Core

[Northen Wolf]

Glad to hear it (assuming this actually gets enough players to start. I haven't got as many responses as I expected, by this point, but we'll see how that goes).

I would disagree. This is AFAIK your first NES. My first (also mostly roleplaying NES) had 8 players on turn 1. You have same. Many of my players were also from mostly one NES (ImmacuNES, that rules BTW!), whom I had played together before. Unless I'm mistaken, you have those who don't know you aboard. I'd say you're doing pretty well and expect some more players to join on turn 1 or 2. I'd also expect that players need nudging (did you send orders) on-around turn 3 and turn 4, then it goes pretty simply for 3 turns and then more than half forget to send orders again, again a post in their personal page is enough usually.

 

[Optical]

lurker's comment: Very intersting. I won't join for now, but I might later when (if?) I get more free time.

 

[Terrance888]

I would disagree. This is AFAIK your first NES. My first (also mostly roleplaying NES) had 8 players on turn 1. You have same. Many of my players were also from mostly one NES (ImmacuNES, that rules BTW!), whom I had played together before. Unless I'm mistaken, you have those who don't know you aboard. I'd say you're doing pretty well and expect some more players to join on turn 1 or 2. I'd also expect that players need nudging (did you send orders) on-around turn 3 and turn 4, then it goes pretty simply for 3 turns and then more than half forget to send orders again, again a post in their personal page is enough usually.

Half the battle is knowing how to work your players without annoying them.

This seems very interesting, I would like to see your update style.

 

[Nuka-sama]

I'm definitely going to join this, will post character soon

 

[CivOasis]

Ah, alright. As soon as everyone who's expressed interest makes a character, I can start this.

Actually, if you have a character already, you can go ahead and post your orders. These equate more or less to whatever you want to do, so long as it defies neither established canon, CFC rules, or the known laws of physics.

If you wish to interact with the environment, or a NPC, I will step in and fill in the missing details. That will not be considered an update. Updates will be done roughly daily, as permitted, and will summarize both player events, as well as anything else relevant occuring in the city, and will likely all contain RP similar to Update 0's, which will offer influence towards characters following certain events. Not that you have to, ignoring those hints will carry no penalty.

EDIT: Much thanks to BirdJaguar and Camikaze for resolving my foolishness with the OPs, the description of the city is now up with the rest of the rules/intro/mechanics.

 

[KaiserElectric]

Finally, a character RP!

Definitely want in, working on a character.

 

[KaiserElectric]

Character: Lorenzo Valmont

Physical Appearance: Average build, though a lot tougher than he looks. He has short, dirty blonde hair, dark eyes and pale skin. His outfit changes constantly, but he always wears a bloodstained duster coat when he works. He's able to blend in to a crowd quite well, but his disinterested demeanor can become frightening when he's set on his task.

Job: Contract Killer

Backstory: A document recovered from an orphanage deep in the slums of Core makes a passing reference to a boy there with "dangerously psychopathic tendencies". Whatever else the document contained was lost when the building burned to the ground years ago. Everything else about Lorenzo's past is a mystery, even to Lorenzo himself. What is known about him, however, is that when someone needs to turn up dead, the Intruder is the best name for the job. After a few freelance jobs to get a name for himself, the Mafia started hiring out contracts to the elusive killer. His work ensures that he lives as well as he could in the Core, carrying all his possessions in an old suitcase borrowed from one of his earlier victims. Despite having an adequate amount of money due to his work, he often takes what he needs from his victims. When food becomes scarce, ugly rumors surface claiming that the Intruder sometimes takes more than the possessions of his victims. It's impossible to say anything certain about Valmont or his line of work. The only thing certain is that when the Intruder receives a contract, the job will be done, one way or another.

Lorenzo also likes to experiment with killing his victims, changing his style to avoid detection by the police or other unsavory characters. His preferred tool of the trade is a serrated hunting knife, but anything will do when he's feeling creative.

 

[JohannaK]

Name, gender, age: Raimundo Bolívar Ybarra, aka “Ray”. Male, 19 years old.
Physical description: 6ft tall, 164lb, slightly tanned skin, black hair, green eyes. Wears an old shirt which used to be his father's, the same with the trousers, and he wears also prescription glasses he looted, as well as sandals that were hidden somewhere in Saint Mary's church to be donated.
Job: Unemployed

Backstory: The only child of professors Ernesto Ybarra and Inés Bolívar, teachers at the University of Core. Both born and raised in Core, Inés from a very Catholic devout family, her father became a priest after his wife died; Ernesto’s parents were fishermen, and he could very difficultly make his way through the educational system, earning several scholarships along his life that allowed him to graduate in Chemistry Engineering. Not long before the World descended into its very own Maelstrom, Ernesto, 36 at the moment, and Inés, 27, married. Soon after, she was accepted in the University as History teacher. Ernesto taught several subjects in engineering careers: basic chemistry and physics.

When the world ran out of fuel and Core began to grow more and more crowded, and defences were built and walls erected, Raimundo was born. After a few years, gangs override all authorities and reigned supreme on the city for some time before the authorities could reorganise and Mafias could define their zones of influence.

Raimundo’s family had converted some offices in the University into inhabitable dependencies, so that little Raimundo and the children of teachers wouldn’t be alone and away. But the gangs raided the University every now and then. Their knowledge deemed useless with the final enclosure of the city and the lacks of materials and energy, the staff of the University made it their new common home, and a guardian of knowledge. But there was little they could do before several gangs installed in different faculties and constantly pillaged and raided the inhabited zones, eventually kidnapping or murdering most of the staff, and raping the women among them.

When Raimundo was 10, they fled to Saint Mary’s Church, an ancient monastery near an old suburb, in a zone controlled by the mighty Colombian Mafia, whose devout local chieftain protected the church. In it, they requested asylum to Luís Bolívar, the priest, sister of Inés and uncle of the boy, who fostered them. Ernesto and Inés took several books and some equipment from the University, and Raimundo had what in these days is a high-upper-class education, with wide knowledge of physics and chemistry, and basic electrotechnics (how to make electric circuits and build electric apparatus such as generators, only extremely basic in this case, and only applied to fixing circuits).

When Raimundo hit the 16, her mother went out for some special and very rare ingredients; she wanted to make a cake for Ray’s birthday. She never came back. A week later, the kidnappers demanded an astronomic sum of money they couldn’t afford, and three days later her body was found slaughtered, dismembered. Her legs and uterus had been cut and didn’t appear until some dogs found it and partially ate it, two days later in an industrial waste container. Her chest and face had also been mutilated in ways to horrible to describe.

Both findings were made in a zone controlled by a Philippine gang under the influence of an Asian Mafia. Ray wants revenge now, and he won’t stop until he gets it. He has no job, but will soon approach his Colombian protectors. (So my character is a wise young man who wants to see his mother’s killer dead. Period.)

 

[erez87]

Character: Kim Shaviv

Description: Kim is a small thin boy, about 6 years old. He has short black hair, dark brown eyes, but his eyebrows have some blond hairs in them. Kim is very agile and flexible, and seems to be very very smart. Kim wears brown run down clothes and always carries a small knife in one of his shoes.

Job: He's a 6 year old!

Backstory: Not so long ago Kim was born to his parents, both born in core as well. His grandparents arrived at core very long ago from Israel and USA in order to work in the city's university as researchers. The reason for his grandparent's death is unknown to him, but he knows his parents were killed by some people who broke into the house to steal anything of value.

Kim's parents taught him several languages spoken in Core as well as anything they knew themselves from their own parent's education. They were on the way to become university researchers as well before they were killed and usually shared with their son everything they knew. Unlike their own parents, they knew Kim will need some skills to survive and so gave him many lessons in agility and flexibility from a teacher and by themselves. They died in front of his eyes several months ago.

Since he is alone Kim has been living by stealing and stealth, using the fact he is 6 to get away from most trouble. His intelligence also proven to be a very important asset as he can plan great schemes to get around surviving in the city. Lately Kim has been following people who seem to have some power for others fear them, perhaps some criminal organization, his plans are to find his parent's killers.

 

[Celticfury]

Character: Nikolas Zabas

Physical Appearance: Nikolas is 25 years old, stands 5'10'' tall, and weighs 153 lbs. He has messy, dark brown hair, and an olive skin tone. Nicholas is in slightly above average shape.

Job: Salvor/Diver

Backstory: Nikolas Zabas was born the son of Dimitrios and Catherine Zabas, both first generation natives to the city of Core. When the marine salvage company that his parents both worked for collapsed, the Zabas family was forced to move into the slums. Once there, his parents hopped from job to job, in an attempt to provide for Nikolas and his two younger siblings.

When Nikolas was 14, his mother died of pneumonia, leaving his father to care for Nicholas, his 6 year old sister Sofia, and his 3 year old brother Patrick. Dimitrios thus moved in with his brother, Mikhael, who proposed that Dimitrios join him in working for the Russian Mafia. Desperate for any type of income, Dimitrios accepted, took a job as a diver for the Russian Mafia, routinely entering the harbor to collect whatever hardware he could find for his new bosses. Young Nikolas was thus left with the task of taking care of his siblings, which he worked at zealously. When his father has any free time, he would teach Nikolas the fundamentals of diving, hoping that his son would be able to join him when his siblings matured.

Unfortunately, things rarely go smoothly in the fractured city. Five years after first joining the Mafia, Dimitrios's life was cut short by a stray bullet during a shootout that also claimed the life of his brother Mikhael. Almost immediately, life for the now grown Nikolas unraveled. The neighborhood were what was left of the Zabas family resided had become a warzone, and without Mafia protection, Nikolas was forced to flee with his siblings. They eventually settled in a run down warehouse near the harbor. From there, Nikolas took up his father's profession, diving deep into the harbor to collect whatever he could find. However, unlike his father, Nikolas has sworn never to get involved with the various gangs in Core, instead trading items directly to the farmers and few specialists that live in the slums.


OOC: If I need to change anything, just let me know.

 

[KaiserElectric]

Marco woke up dazed, battered, and very disoriented. There was a strong scent of rotting fish and salt water. Opening his eyes, he realized he was hanging upside down, suspended by his ankles.

“Morning, starshine,” said an unremarkable voice on his left.

Marco turned to look at the speaker. A man was sitting on the edge of the pier there, eating a wrinkled old apple with a bemused expression on his pale face. Teasing his dirty blonde hair, he stowed the half-eaten apple in a long duster coat. Marco tried not to notice the ominous red stains covering the coat. Marco realized that his shirt was taken, and spotted the stranger wearing it. He tried to protest, but the man shot him a dark glance which silenced him.

“You should be proud,” the stranger said with a slight grin. “This is a new experience for the both of us.”

He gestured towards Marco’s ankles, which were entwined and weighted with heavy chains.

“I’ve never tried drowning before,” the man said with the air of a child learning a new skateboarding trick. “I’ve shot people, stabbed them, beat their skulls in, thrown them out of buildings, thrown them down sewers.”

His casual manner was startling. Marco tried to look away, but the man got up and drew a nasty looking serrated knife from inside the duster coat. Leaning in close, he pressed the knife firmly against Marco’s cheek as he spoke.

“You know what was really fun?” the man said, still in that odd conversational tone. “I once butchered some Columbian stooge alive and sent the meat to his boss. I told them it was steak. Puts me in stiches every time.”

The man slid the knife off his face, taking care to leave a small cut on Marco’s cheek. “Drowning is new though. A little impersonal, but nothing I can’t handle. Should be nice and clean too. They’ll probably find you in Florida within the week. Send me a postcard when you get there, alright?”

The man strode over to the sturdy post that the rope holding Marco, going to work on the rope with the knife. Marco found his voice as the rope began to give way.

“No!”

The man paused. Lowering the knife cautiously, he looked at Marco with a curious expression.

“Why…why are you…?”

“I have a few reasons to do what I do,” the man said nonchalantly, returning to the task of sawing away at the rope. “Personal vendettas need fulfilling, mobsters want someone to vanish, I need a new pair of shoes…”

The Intruder paused for a millisecond to give the man a courteous nod.

“This is for fun.”

The rope broke with a snap as Marco plunged into the water. Lorenzo stood there watching the bubbles rise to the surface. When they stopped, Lorenzo removed the duster coat and retrieved his suitcase from behind a storage shed. Methodically, he stowed the coat in the case and snapped the aged latches shut. Almost on cue, the contact stepped onto the dock, taking his place next to Lorenzo.

“You’re late,” Lorenzo said innocently, shifting the suitcase between his hands.

“Ran into some street punks looking for trouble,” the contact apologized. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“Nice day, don’t you think?” Lorenzo asked, glancing towards the rising sun.

“Uh, sure,” the contact said with a confused expression on his face.

“Quite,” Lorenzo said lightly. He took out the wrinkled apple and took another bite. “So, who do you want taken care of?”

Spoiler :

For curiosities sake, what’s the state of the rest of the world? Are there still functioning governments outside of Core, or are we the only humans left?

 

[Seon]

Character Name: Name? My name? Oh what was it again... you can call me... Lindsey Funke! Not my real name, of course, but my name was too boring, so I abandoned it.

Physical Appearence: I always wear a suit! Not my own, it was owned by a shapeshifter before, except he shapeshifted into a dead guy and didn't need it anymore. It fit, so why not keep it! Oh, and that dapper hat... was it called a fedora? Yeah, some suited people speaking in weird accent had that, so I stole it from him. Well, technically I killed him first, so it wasn't really stealing as much as robbing.

Oh wait, maybe you are talking about actual physical appearences! When was the last time I looked into a mirror... Hmm... well I'm a brunnette, if you haven't noticed that yet. People say that I kind of look fat, but these are actually muscles, I tell yah. Just kind of hidden by the suit. I punched out people cold before, so I can back that up.

Well technically speaking I happened to have been wearing retractable blades I made out of desk drawer parts when I "punched out" people, but hey! If brass knuckles are considered punching, hidden knives are punching too.

By the way, does this suit makes my breast look smaller?

Job: I do some odd jobs here and then for the kicks, working at those strip clubs and whatnot. Most of the time I get fired for being creepy. I like stalking people though. And killing people.

Backstory: Blah blah blah dead parents blah blah blah shun by other children blah blah blah raped by other children at age... oh.. was it 10 or 13? I don't care about these stuff, why should I devote my limited brainpower on unimportant stuff like that? Hell, I don't even remember my age anymore! I stopped counting.

Some people, mostly priests or police-man or social workers, keep telling me that it's important and I should allow them to help me, but nah. The world is HELL ANYWAYS, WHY THE **** SHOULD I CARE.

Anyways... what else can I remember... from the fact that I know how to make explosives from commonly found materials, mix chemicals and play poker, I guess I got considerable amount of education somewhere. Maybe I lived with a chemist.

Oh, and killing people. I've been doing that a lot. It's like an art to me, and like most things, I do it well. I carry more knives in my personal being than you can put bullets in to a Desert Eagle for crying out loud! A few in my sleeves, few in my pockets, few in my shoes, and few in my "secret compartments" *snicker*.

And guns. I ripped a few from a mob dealer. That sucka never knew what hit'em. Took all his goods, traded a few for food and whatnot, kept the rest and modified them all for my own likings. They are scattered throughout my home in the secret compartments I built meself.

Think they are still looking for that "sicko," though they never found me.

I like building and modifying things. It's cool. Heh, even some Police-men and the Mob come to get their stuff fixed now and then. Where do you think I get all these bullets from? They pay me in bullets.

 

[Radio Noer]

Geoffrey knew his job would be difficult and that it would often lead him to situations his clients wouldn't like. His clients don't care about his security, they want answers and they know Geoffrey is one of the best. Every day it seemed that Geoffrey would get requests for Is my son still alive? or Is my husband sleeping around with other women? At this thought, Geoffrey snickered, Why would you care, here in Core? What is your husband but a bodyguard you happen to tolerate? In any case, Geoffrey took only a select few jobs because or the nature of Core. Without technology, Georfrey stalked his mark, getting very close, relentlessly seeking the truth. This policy lead to occasional fight, but Geoffrey had learned to hold his own in a fight by now.

Today Geoffrey was investigating a woman's plea: Please, can you find my husband? I haven't seen him for days. Geoffrey steadfastly followed every lead. He found that it was naturally leading him to the slums, like most of his jobs. However, this was one of he worst parts of the slums, he asked around and it seemed as though the husband was here before, about two days ago. Geoffrey wandered around a bit more, carefully asking questions. One seedy character told him that the husband was taken into a house down the block. Geoffrey went there and peeked in the window.

Inside there was a man, tied up in a chair, matching the description of the husband. In front of him was a large man in a wrinkled suit, though fine by Core standards. The man in the suit seemed angry and pulled out a gun. Now Geoffrey's suspicions were confirmed, the man in the suit was part of the Russian Mob. With this information, he left the scene quietly, knowing the husband was as good as dead.

 

[JohannaK]

For curiosities sake, what’s the state of the rest of the world? Are there still functioning governments outside of Core, or are we the only humans left?

The intro says it's where the last remnants of mankind live...

 

[Seon]

But from the opening story it is suggested that some strange power is keeping the people trapped in the city: there are rumors of ships circling around Core.


Anyways my Serial Killer with guns should make life easier for many people soon.

 

[JohannaK]

Hummm... yes, it is quite... disturbing, this sicko of yours...

 

[JohannaK]

Ray decided it was about time to do something. First of all, he needed several pieces of strong, resistant wood. And some pieces of metal, but that was secondary.

At 9 o’clock he left Saint Mary and headed towards the docks. The wreckage left there from old ships would surely contain enough material to work. He preferred the city’s dump, under Colombian control, but its proximity to the slums meant that most usable parts were taken by the inhabitants of the neighbourhood to furnish or fix their houses. But now he had to venture into the Russian’s territory.

He had memorised the way from Saint Mary to the docks and a dozen variants from an old map of the city. He was wearing the most miserable and torn apart clothes he could find, and literally bathed in waste to look even more unimportant. He liked acting, and had rehearsed for some time now a way to look younger and more childish, so no one noticed him as he arrived to the limit of the docks. Luckily, the fence was rusty and some parts of it were missing. He took a pair of scissors he had deformed with a rock and cut some of the fence with what used to be the handle, which he had sharpened, handling it with the blades, which he had nearly destroyed. Soon he had in front of him a hole big enough for him to go through, and entered the shipyards.

He was looking for the logs that were used to hold the small boats that needed reparation above the ground after they were lifted by the crane. There were still many boats out of the water, although only five were still standing on the logs, and around fifteen other boats lay on the floor, the logs rotten or unbalanced. Only few boats, yachts is a better word to describe them, in the harbour were in a good condition, and they were all owned by mobsters. The yachts’ engines and energy collectors (solar cells, air generators) were nearly the only source of power left in the city. But Ray was looking for a warehouse or something of that nature. There were still some people around, because there was one ship they were putting back in the water, but only three people were there: the owner, the crane operator, and some random guy, presumably working there.

There were several hangars Ray couldn’t miss, but what caught his attention was a small closet without doors. He could see the logs inside from where he was. They were all too big, he couldn’t drag them back home, so he drag them inside the nearest fallen ship, 40 feet long, rolling the log as the three men finally left the boat floating on the oily waters and the three of them jumped in: there was no more work to do in the shipyards and nothing of any interest at all was left.

But Ray had found something worth his interest. As he crawled in the wrecked ship, his eyes were already looking for some sort of tool. His “handmade” pliers were not enough, and he hadn’t thought that the log would actually weight so much. He went back in the closet and found a set of rusty tools, including a small saw. He brought it into the boat and started to cut.

He immediately stopped and looked at his watch, which had been his mother’s. It was 11 o’clock: time to go back. He checked no one was outside and run for the hole in the fence. Then he went back to Saint Mary, arriving at a quarter to 12. Ray washed the waste and dust off him the better he could and readied to help his uncle in the 12 o’clock mass.

 

[Seon]

Hummm... yes, it is quite... disturbing, this sicko of yours...

Let's make your character and mine be best friends.

I promise I won't hurt you. Or lead you into an ambush. Or kill your sister.

Really.

 

[JohannaK]

I promise I won't hurt you. Or lead you into an ambush. Or kill your sister.

No sisters to kill

 

[Seon]

Your future Sister in Law then.