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| 26 Jan 2013 07:09 PM |
Typical pleasant valley Sunday morning. You don't know when it started because you were too caught up in whatever you were doing to check the time on your phone. TV in the next room was saying something about military action and men in suits talking over triviality like it normally was.
In downtown, people were craning their necks skyward to see something that dropped from the sky like an angel kicked from clouds.
Side-conversations and mutters constituted of thoughts on whether or not it was a bird. The fact that it was made by man was confirmed when the ones in the crowd with eagle eyes saw maneuvering fins wobbling as it neared the tallest building in the commercial district. Half a mile up in the sky, it doesn't make a sound.
Inexplicably bright light turns the blue sky into a whitewash. People in apartments who closed their curtains thinking it was the sun shining through would spend the next 5 seconds wondering how they ended up on the other side of their room as the walls crumbled around them.
The fireball glowed hot enough as to make anyone in the direct vicinity of the city square to be dead to a man without having time to scream. 2 and a half seconds later, the shockwave crumbled the nearest skyscrapers or blew them out like paper boxes.
High-rises were stripped of glass and office cubicle walls flew out as projectiles. City avenue trees burnt out as easily as toothpicks a few miles away.
By the time dust settled, half a million people's ashes were scattered in the air and downtown was reduced to skeletons and fallen billboards. Fallout particles started to fall like snow as to render the whole city inaccessible to emergency response for days.
Those that did survive would wake up hours after most of the fallout waves subsided, either sandwiched between 2 pieces of drywall lucky enough to come into contact, buried under a small cavern just below the surface for air or other chance occurrences. Half of those who managed to live through the first day would spend the next month waiting for outside aid or waiting to die.
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BBITS is a typical "after the end" role-play where you are a survivor that digs him/herself out of the rubble of an indeterminate city to survive indefinitely till help arrives.
Gameplay is mostly centered around survival instinct. Food, water, treating radiation sickness are all major components. Some people choose to be loners out of cynicism, others join with others for the strength in numbers mentality.
Since apocalypse role-plays are part of the standard fare here, I don't really need to explain all that much. Ubiquitous RP rules still apply here though you can send a PM if you want to clarify anything.
By the way, if you want to be a rescuer/army aid you'll also have to send a PM due to it not being part of the main role-play component until in the late-game
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Name: @ge: Gender: Appearance: Clothing: General personality: Items (If any, no weapons yet): Bio (Mandatory; Preferably 2 paragraphs): Where he/she was when it happened: Other: |
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abuca222
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| Joined: 10 Jul 2010 |
| Total Posts: 7526 |
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| 26 Jan 2013 07:17 PM |
Name: Leon Gravin @ge: 36 Gender: Male Appearance: 6"2, 190 pounds, blue eyes, brown hair. Clothing: Blue jeans, and a polo shirt, sneakers General personality: Kind, not usually scared except very few certain things. Items (If any, no weapons yet): Pen, notebook. Bio (Mandatory; Preferably 2 paragraphs): Leon grew up in germany. In germany his mom died and he was raised by his dad with his 2 brothers. He often went hunting, but stopped when he moved to america.
In america he became a office worker at a not so fancy bank. He has no family in america. He also went to college in america. He studied math.He just heard that his farther died and was going to go to his burial in germany that his brother arranged, a week after the missle fell.
Where he/she was when it happened: In a bank, in a cubicle. Other: None |
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| 26 Jan 2013 07:19 PM |
(Accepted:
You can start whenever you want, I'll control what events happen until we have enough people to sustain a thread that can operate on its own) |
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abuca222
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| Joined: 10 Jul 2010 |
| Total Posts: 7526 |
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| 26 Jan 2013 07:20 PM |
| I tap away at my computer. "I needed that finished a hour ago!" I hear my boss yell. "jerk" I mutter under my breath. |
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| 26 Jan 2013 07:22 PM |
(Hold on, the RP starts after the explosion
You're probably buried just a few meters below the surface, assuming that you are in an office and were not too close to the epicenter) |
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| 26 Jan 2013 07:35 PM |
| (And I'll just bump this as if anyone on the board cared) |
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| 26 Jan 2013 07:37 PM |
Name: Scott Smith @ge: 29 Gender: Male Appearance: 6'5", Brown hair, Green Eyes. Short hair.Very strong. Clothing: Jeans with a Black belt, T-shirt. Blue brewers sweatshirt with hood. Nike sneakers General personality: Friendly and Charming Items (If any, no weapons yet): Swiss Arm Knife, iPhone Bio (Mandatory; Preferably 2 paragraphs): I am a Former Marine living about 90 minuets away from the city. I knew right away what was going on. I hopped in my Chevy Volt and drove away only grabbing My uniform (Because it was in my Car). Since I lived alone at the time it was easy to get up and leave. I Tried to get a hold of my Former Commander at Pendeltin. Since I got no answer I started my way down there. Where he/she was when it happened: Suburb of the City Other: I will Be a army personnel, but I will have to get there somehow.
Also can we Presume this is like the US? Like the attack was in New York?
Tomahawk chop is my death blow |
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| 26 Jan 2013 07:45 PM |
| (US, definitely, though I didn't want to make it too specific and more of a generic city like in an action movie) |
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| 26 Jan 2013 07:47 PM |
(Okay. Could there be a real base but in an undisclosed location. Like Pendleton?)
Tomahawk chop is my death blow |
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TNTJack
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| Joined: 10 Mar 2009 |
| Total Posts: 2681 |
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| 26 Jan 2013 08:42 PM |
Name: Marat @ge: 40 Gender: Male Appearance: Wearing various rags,soaked in (Sewage?),with a bowler hat. Gray hair from all the dust covers his long,infested hair and beard. Pants are a pair of cargo pants found off a dead guy. No shoes,only thick socks. Clothing: Soakened sweatshirt and dirty long shirt under it,Dirty cargo pants(Black),gray thick socks,and a gray bowler hat. General personality:Gentle,humble and street wise. Items (If any, no weapons yet):Half eaten Sandwhich,lighter. Bio (Mandatory; Preferably 2 paragraphs):A police officer from Northern Ireland, he went to america to escape tbankrupt with no ID, resorted to begging. He since then lived on the streets(And sewers).
Marat, being his name on the streets, was actully rummaging through a construction sight around a manhole for diner when he stumbled on something. Someone heard it and came to investigate, he quickly went down a manhole. That someone was a construction worker who then moved a barrel right on the manhole cover. He then went stumbling around the Sewers for a exit. Where he/she was when it happened: Stuck in a sewer after he went down a open manhole. Other:Very resourceful. Example:You see a dead body, Marat sees cloth protection and a campfire. A rat, food or a way to countless meals. |
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| 30 Jan 2013 09:08 PM |
(Bump)
Tomahawk chop is my death blow |
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