I said I was doing it.

That was difficult. But next time it should be easier. Because I'll have you kids for inspiration. And I don't have to write out any more backstories for awhile.

No Daichi yet. Sorry. Realised how hard six players alone are.

Still. I liked that. It varied in quality wildly. As per the latter half is Godawful and the first half is simply awful. Effort levels.

Some nive varied backgrounds for all your characters, enjoy reading those through. They might contain details that affect you later on in the game, or they might not. Lord knows.

So, actions ought be in for next Saturday. But I'm not being too strict about it just yet.
Do do do do do do do do try talking to one another. Here in this thread or elsewhere.

If you don't communicate it'll end up being a fucking killfest for those keys. Or something. And that's not fun. Work together. Or scheme against each other. Something compliccccated, not mindless.

Atta kids. I'm done for now.

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## no-Name

Calmest and most civil among ye will earn your unbound wrists the quickest. 
No rush. We have plenty of time for introductions.

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## Kiza

I'm glad you've already managed to work in animal-fucking.

Oh, and I vote we all gang up on no-Name, because fuck no-Name, that's why.

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## no-Name

> Oh, and I vote we all gang up on no-Name, because fuck no-Name, that's why.



Are you sure you want to do that, kiddo?


okay so let's just settle this and let me unlock everyone, jesus

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## Irken

Good thing the guy with the keys wasn't a dick.

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## Siиdяed

The guy with the keys is a dick.

And fuck that guard too. Goddamn. Guards. Convicts hate them.

And that animal fucking was expertly done by a sadly missed expy with an incomplete name.

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## GestaltAlteration

Very good. Deliciously helpless. 

Actions coming soon-ish.

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## Grod

Guard uprising.

Who's with me?

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## Siиdяed

For the Records of the Empyrean Trading Company / Dated 18-- / From the Journals And Notations of Dean Caliban (Civilian Attache to the 71st Company Rifles, Formerly Journalist and Writer Of Fiction for The _Koon Canon_ Literary Magazine, Resident of City London, Posted In the Inner Station, Currently Presumed Dead or Missing)

The Works & Writings of Mr. Caliban are in NO WAY to Be Treated as Works of Fact or Actuality. Mr. Caliban is Known to Have Been A Heavy abuser of lithium AMONG OTHER SUBSTANCES FOUND AND CULTIVATED IN THE JUNGLE ENVIRON HE WAS POSTED IN and is also a Known Liberal Artist of Sedititous & Insalubrious Writings. HANDLE WITH CAUTION AND SKEPTICISM.

Annotations have been Made By Various Agents and Servicemen of the Company Throughout.


And The Jungle Was Greygreen All Around Me

Prose By Dean Caliban
Ive been here in this _greygreenblueyellowwildwild_ jungle fiftysixty days (dont know) and its closing in allthetime around me jungle come _crash crash crash_ and when I say to the soldiers (big men short men angry men sad men all in samesame clothes and samesame guns) they laugh big laugh and tell me you cant look at the jungle tootoo long or it _gets to you_ and maybe it has got to me because when I sleep Im still in this jungle but back home when I sleep I could go _anywhere_ but not here is all jungle jungle _jangala_ and Im sick of it. Sometimes when Im out with the patrols we see eyes and skins and bodies in the jungle hunting after us with long spears of snaggletoothed bone and rock and when we shoot _bang-bang_ theyre gone and its just us and the smoke _bang-bang_. Other times we find bodies with no skin that dont chase us dont run about us mocking us just hang hang hang hang hang with no skins at all REFERENCES TO THE SKINLESS CORPSES OF NATIVES FOUND IN THE TERRITORY AROUND THE INNER STATION ARE NOT TO BE SENSATIONALISED LIKE THIS and always always always we know the word the natives say about them but we never say it _when did I go_ so far from London-city I dont even remember. Yesterday or today I met a local man who was friendly as local men are to us and he told me in stuttery slow words about how one time others like us had come but they had gone too far into the jungle and suddenly they were part of the jungle too like it had always been and that that had happened to them and would happen to us too and that noone would go home _ever_ someday. I think hes right because I dont want to leave any more I just want to stay and look at the _ants_ the _ants_ that crawl everyplace and everyspace just crawl crawl crawl crawl a week back we found a new native site in a hole in the ground and ten men went in and no men came back out only _ants_ and noone else went in there. NO RECORD OF THIS APPEARED IN THE DAY TO DAY REPORTS FROM THE INNER STATION - PROBABLY A FICTION Theres five ironclads in the air four small one big and yet everyone say they going to go _crashland_ because nothing stays in the air for long here like the science of the place doesnt make the same sense as it does in our world and I wonder if maybe the science of the head is different here like the science of the gravity because here when you go into the jungle you stay in the jungle awake asleep awake asleep tripping mindless and floaty on crushed pills and powders and whatsoever hold you you are always always in the jungle and I cannot day dream any longer because all my day dreams are _in this jungle_ PHYSICIANS STATE SOMETHING SIMILAR IN MORE RECENT REPORTS OF SOLDIERS' WELLBEING - Mr. CALIBAN'S CASE SEEMS A LITTLE EXAGGERATED HOWEVER and Im tired tired tired. We are intruders and we will be swallowed whole our minds and bodies all wrapped in vines and bark and _ants_ and we will become as native as the dark skinned loping jaguarsnake people who run and hide and run and hide and cut us down in sneaksneak quick ambush in this jungle.

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## Siиdяed

Oh hey so I noticed I still have no actions.

You kids better not be the inactive ones in this game. That's entirely my job.

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## Carôusoul

> Oh hey so I noticed I still have no actions.
> 
> You kids better not be the inactive ones in this game. That's entirely my job.



hi

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## GestaltAlteration

> hi



Join or be gouged with a meat hook thx

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## GestaltAlteration

> Oh hey so I noticed I still have no actions.
> 
> You kids better not be the inactive ones in this game. That's entirely my job.



You gave us to the 20th and we're all procrastinators. Expect actions at 11:59pm on the 19th.

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## Irken

How about Sunday 1:00 am

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## Siиdяed

Irken is a good man, sending in actions.

And sending in actions that account for variables, too. Which is kingly.

As in:

If A happens, I attempt to shoot the fucker DEAD with my laser cannon.
But then again, if B happen, I attempt to talk him out of it with soothing words and camomille tea.

Which was actually Irken's actions, as it goes.

I'll tell you what there needs to be. MORE PLUNDERING THE WRECKAGE. Also MORE ACTIONS.

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## Xaqaria

> small but firm chest



Important info.

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## Siиdяed

> Important info.



_Crucial_ info.

Actions all looking good.

Will most probably put up chapter today. Unless anyone forgot to send actions. I might have missed someone on the checking thereof.

Eh. Decorating cake first. Manly as fuck.

EDIT: Just found Codex Seriaphianus. Fuck everything, I'll emerge in a few hours.

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## Kiza

Codex Seriaphianus?

More like _Codex Distractianus_

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## GestaltAlteration

*Chapter 2, please!*

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## Siиdяed

You know what goddamn I don't need this I got a train to catch tomorrow and I'm tired as hell so why don't you just wait another day or so please sorry for the delay. :[

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## nina

Meh, take your time Sinny. No worries. You're building anticipation.  ::D:

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## Siиdяed

Yes, I'm typing up the last sentence as we speak. I'll post then update pms all round. Isn't that just aces?

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## nina

linkin' logs!

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## Siиdяed

hurr hurr monsturr in the jungle.

This is like the test fight against a shit-tier enemy. You can work together on it or pussy out and run away like wife-killer Heflin.

I have no idea why I made up Wesley Deighton. Although now I have it'd be fun if he chartered a small sky-skiff to hunt down the Detective (or his encoded dossier) with a feverish tenacity bordering on the sociopathic. Sure be bad for anyone with his dossier.

Still. I wroted the second chapter. Things seem promising for the future of this game.

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## GestaltAlteration

> You can work together on it or pussy out and run away like wife-killer Heflin.



Psh! Here I wanted to be a benevolent medical man and you turned me into a monster.  :tongue2: 

Excellent writing and story. Must plot the move...

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## Siиdяed

For the Records of the Empyrean Trading Company / Dated 18-- / From the Journals And Notations of Dean Caliban (Civilian Attache to the 71st Company Rifles, Formerly Journalist and Writer Of Fiction for The _Koon Canon_ Literary Magazine, Resident of City London, Posted In the Inner Station, Currently Presumed Dead or Missing)

The Works & Writings of Mr. Caliban are in NO WAY to Be Treated as Works of Fact or Actuality. Mr. Caliban is Known to Have Been A Heavy abuser of lithium AMONG OTHER SUBSTANCES FOUND AND CULTIVATED IN THE JUNGLE ENVIRON HE WAS POSTED IN and is also a Known Liberal Artist of Sedititous & Insalubrious Writings. HANDLE WITH CAUTION AND SKEPTICISM.

Annotations have been Made By Various Agents and Servicemen of the Company Throughout.


RAG-TAG MAN

Prose By Dean Caliban
village in the jungle went out on patrol found village in the jungle men sweating hard as they stomp stomp stomp about in ratty-tatty boots all fall apart _should sew together sew sew sew_ we find village all empty then screaming and we trapped in for what could have been a forever while people go scream scream scream and skins come _off off off_ get sewn about bodies sewn about to each other like red fleshy crabs all confused and unhappy as they go floundering and bouncing about two three four people all sewn together with their skin all pulled off and they cant walk proper ly they just go skidd skidd skiddering and slooping and leaning like upturned beetles flailing and wailing and the noise the noise is too horrible to describe and we hide hide hide in a muddy sweaty crampy hut til everyone go away again and it is just this flailing wailing monsterous fleshy spider flap flapping about the place in the mud and the dirt and the chicken shit and i was sick all down my front and all the time i know its the skin-taker breath-stealer night-walker and his broody manicy wildy little childrens and i am sick some more til i throw up red like the poor pitiful skinless creation that is just looking with white white white balls and pin prick black dots i hate it and i want to go home but i _cant_. Mr. CALIBAN WAS AT NO STAGE HELD AGAINST HIS WILL WITH THE COMPANY AND OFFERS WERE REPEATEDLY MADE TO HAVE HIM SHIPPED TO THE HOME-WORLD AFTER HIS HEALTH DETERIORATION BECAME APPARENT

its a village were all the people are dead but not dead like shaky walky skins with skeletons that arent their own and i do not like this idea at all no no no no no because what walks and jerks about inside is not like mortal bone but something that sews with thick black cords or vines and this is how it makes itself look like a real person but it is not on the first month in the inner station some-thing like this came walky shaky jerky in and said he was my friend but he was not i pushed the forks in to his skin and tore apart the seams and it blew psss_s_sss_sssss_ssss_ss_sss like pig-skin burst all bad.

i miss my friend

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## Siиdяed

> Actions in for April 2nd, if you please. :]



Dohum. Is April 3rd now, true believers. And only no-Name and Irken have been good with their actions.

Why the rest of you not send actions? Why?

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## nina

Missy will send her actions today. Sorry guise.

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## nina

This should be interesting.  ::D:

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## Siиdяed

Grod, Kiza and GestaltAlteration all have yet to send in actions.

I'll wait til the 7th and then put up a chapter. If you three haven't sent actions in by then, I'll hazard a wild guess at what you'd do.

Inactivity on the _players'_ part really won't be what kills this game off.

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## Siиdяed

A STREET UNDER GREY MACHINATIONS


*Wesley Deighton, A Cellar Under London*

Flicking at a loose fold of a peeling weal in the crook of his nose, Wesley Deighton ran his stained fingers back and forth until the paper package came to shape. Licking and pinching closed, he fitted the roll-up to chapped lips and lit with a spluttering match-head between his nails.

Slow inhale. Hold. Slow exhale. The cigarette grounds him in the damp cellar under the Dantalion Institute of Theopneustic Glossolalia, fixes him in time and space with something bitter, smoky, and tangibly quotidian. And time and space in the deep dark of the blackened brick cellar were fast becoming things of debatable qualification.
Beyond the orange glow of the burning cigarette Deighton could see nothing of the cellar. He had conducted a warranted search in the daytime with the Institute's coolly indifferent caretaker and knew the measurements, proportions and inventory of the place ad verbatim. Iron ladder - early stages of rust visible, but still sturdy enough - leads down on the east wall from a wooden trapdoor in the central hall above. Each wall of brick, unusually darkened as though blasted by explosive or heavy industrial fumes. Cellar nine feet in height, nine feet across, and twelve feet long. Wooden crates near rotted, containing glass jars long smashed and emptied, save for the few in which long-dried insects appear to remain contained. Deighton suspected preserves in use. Someone preserving insects.

And nothing more. Which made it strange then that now the cellar seemed as gaping and as endless as a cavern as he stood in the darkness, smoking a quiet cigarette and waiting for the rumbling to begin again.

The shaking. The reason he had been assigned to stand in this lightless prison in the ground. A rumbling and a shaking and a roaring that rattled the cellar every night, from which howls and wails and all the curses of all the dead tongues could be heard. The reason the Institute's custodian had hired Deighton.
Wesley Deighton. Fresh faced at fifteen and trying to earn a living as a private investigator on the streets of a careless London city. He stood in an oversized tan jacket with a blunt billy-club tucked in a sling under his arm-pit.

The roaring started. Then the whistling then the shaking then the rumbling then the rattling and all the sounds of a furious hell shook the boy's lonely figure and extinguished his cigarette with a warm and laboured breath. Something wheezing and slavering and breathing hot stench over him.

He kept his balance, and slowly waited out the raging of the thing until the cellar went calm and still enough for him to relight his smoke. He shook the match to nothing and tossed it over one shoulder.
The bloated mess of an inverted blue-bottle fly flapped and flopped about in the darkness. It was all around him, unseen but _there_, tendrils and human-looking flesh and entrails all snaked and looped around him in all too tight loops, but all of it still a part of this hideous, monstrously sized wingless inverted blue-bottle.
A protruding tongue licked the back of his hair, raising his greasy blond strands and plastering them down. He took it with a brief shake of his head, as though irritated by a breeze.
_-Wesley Deighton...you know me not of now but of jungle-time ahead, where all is savagery and undergrowth and canopy...but you WILL know me...and you will HURT me...and I name you cursed for it. Cursed now and cursed for all time hence...let your ruin come before our appointed meet and I will be sated and happy...if not let your ruin come after, and I will be venged...I name you cursed to imprisonment in the skin-taker's world...no other death will please me for you...when you meet with the Wendigo you will suffer and you will fall...slowly...nothing other..._

The cellar calmed. Deighton waited awhile more, and climbed the iron ladder, throwing back the wooden trapdoor.

Nothing. The cellar had been empty. He had heard and seen nothing.

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## Kiza

Shit. Fuck. Sorry. Sending actions.

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## Siиdяed

You disappoint me, Kiza.

Sometimes I sit up late. Just worrying about my Whisky players. I try hard to please you. To make you smile. To make you laugh. To give you something of an escape, however brief or artificial, from the everyday monotony of your quotidian existences. To let you soar as the rebellious Missy Stream, or the wild and dangerous Arthur Radley. 

And this is how you repay me.

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## Grod

Waiting for a confirmation, if not actions tonight yeah.

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## Siиdяed

I'm being tardy. Busy time. Preparing to move back out to university living as the holidays draw to a close. Chapter ought to be written before Saturday and the move, though. Consider this a nice break.

Or a chance for Gestalt to send his actions in. Either or.

Or maybe a chance to check out Gaia's Folly. I heard it was like. Good. And maybe active.





Meanwhiles, tappity this ant and read some classy old horror. About ants. By H.G. Wells. I mean. Fuck, convinced already much?

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## GestaltAlteration

You'll never get my actions. NEVER!

_(Just flip a coin. I'll send them in next chapter. :x)_

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## Siиdяed

Coolio. I got distracted by the long haul back to uni. But it's a brisk early morning wake-up with a mild headache now and I feel like I can write anything.

Chapter on tha way, true believers.

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## nina

Hurray

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## Siиdяed

Sorry about this bout of inactivity on my part. The game certainly isn't dead.

Mostly that something came up uni-wise and is commandeering my attention and efforts.

Will be back on track. Soon.

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## GestaltAlteration

Take your time. It's finals time here.  ::?:

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## Siиdяed

Warming up. Break almost over.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN - ALAS FOR THE SPLENDOUR OF THE PRINCE! HOW THAT TIME HAS PASSED AWAY!


*Aaron Clark and Arthur Radley and Isaac D. Locke and Jack Heflin and Orlando d'Ariel and Missy Stream and Paul Garcia and Wesley Deighton and Huitzilopochtli, The Highest Peak of the Wide Wasteland at the Edge of all Worlds*

Arthur spat, his one hand clutched to his gaping stomach and the other to his rifle, forcing his weight down against it and pushing himself into an upright crouch. The acidic juices were burning his hand, now, and he felt bile slip slick and thick through his fingers.

"Not...not long left for me now, I guess," he paused to cough racously, his whole body shuddering as he choked up another mouthful of broken throat. Cartilage caught in his teeth. He swallowed it back, then spat.

He heard the sound of the others' footsteps on the glassy rock peak behind him, wavering, then joining his side.

"Not long left for any of us, old boy," Jack Heflin grinned, morosely. He lit the offered cigarette from Wesley Deighton, then smoked it in long, heavy drags. The cannon he lugged behind him on rope and wheels came to standstill, heavy and with dark, open maw.
"Looks like here's a good enough place to make a last stand as any," Missy Stream said, simply. The two gatling guns tucked under each arm weighed on the mass of hacked flesh about her neck but she braced her face fast against the pain. The grimace seemed almost a death-mask. Rigid and expressionless.
"I always knew it would come to us, a shitload of guns, and some dank dark horror from Below," Isaac shrugged. He spun the revolvers from holsters to hands, then cocked them. The sound echoed in the emptiness beyond them.
"I might just be some faggot guard, but we overcame our differences and came to see the inner beauty in all of us," Paul Garcia said. "and now I'm honoured to be stood here with all of you at the end of it all."
"We're not even player characters," Orlando d'Ariel and Wesley Deighton intoned, blank and devoid of life.

And beyond them all the great swarming mass of Huitzilopochtli raged and grew, the tendrils and tentacles and thick hairy spider legs and skeletal arms and ugly amputee stumps and gun-metal girders and fluidic shifting no-mass reaching out, spreading and enclosing about our intrepid heroes.

"To our deaths," they said. "and to his."

And with that, they began to charge, opening fire as they came.

And the highest peak of glassy rock at the edge of all worlds was filled with the sound and light of explosions and of bloodshed.

And then they became the monster.

_Battle not with monsters lest ye become a monster and if you gaze into the abyss the abyss gazes into you._

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## no-Name

goddommot sinderd

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## Siиdяed

Aaaah. Looks like there may be a break in the game 'til next month.

Have both a friend sleeping on my floor and exams. Not a good mix for writing role-playing goodness.

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## Siиdяed

Aaaah. Looks like there may be a break in the game 'til next month.

Have both a friend sleeping on my floor and exams. Not a good mix for writing role-playing goodness.

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## nina

booo...

this sack of coke is not gonna last

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## GestaltAlteration

Next Chapter, NAO!

I'll go save the goons and not be such a bastard regardless of my horrid past. :3

DO IT. 
(plx)

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## no-Name

Oh man guys I know how excited we are about this new chapter but I'm gonna be gone for a week, sorry
Gest is in charge of my actions until I get back

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