Utterly Mad
The Pit => Rec Room => Topic started by: Forrest on August 04, 2015, 09:42:56 pm
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Two weeks. It's been about two weeks since the world, as you knew it, ended. None of you are entirely sure what happened, exactly, the bus rolled up and soldiers hustled you inside before anyone really knew what was going on. Glimpses through the thick barred windows gave you a vague idea, however. The sky itself looked like it was tearing open; a massive storm of unfathomable proportions was building up as far as the eye could see, roiling with unstable energy akin to multicolored lightning. The bus was deathly quiet, and every armed escort aboard had a grim look on their face.
After a lengthy drive out of town, watching your world fall apart, the bus approached a sizable concrete building, resembling a warehouse. The block of a shelter lacked windows, and the doors were heavy steel objects inlaid with slots of bulletproof glass. You were ushered out of the vehicle, told to stay within the shelter until more military help arrived, and left there. It's been two weeks, and not a single soldier has been seen since. The refugee center, as you believe it's called, is enormous, but the food stores were somewhat under stocked. Despite the fact that only a handful of you arrived, you're already almost out. You haven't been outside since they dropped you off, but you have a sinking feeling that setting out into the new world is inevitable.
[u]sheet[/u]
[color=white]Name: (These two weeks have been quiet among the survivors. Names are likely the only things to have been shared.)
Appearance: (A general description, clothes not included.)
Profession: (No soldiers, sadly, they'd be off fighting the crazies falling from the sky.)
Clothes: (It's doubtful you'd be wearing anything like armor at the moment.)
Weapons/Tools: (No guns yet, guys. Most melee thangs are fine, 'long as it sorta makes sense.[/color]
[color=red]Negative Traits: (You can have as many positives as negatives. Try and make them things that could actually affect you.)[/color]
[color=limegreen]Positive Traits: (You can use any from Cata, but go crazy, make some up if you want. Minor bionics included, maybe a mutation or two if you can explain why your character has it.)[/color]
[color=white]Small Backstory:(Kinda optional. You can choose to reveal it through narrative if you so choose.)[/color]
Alrighty, here it is! SIMPLE. VERY, VERY SIMPLE. Trust me, it'll get a lot more detailed and entertaining in later updates, I'm just giving you a basic rundown of what's happening. Knowing all of us, we sorta all know what's happening anyways. Sheets being accepted tonight and tomorrow, guessing that's when the updates'll start up as well.
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sheet
Name: Virgo (These two weeks have been quiet among the survivors. Names are likely the only things to have been shared.)
Appearance: Rushed away from her work place at the Mall, she's still wearing her Dandy Dave's Smoothies uniform consisting of a green visor with the logo of a radical smoothie drinking a smoothie, a white button up shirt, black pants, and a green apron wrapped around her waist. The golden badge clipped to her apron read: Virgo - Manager. Her naturally straight hair is thick and tied into a bun that pokes out the back of her visor. Bags hang under her blue eyes and has a mopey posture and look about her body and face.
Profession: Fast Food Worker
Clothes: [Green Visor] [White Button Up] [Black Pants] [Green Apron]
Weapons/Tools: A pen
Negative Traits: [Depression] [Fearful] [Frail] [Medication Dependent (Anti-Depressants)]
Positive Traits: [Fleet Footed] [Light Step] [Pretty] [Good Memory]
Small Backstory: NARRATIVE ALL THE WAY
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sheet
Name: Ivan (These two weeks have been quiet among the survivors. Names are likely the only things to have been shared.)
Appearance: Blue eyes, brown hair, goatee(A general description, clothes not included.)
Profession: Thief(No soldiers, sadly, they'd be off fighting the crazies falling from the sky.)
Clothes: [black hoodie] [white short sleeve shirt] [blue jeans] [sneakers] [backpack] [prescription glasses](It's doubtful you'd be wearing anything like armor at the moment.)
Weapons/Tools: [Crowbar] [Lockpick] (No guns yet, guys. Most melee thangs are fine, 'long as it sorta makes sense.
Negative Traits: [near sighted](You can have as many positives as negatives. Try and make them things that could actually affect you.)
Positive Traits: [Sneaky] (You can use any from Cata, but go crazy, make some up if you want. Minor bionics included, maybe a mutation or two if you can explain why your character has it.)
Small Backstory:(Kinda optional. You can choose to reveal it through narrative if you so choose.)
((IDK about any traits in cata so...))
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sheet
Name: Aaron Vance
Appearance: He is a 6'4 man with black hair and grey eyes.
Profession: Architect
Clothes: White sneakers, blue jeans, a light-grey t-shirt, tinted prescription glasses, a leather belt, a small messenger bag, and a grey military jacket.
Weapons/Tools:
An old folding hunting knife: It was an old pass-me-down from his father.
Negative Traits: Short sighted
Positive Traits: Strong
Small Backstory: He was at home when the world as he knew it ended. (I plan on revealing more)
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All approved! I believe AJ, Tesla, Dusty, and Zaweri said they were also going to join, I'll wait a bit for them.
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i'll make a sheet tomorrow, smartphone sucks for RP.
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Fair enough!
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*CoughAJcough*
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Name: Riley
Appearance: Riley is a olive skinned girl with a smattering of freckles on her face. She's a little on the shorter side at 5'4", but she has a bit of muscle to make up for it. Her normally curly black hair is tied back in a bun.
Profession: Student
Clothes: [Hoodie] [Tank Top] [Jeans] [Skate Shoes]
Weapons/Tools: [Bike Tool Kit] [Lockpicks] [Pocket Knife] [Phone]
Negative Traits: [Foolhardy] [ADD as ****] [Mood Swings]
Positive Traits: [Bravery] [Brawler] [Sneaky]
Small Backstory: A seemingly average girl and local college student. Growing up was rough, but she managed. More details to come I guess?
kinda wip sheet because shiiieeeet i'm tired it's late and i need to go talk to people about college **** tomorrow
need another negative trait
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sheet
Name: Zaweri
Appearance: A man in his thirties, Zaweri appears slightly muscular. He has hazel eyes and his hair is dark brown.
Profession: Ex-military engineer, now a electrician.
Clothes: Trenchcoat, leather boots, jeans. (lost my damn hat)
Weapons/Tools: Integrated toolset, adamantium claws.
Negative Traits: Near-sighted, Far-sighted, Weak Stomach
Positive Traits: Adamantium Claws, Integrated Toolset (ex-military), Strong.
basic sheet
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Approved to Zaweri, and all that's needed is that negative trait, Dusty! Starting later today.
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Name: Dennis Gibbens
Appearance: Flowing blonde hair that flows like Thor's mighty locks when he drives his motorcycle, a rugged square face, and scruffy beard that should probably be shaved off because it clashes with everything else. With a set of straight, narrow, yellow teeth that could only belong to a meth junkie like him. His eyes are blue, but who really cares, not like anyone gives a fuck what these faceless characters look like. Its all about personality and shit.
Profession: Unemployed
Clothes: Leather jacket with his crew emblem sewn on the back, a wallaby with fangs dripping with inky-black venom. He has ripped up, acid-wash jeans, leather biker boots with chains that could probably impale the thickest of skin. With a pair of leather brown biking gloves that look like they've seen several generations of use. And a black v-neck t-shirt underneath his getup.
Weapons/Tools: A chain, with a meat hook on the end. Deadly? Yes. Impractical? Yes. Scary as fuck? Yes, defiantly on that one.
Negative Traits: [Meth Addict] [Carefree] [Bullheaded (doesn't think before rushing headlong into shit)] [Not a furfan (not a big fan of muties)]
Positive Traits: [Professional Propane Chef] [Motorcyclist] [Fishermang (get it? Because of his weapon?)] [Optimistic (some would say foolishly so)]
Small Backstory: He was always a simple man, after somehow graduating from highschool he had one goal in mind, ride his grandfather's Triumph Bonneville all over the country. From East to West, and then back East again. Using what money he inherited after his father passed to get by. Shortly after leaving his hometown of Sumtor, South Carolina he joined up with a gang originally from Australia. When the Cataclysm hit we was on a ride North to transport a package of the new "product" to another gang. Now with his crew most likely dead and him currently smoking the "product", his only chance at living in this new world is probably with you guys.
[[Didn't know what to write, I want to participate. I've had a recent fascination with motorcylces, decided to do something akin to what The Grifter did only I won't be mind bogglingly useless.]]
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Wooooo! Approved!
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(Soon?)
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(Typing it up now!)
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Everyone
It has been two weeks since you were rounded up and sent to this shelter, and, obviously, it's dawned on you all that those soldiers aren't coming back. While you can't be completely sure why, it's probably safe to assume the worst. Also worrying, however, is the fact that this place was designed for, at your best guesses, two hundred people, and its food stores are almost completely exhausted, despite there only being six of you. Either the government thought they wouldn't actually have to use this building, or Ted from storage was god-awful at math. Either way, you're all unsure of your next course of action; it'd probably be best to stick together, but nobody's quite sure what the world outside that sealed door is like.....
The Shelter Itself
The refugee center you're situated in is enormous. The entrance room is a large lobby up front, complete with two office cubicles, most likely for receptionists or secretaries. Nothing of interest is here, unless you want a potted plant or now-useless telephone. Behind this is a massive commons room, with high a high ceiling and multiple doors, containing rows upon rows of military-style cots and footlockers, six of which you all occupy at night. Two doors on either side lead to the storage rooms, which used to contain your meager food stores, now only home to rows of empty crates. Finally, the door at the opposite end of the commons room from the lobby, a large steel object, has been sealed since you arrived. It's emblazoned with the word ARMORY, and there's a slot for a keycard in the middle.
Points of Interest
-Radio: A large radio, with the markings of the U.S. Army. So far, you've checked all the channels, either getting static or useless automated emergency banter. Perhaps more could be heard at a later date?
-Lockers: There's a row of lockers on one side of the commons room, covered with padlocks. This means they may have been used to store the belongings of soldiers, if you could get inside.....
Entrance: The big door that keeps you safe from the outside. It's at least ten feet tall, and retracts into the wall when a button inside the front cubicle is pressed. You may have to exit soon to search for something to eat.
(Quick intro thing!)
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Ivan smiled to himself and walked towards one of the lockers. "Let's see what's in here shall we." He said as he began picking the lock of one of the padlocks.
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The last couple of days felt surreal despite Virgo living through every waking moment of it. She lacked sleep and comfort after being stripped away from her work and family, and though she didn't make many friends on the job nor was her family all that close to her, she still couldn't believe that was all behind now. That all that she had worked for and thought was important was no longer such.
Virgo felt sick the whole ride to the shelter and had little signs of lightening up. She wasn't hungry nor did she feel like she could stomach anything down, but she new she had to eat something eventually. That'd be a matter she'd settle later. At the moment she was absorbed by lethargy and merely wanted to sit alone after the long, silent bus ride. Ivan, whose name she learned on the trip, made his focus to the lockers while Virgo went to one of the empty cubicles, removed her green visor, untied her bun letting the hair flop down to her shoulders, and put her hands over her eyes. This couldn't be happening.
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Dennis awoke with a jolt, he immediately reached for his non-existent 22. pistol that he usually keeps tucked into his coat pocket. He felt so... naked without it, like not finding your dog sleeping quietly at your feet or having your ID be missing, well the latter is kinda per-usual for him. Flipping his feet over the cot, running his fingers through his flowing blonde locks to push stray strands of hair behind his ears. Around him were surroundings as equally if not more depressing than how he's feeling this morning.
Honestly, if he didn't wake up here he would've thought the Armageddon outside was just his drug-addled mind creating the purple swirling skies, and causing the violent quaking beneath his feet. But alas someone was feeling kind enough to drag his unconscious body off his motorcycle to safety. He watched as the two other survivors passed by, paying no mind to him, but to the lockers that stood tall in the corner of the building. "Anyone manage to get a lick of sleep last night? I think it's these cots, my back feels as straight as plywood." Dennis cracks his back as he stretches from his cot. Slowly he marches over to the door, cracking one open he peeks out.
Early morning, skies aren't swirling purple like a fucked up Slurpee, but are the usual hazy morning-dew blue the normally are in the East Coast.
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Ivan
[Rolled 17]
The padlock gives little resistance, opening with a satisfying click. You swing the thin metal door open, examining the contents within. A camouflage military jacket is hung up on a small hook within the locker, two large, zippered pockets dominating its front side. Looking down, you see two glass bottles on the floor of the container. Beer, presumably. Against regulations, maybe, but it's the apocalypse, nobody cares now.
Virgo
You retire to one of the cubicles in the front, letting your hair loose and pulling your visor off. How could this be happening? Everyone you know is probably dead, you're in a concrete building with a bunch of strangers and no food.....things are looking grim, to say the least. Before you put your hands over your eyes, a cursory glance at the cubicle reveals a standard metal desk, upon which sits an old-fashioned computer terminal.
Dennis
Your back is, indeed, sore as hell. Your trusty pistol, normally at your bedside, was confiscated by the soldiers for some unknown reason. You make your way to the front lobby, where Virgo currently seems to be on the verge of another little anxiety attack, before surveying the land outside the big door. You can't actually open the huge thing without pressing the button in the main cubicle, but you can see out the reinforced glass in the center of the steel object. The sky is blue, but something's....off. You can't put your finger on it, but it doesn't feel right. Off in the distance, down the lonely road, you can see the outline of a city. Brickton, or something, you believe.
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After pushing on the door to no avail, he kicks it in frustration with the loud metallic bang echoing loudly in the lofty ceiling. "Feck. Right, anyone know how to open this? I mean it could be that bright red button over in the cubicle, but normally bright, candy-red buttons normally do bad things. I mean this one time-", Dennis then proceeds to go on a long, rambly story about how he and his buddy
Keith Jim Slimm pressed a red button in this old bunker and it caused some new fangled police bots to awaken; you catch the end of the story though. "-as it turns out it was actually the basement of the local sheriff station, and not an actual military bunker. Needless to say, TruthRainbow was disappointed when we came back with the news."
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Virgo stared into darkness letting the balls of her palm rest on her eyes. She could hear people off and about doing things with here time, and here she was self loathing. She felt mildly pitiful, but mildly didn't care enough to have strong feelings about it or anything happening. Boredom does strike, however, and she eventually moved her hand and stared at something other than darkness. She stared at the tan keyboard. Without really thinking about it her hand fell from under her cheek and pressed on the space bar.
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Dennis
You kick the door, leaving your foot as sore as your back, before going into a methed-up biker-monologue about your past adventures, from when Old Bubba told you and Jim Slimm about the bunker, then Big Bixby tried to stop you from getting in and that crazy shootout you were too high to participate in happened and those damn robots chased you and Jim all the way back to the compound. Good times, good times.
Virgo
Boredom and curiosity tell you to approach the old thing, and you oblige them. Clicking the space bar with your finger, you're treated to a five-second, ancient startup sound before the terminal's dark green light bathes the cubicle. Text pops up on the screen soon after.
>Emergency Procedures
>Secondary Armory Control [Administrator Required]
>Log off
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Zaweri stands up as he had woken up a couple of hours before. He reaches for his trusty hat to no avail. He approaches Virgo on the computer.
"I could try to hack that, if you want me to." He says as he stretches his fingers.
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Virgo's eyes hovered over 'Emergency Procedures' and felt some despair come from her mind as she processed the implication that emergencies could happen. Her pinkie crawled over and hit the down arrow. The words highlighted lime green. Perhaps there was something hopeful in there. Her thumb hit enter and winced as new words came onto the screen.
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Dennis, foot sore and back sore looks around at the other people quietly going around the shelter, opening lockers and hacking terminals like robots... or hollowed out shells of people. "Jesus. What is wrong with you guys, one moment you're crying about how terrible everything is, and now you're touching everything like a 5 year old on pixiestix. Why not get a plan together, shit." He then heads over back to his cot, pulls out a cigarette, and then lies down smoking in his cot.
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"Shut up, dummy. We are trying to get out of here.
Zaweri resists punching Dennis.
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Aaron heads to one of the unoccupied cots, he sits down and takes out his hunting knife out and starts inspecting it. It has a wooden grip with a brass emblem of a bear on it, the blade is pretty sharp with a serrated edge on the blunt end of the blade. He puts it away and starts to lay down. "Have you tried going through that door over there?" he says, pointing to the large door. "There's a button near the entrance." Aaron gets up and heads to the front cubicles, "Must be somewhere here..." he says looking in and around the cubicles.
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Ivan gave a short chuckle at what Dennis said then replied "Hey, I'm just doing my job here. Besides we're gonna need supplies and these might hold something useful."
Ivan slipped a beer into his pack and then went to work on the next padlock.
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Zaweri shrugs at the fact that his assistance is ignored, goes to one of the lockers, and tries to use his integrated toolset to pick the lock.
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"Hm... There it is!" Aaron says, he makes a mental note of the button then heads back out. "Found the button to the huge door, if we want to head out lemme know. I seem to be the only one with some sorta bag on them."
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Zaweri
Virgo appears to be accessing some unlocked information at the moment, you could take a crack at the [Administrator Required] bit when she's done. However, you then divert your attention to the lockers, attempting to open one up. [Rolled 3]
Disappointingly, the lock doesn't wanna budge. Sucks.
Dennis
Wow, this sh*t really is f*cked. You try and relax on your cot, puffing on one of your few remaining smokes. It's hand-rolled, and mostly filler herb and cheap tobacco, but it helps you relax a bit. (+1 morale bonus to rolls for a few hours because Cataclysm)
Ivan
You pocket one of the beers, smiling to yourself and going to work on another lock. [Rolled 15]
Another click, and you're in! The locker swings open, revealing......a plastic canteen, a stack of Playboys, and a sock. You're not sure you want anything in here.
Virgo
You click on the Emergency Procedure button, equal parts hope and despair. Perhaps it would hold answers, give you all an idea of what's come? The old terminal whirrs as it processes your action, before the new text appears on the screen.
>WARNING. STANDARD EMERGENCY PROCEDURES OBSOLETE. U.S. GOVERNMENT PROTOCOL DOES NOT APPLY. PLEASE AWAIT FURTHER ORDERS BY ARMY PERSONNEL. THANK YOU.
.....Well sh*t. What the hell was going on out there?
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Ivan took the canteen, opened it and sniffed the contents, if it smelled okay he'd put it in his pack, if not he'd leave it there. He then went to another locker "On a roll here. hopefully there's some more useful stuff in the next one."
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"So what are you guys even planning on doing once you get out of here?", he sits up knocking some of the spent cigarette off, it dissolving into a pile of ash onto the pristine floor. "I mean its good to have some form of basic goal besides survive. Like me, I'm going to find out where my motorcycle went. It most likely got jacked in the chaos, but there's always that chance of finding it again. I remember carving my initials into the paint, right on the dash just below the speedometer." Taking another drag of his cigarette, blowing out the vaporized
nicotine tobacco through his nose. "But what about you guys, any of you dudes have family or something you're looking for?"
He then heads over to the locker Ivan just canteen-looted and picks up a playboy. Unfolding the centerfold girl. "Some of the pages are stuck together... nah just fucking with you, guess this was emergency wank fuel before doomsday. I'll just stick that in my back pocket, you'd be surprised what people would give for one of these. Especially now with no internet.", rolling one of the "cleaner" issues up and sticking it into his pocket.
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Zaweri shakes his head at Dennis's statement.
"We may want them if we want to make a campfire to cook food on, grab whatever you can.
Zaweri picks up some of them.
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He looks over to Zaweri, "I can sense that we'll become great friends." He then steps away from the Zaweri claimed locker, and back towards the un-Zaweri'd cubicle and inspects what's on the desk. Like any buttons that could get him out of here, and get the plot train moving along at a steady pace.
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Zaweri sighs as he haves another go at the locker.
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[[^ dis guy, having a good time right here.]]
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A figure lying down in one of the cots shifts and mumbles something before yawning loudly and sitting up. She looks around the room with bleary eyes and frowns.
"Y'all are so loud, god damn," Riley mutters, sliding off of her cot and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She takes a long look around the room and furrows her brow. "What're you even doing?"
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Aaron says "They're looking for the way out, even though I already did."
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(Wilson, you are not the GM.)
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(Well he did find the button like a while ago, I'm not making it hard, leaving's not a problem, being outside is :P)
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((In one of the updates it literally said the button is in front enterence cubicles.
a button inside the front cubicle is pressed.
See?))
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"Eh, fück this fücking lock."
Zaweri takes out his torch arm of the Integrated Toolset and melts the lock off.
(I can already see it happening, Zaweri as the main character and Dennis as the dumb sidekick Zaweri is continuously disappointed in.)
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[[Who got horrendously mutilated and made you the main character. Everyone knows that the stack of Playboys is the true hero of the main story, with their titties going to sacrafice themselves at the end to save the group.]]
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Virgo sighed. "Whatever." She said at the screen before shutting down the bright monitor. Then, she rest her head on the table to sleep. Everything was so exhausting at the moment.
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Ivan
The canteen is empty so you go ahead and pocket it as well. Zaweri is currently situated at the last locker, so that's it for now.
Dennis
You concoct a genius plan to venture out into the wastes and use Playboys as currency. Basically that one time with Uncle and Scooter back in Montana.......but with less alligators, and you doubt there'll be as many prostitutes. Maybe. And Wilson already found the buttons. You and Zaweri gotta read :P
Zaweri
After brazenly thinking yourself the main character of some kind of story, or dare I say, forum roleplay concocted by a bunch of teenagers, you whip a blowtorch from out of your arm and begin melting the lock off. Rolled 2 [Oh dear....]
Only for the torch to malfunction and work much better (?) than expected. You melt the lock, and the door mechanism, and part of the door, fusing it to the locker. Damn.
Virgo
What was that supposed to mean? Ugh. Screw this. You place your head down for now, trying to blot out all the confusing and ugly thoughts.
Everyone
You're getting a bit hungry, and now that you think about it, you've probably only got a few hours of day light left.
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[[Eh reading and writing is for nerds who want to actually know whats going on.]]
Dennis leaves, walking in some random direction that will generate excitement or fun. He personally finds these people to be buzz kills.
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Virgo's stomache growled as her head laid against the cool surface of the desk but just the thought of food felt nauseating. She could maybe do with an apple or something light, though it sounded unappealing. Food was required to live, however. But... she wouldn't get up just yet. Give it a few minutes. Who knew, maybe someone would bring food to her.
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Aaron gets up from his cot, he says "I'd like to have everyone to situate themselves to where I am at the moment, I'd like to have a small meeting with everyone, learn everyone's names. Except that dude who just left..."
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Ivan walks over to Aaron and says "Okay, well my name is Ivan, may as well get that out of the way."
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"My name's Aaron, I see that you can get into those lockers pretty well. You'll be helpful in looking for supplies, I'm planning on setting up a exploration trips to find supplies like food and water." Aaron says, "That man over there seems like he could be good muscle. Kicking down doors 'n shit." he says while pointing to Zaweri. Aaron gestures for Zaweri to come here.
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"Okay. Beats being here... I guess."
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Virgo falls asleep on an empty stomach.
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Zaweri kicks the lock portion of the locker door that he accidentally welded. (Shouldnt be too tight, didn't prevent oxygen from entering the weld.)
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After that dude over there's done kicking in the locker we're gonna go head out.
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Riley grumbled something and stood up from her cot, eying Aaron. "Who made you the head of this joint?" she asked, reaching under her bunk to grab her hoodie. She pulled it on and shuffled over to the door, peeking outside.
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Ivan looked over and said "When he started actually figuring out what to do. All I had planned was getting into those lockers, and that's done."
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Aaron looks over to Riley, "I don't think I'm the head of the joint here. I mean I'm not trying to the leader, I just want to get some food for us. Oh by the way I'm Aaron, You?" Aaron says.
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Dennis
You take it upon yourself to get something of a head start, pressing the button and awaiting the opening of the door. After a good thirty seconds of steel rumbling, the mammoth thing retracts up into the ceiling, permitting exit. You hastily make your way outta the shelter, starting along the road....
Virgo
You keep your head down on the table, trying to rest up. You know you have to eat eventually, but hope someone will bring you food. Semi-unrealistic, seeing as how the food stores are exhausted and they'd sorta have to march to town and back specifically to feed you, but hey, a girl can dream.
Aaron
You try and organize everyone as best as you can, roles, plans, ideas, all that crap. Hopefully it works.
Zaweri
You kick the locker like effing Leonidas, causing the door to crumple inwards and fall from its hinges. All for.....an empty locker. Damn.
Riley
You put the sass on Aaron, pull on your jacket, and walk over to the door as Dennis walks out. Before you is a completely flat, green landscape.....weird, it hasn't changed all that much. Bushes, trees here and there, with the outline of the town in the far distance. Perhaps it wasn't all that bad after all?
Quick thing.