Recesity
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| Joined: 09 Oct 2010 |
| Total Posts: 15626 |
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| 06 Mar 2013 05:28 PM |
(Who just had a crackpot surge of creativity? Recesity just had crackpot surge of creativity!)
I woke from the gloom of a long, unplanned rest, filled with curiosity but afraid to receive ans...Answers...
This is a dark room.
...Well, so much for poetics.
A quick survey around me tells me that is, indeed, a very dark, cold, and unnecessarily large room with a pod in the middle and a large screen on the wall. A quick survey of myself tells me that, thankfully, I'm still wearing my black engineer's robe, which while no longer useful in differentiating me from those unknowledgeable of technology, at least provides some resistance to the cold and dampness of the room.
You see, few people are gifted with technology, but advancement in technology is valued and knowledge of it is honorable; you can tell someone's class most easily by how skilled they are in technology. Therefore, those who show signs of skill in it are raised as engineers. While we do spend a lot of time fixing things, we're really inventors and innovators.
Though you'd think that being good with machines wouldn't help in this particular situation, I've had my own invention that these people left on me. I've developed, and even once presented to the Royal Court, the Royal Construction Pack: essentially a metallic half-oval attached to my back which contains a set of sharp, spider-like, metal legs which can extend to three times my height and, of course, retract, based on the adrenaline level of the user. The legs come out through small slits in the RCP (I had to stick "Royal" on in order for it to be manufactured for widespread use) that also open or close depending on adrenaline. Not that I got any credit for it as anything beyond "an engineer invented this", but that's the case with everything, including the freezing pod in the middle of the room.
Freezing pod.
This can't possibly end well.
The screen blinks.
"G..." There's some static and some background chatter, the screen turns off, and finally, it turns back on with some coherent speech.
"Gausalow Rasah, is it? Do trust us, we have good intentions."
"Prove it," I say.
"Are you alive?"
After a few moments of silence, the voice continues.
"Get in the pod."
"Why?"
"It'll be explained later. Though if you really must know, you have an 87% chance of going to a dystopian society 1000 years in the future, where your mission will be explained to you, and a 13% chance that we'll stop a corrupt government from taking over behind the scenes and neither you nor any of us will know what to do with you. You're going to either take that chance or we're going to let you die and find someone else."
"And you can't just free me if I don't want to do this?" I say. "In case you haven't noticed, things die! If I outlast everything I know until no trace of my society exists, then I won't want to work for you in 1000 years to stop some corrupt government or...Whatever the hell you were just talking about!"
"Do you think your current life is more important than the fate of humanity?"
"If humanity manages to get in a state so bad that someone from 1000 years ago needs to fix it, maybe it deserved to get there in the first place."
"You're an engineer! You don't have a family or your own home or any value in money! This is your chance to begin anew. To make a name for yourself."
"And you're giving me this fine opportunity by kidnapping me and throwing me around time like a kitten with a ball of yarn?"
An audible sigh emits from the screen. "Yes. Are you satisfied? Now either get in the pod or don't; this conversation does not need to go further."
That's it, then. Get in the pod or don't. This is certainly a situation.
Dying alone in a dark, cold, and unnecessarily large bunker has never been a very appealing thought to me. I suppose that there are worse things I can do than follow the screen's orders. Maybe a chance of revenge will arise. So I may as well. Then again, I'd be leaving everything behind. Though I'm leaving everything behind whether I get in or not.
It takes a few moments of silence and a grumbling of my stomach to make me hesitantly, reluctantly get in the pod. I'm blasted with cold and the pod closes, sealing me in.
(Well, I know this is either pretty good or everyone is wondering why I'm not sharing, but I'm continuing either way because I spent too much time thinking of this to just let it die.) |
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Recesity
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| Joined: 09 Oct 2010 |
| Total Posts: 15626 |
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| 06 Mar 2013 05:37 PM |
| (I'm going to bump for opinions.) |
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fathat121
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| Joined: 26 Dec 2009 |
| Total Posts: 1926 |
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| 06 Mar 2013 05:48 PM |
| There are small grammar mistakes, but they're probably not noticeable to the general audience. Overall, this is a well written piece of work. |
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Recesity
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| Joined: 09 Oct 2010 |
| Total Posts: 15626 |
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| 06 Mar 2013 05:49 PM |
| (I type quickly. I revise when I can, but sometimes I can't. Though now that I know somebody actually read this, I'm going to get working on the second chapter.) |
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Baboo92
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| Joined: 17 Oct 2011 |
| Total Posts: 970 |
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| 06 Mar 2013 05:55 PM |
| If you ever make this into an rp, I will be a happy man. |
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Cryptonic
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| Joined: 21 Sep 2012 |
| Total Posts: 3126 |
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| 06 Mar 2013 05:57 PM |
| Nope you dont. Nothing |
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Recesity
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| Joined: 09 Oct 2010 |
| Total Posts: 15626 |
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| 06 Mar 2013 06:30 PM |
Chapter 2
Funny. That didn't seem like 1000 years at all. In fact, it felt like I just closed my eyes and something forced them open. Was there an error of some sort? It's hard to tell given the sealed pod and my inability to look outside of it.
It's certainly still cold. It's wet. The only real difference is that now, the space is unnecessarily small.
Seeing as how I'm still half asleep, it takes me a few seconds after considering all this to realize that the pod is rocking back and forth. Either I'm going to die or it really has been 1000 years.
Is that...Is that whistling? How come this thing is designed so that I can hear the outside world, but not see it? I suppose there would be no real difference given the conditions of the bunker. I hear some small beeps, as if someone is entering a code, and the cold air slowly leaves the pod.
"Rise and shine, old man. It's your 1,025th birthday."
Have they really been planning this for a full thousand years!?
The voice sounds old, yet firm and strong, and certainly male. After he helps me out of the pod, I can tell that his appearance matches. A sudden burst of anger surges through my veins and with a quick translation from anger to frustration and frustration to adrenaline, I find myself towering over the man on eight sharp, steel legs.
"You..." I say through gritted teeth. "You'd better have an explanation, or I'm going to take that beard of yours and strangle you with it!"
The man simply chuckles. "Me? You think I planned this? Come on, now, I'm not that old. You were put here 1000 years ago by the now-ancient organization that I belong to right when we started to decline. They figured that you'd be angry enough to spark a rebellion in the likely event that the world was taken by a corrupt government, of which they were correct about."
The metallic legs retract slightly, but not completely. "What, that the world would be taken over or that I'd spark a rebellion?"
"Both, by the looks of it. I'd assume that you have a lot of questions. Give me a list now and, if you work for us, I will answer them one by one. Here, I brought a quill, some ink, and a sheet of paper. I'll even give you a free answer right now if you'll go back to being shorter than me."
After a brief pause, the legs retract and I take the quill, ink, and paper, using the pod as a makeshift desk to write my questions on.
"Why the primitive writing tools? Do you not have a pen?"
"A pen?"
"Yes. A pen."
"...I suppose you should know. See, our fair government deleted evidence of an awful lot of history, including the technology."
"Why?"
"There's something else to add onto the list."
After about 20 more seconds of writing, I hand the list to the man.
"Right then. Number one...Reasonable..." He mutters under his breath as he reads through the list. "Alright," he says more loudly and clearly, "here's your free one. My name is Theodore Rasputin, and I work with The Insane, which would be the group that froze you and sent you here in the first place. I'm trusted with missions that don't require subtlety. I'm very good at fighting, you see. More bar brawls than you can count."
He seems to notice that I'm looking at a stub where his left thumb used to be.
"Difficult life," he says. "Let's see...Lost the thumb at age 8 when my father first tried to teach me to use a sword while drunk. As in, both teach while drunk, and teach me to effectively fight when drunk. Got shot in the stomach by a flintlock when I was 13 during a pirate raid; needed to stay in bed for 3 months. Got framed for thievery when I was 19, which got me all tied up and thrown into a river to nearly drown before someone proved me innocent at the last minute, and people still think I did it to add insult to injury. Since I was still young and stupid at 24, I tried to join a pirate crew, and they all circled around and beat me until I couldn't speak for 13 days as initiation. Pirate career ended when I was abandoned on a small, deserted island at 30, in which I was unable to find anything to eat or drink for a week before I was rescued. At 35...Well, I suppose the short version is that my life has just been full exciting adventures. Follow me. We need to find out how you're going to help us."
I leave the bunker with more questions than when I first woke up in it. |
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Recesity
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| Joined: 09 Oct 2010 |
| Total Posts: 15626 |
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| 06 Mar 2013 06:30 PM |
| (I'm not sure how good it would be as an RP. I've got it set up as a story.) |
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snakehunt
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| Joined: 22 Jun 2009 |
| Total Posts: 34463 |
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| 06 Mar 2013 06:40 PM |
| I would be pretty pissed too if someone awoke me after closing my eyes for a second for sleep. |
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Recesity
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| Joined: 09 Oct 2010 |
| Total Posts: 15626 |
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| 06 Mar 2013 06:43 PM |
| (Those damn commies and their constant need to share waking hours!) |
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snakehunt
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| Joined: 22 Jun 2009 |
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Recesity
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| Joined: 09 Oct 2010 |
| Total Posts: 15626 |
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| 06 Mar 2013 06:45 PM |
(AMERICA DOESN'T EXIST IN THIS STORY
I FEEL EXTREME SHAME) |
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snakehunt
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| Joined: 22 Jun 2009 |
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| 06 Mar 2013 06:47 PM |
IT TECHNICALLY DOES.
THAT MAN CHARACTER WILL NOW REPRESENT AMERICA AND ITS GREATNESS. OCE HE FINDS A MATE, AMERICA WILL BEGIN....ANEW. |
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snakehunt
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| Joined: 22 Jun 2009 |
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Recesity
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| Joined: 09 Oct 2010 |
| Total Posts: 15626 |
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| 06 Mar 2013 06:51 PM |
(but the main character is a loner)
(he doesn't get a mate) |
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snakehunt
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| Joined: 22 Jun 2009 |
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| 06 Mar 2013 07:03 PM |
| THEN AMERICA IS DOOMED, YOU TRAITOR. |
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Recesity
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| Joined: 09 Oct 2010 |
| Total Posts: 15626 |
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| 06 Mar 2013 07:07 PM |
(Anyway, let's stop derailing the thread so that people aren't afraid to come onto this thread and give feedback.)
Chapter 3
"Hm..." After a long pause and a look of concentration, Theodore speaks. "You've got a frame small enough to be agile, no offense. You've got a temper and likely some skill in combat to be threatening me. You've got both a weapon and a way to outrun most people on your back...I'd say you'd be a decent assassin."
"Assassin!?" I pipe up quickly. "If you needed an assassin, why kidnap an engineer?"
"I don't know, I'd assume that you asked that question a thousand years ago. I don't know the answer. I do know, however, that the best way you can aid is to kill for us. I've already got a target in mind, if you don't mind starting small."
"Now wait a minute, I never-"
"His name is Jonathon Red. He's got a seat of power in the council and has been showing signs that his mind is slipping. He is the most immediate threat, if not a long term one. His last name is more of a nickname, given to him for his red eyes, red hair, and slightly red skin. Descended from a native, you see. Not too hard for you."
"I've never killed a person!"
"Now's a good time to start. You're the only one who is completely anonymous now. Most of us are tracked at birth with a chip in the brain. The government felt it necessary to keep any technology they could use to oppress their citizens."
"But-"
"I have an envelope with a list of locations that he commonly goes to. You're going to help us or you're not. If you don't, then where will you go?"
I stop and think for a moment. I open my mouth to speak, but quickly close it. I take the envelope and open it to read the contents. It seems this Jonathon is usually in public places. This will take planning. Well, or not, given that I'd like to deal with this as quickly as I can.
(Short, I know, but I'm taking a break.) |
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Recesity
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| Joined: 09 Oct 2010 |
| Total Posts: 15626 |
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Recesity
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| Joined: 09 Oct 2010 |
| Total Posts: 15626 |
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fathat121
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| Joined: 26 Dec 2009 |
| Total Posts: 1926 |
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| 07 Mar 2013 07:04 AM |
| Agreed, in roleplay it is harder to control plot, and some things can not be included. |
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Recesity
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| Joined: 09 Oct 2010 |
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| 07 Mar 2013 04:11 PM |
Rest of Chapter 3
I could never sneak.
Not when I was 12, when I tried to sneak into the office of the Headmaster of Technology.
Not when I was 18, when I tried to sneak into a brewery.
Not when I was 24, when I tried to sneak out of an Engineer's Meeting. Though that one happened a thousand years and a week ago.
And I can not sneak now, so if I'm killing someone, it looks like it will have to be quick and public. That means I can send a message. I don't know what message to send, but I know that once this Jonathon Red dies, the results should leave me plenty of opportunities to send messages and generally cause fear and chaos. I'm not a hero, after all. Just an engineer, a half-rebel, and soon, a murderer. If I even manage to survive longer than a few days, I may as well get revenge against whatever government created this pathetic excuse for society, and that includes taking their minds before their lives.
But I'll need to find Jonathon Red first.
The envelope tells me a variety of places he goes throughout the day. This list includes the docks, which just has all sorts of ways to kill someone. I know where I'll assassinate him and when I'll assassinate him, and given my lack of ability to sneak therefore making a plan useless in the first place, I'll figure out how to kill him later. A mix between adrenaline, a set of metallic spider legs, and far less care for whether I live or not will likely substantially improve my combat abilities. At 10:00 at night, I'll be at the docks. Two hours is plenty of time.
Carefully following the map included with the envelope to the docks, I notice that something seems to be missing in these streets. Something such as human life. Lots of corpses, but nothing alive can be found. It seems that there is a curfew now.
A gunshot roars from down the street.
Slowly, men appear from the shadows of the alleyways and what's left of the doors to their homes, carrying knives, swords, and flintlocks. There's some yelling about how gang number one is better than gang number two, a few threats, some yelling, more gunshots, death, and more gunshots. When the numbers diminish to about 7 left, it seems that gang number one really was better than gang number two. I suppose that explains all the corpses.
One of them notices me and, frowning, says something to the other idiots about witnesses. "He can't just be a civilian! Otherwise, he wouldn't be out after curfew!" "He doesn't have a sword, a rifle, or a flintlock. He's not in a gang. He's not a pirate. He's not working for the government. So what is he-"
As I take a step closer, one of them panics and tries to fire at me. A misfire, but the threat of danger still surprises me, causing me to sprout the metallic legs and tower 11 feet over them, my hands balled up into fists.
Naturally, the gang members are speechless. The shooter drops his gun. Another one runs away. I take a few steps closer with legs until I tower over them, staring down at the poor souls.
"Get out." I say lowly and harshly, extending both words a bit.
The five members left take no hesitation in scurrying away, allowing me to continue on my merry way to the docks.
I suppose the RCP can work well for intimidation, seeing as how nobody has seen someone sprout eight gigantic, metal legs from their back before now. I suppose using it for construction is out of the question now, though. |
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Recesity
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| Joined: 09 Oct 2010 |
| Total Posts: 15626 |
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| 07 Mar 2013 04:41 PM |
(guis)
(do u hav opinion on stori)
(brain hurt)
(making next chapter later) |
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Recesity
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| Joined: 09 Oct 2010 |
| Total Posts: 15626 |
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| 07 Mar 2013 05:23 PM |
(feedback plz)
(praise me)
(PRAISE ME) |
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snakehunt
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| Joined: 22 Jun 2009 |
| Total Posts: 34463 |
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| 07 Mar 2013 05:24 PM |
| ("DO NOT DECLARE YOUR SELF, THE LORD"- Juan 123 |
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