The year- 2067. Humanity has been conquered by the Union, a spacefaring collection of races that has now subjugated the population to untold hardships. The people are used to mine resources, off and on world, and produce goods for the Union. City's are the only settlements, as the 'countryside' as it was once know has be blasted, reduced to rolling expanses of black, scorched earth and rock. In recent years, wildlife and plants have begun to retake this blasted hellscape, but slowly. The common citizen has never seen this terrible expanse save from the window of a train or on a tv. They are fenced in like lambs, kept in the cities and mines and industrial centres, working for their life. Those that cannot are either supported by other citizens or die. Children are the one thing the Union encourage other than hard work, wishing to expand the population. The cities are built on the remnants of the cities that came before it, all converted into a lattice work of ugly urban housing. Daylight struggles to reach the lowest streets, and drop ships constantly orbit above. Throughout cities, Population Pacification Centres are scattered, ready to release alien and human troops upon unruly or rioting populations, thus striking fear into citizens. Some humans have thrown their lot in with the invader, and indeed, earth is ruled via a human President, albeit a puppet. Police teams are human, supplemented with occasional aliens and crack down in force on any unrest they find, coordinated by Administration teams in each city. In this hellish future, there is a glimmer of hope. Whispers of resistance snake through the streets and slums, people begin to listen. They begin to resist. They are outgunned and few, but they are the only hope for a free earth, free from slavery, oppression and the dominion of the Union.
You are a common citizen, struggling to survive in City Kappa, previously known as London. It is a sprawling metropolis, stretching miles and housing millions. This is the beginning of your story, will you fight the Union or join them? Will you help your common man or take all he has? Will you be the figure head your city needs, or will you become the Governor it hates? The choice is yours.
Joining- Really easy honestly. Just your name, age, brief history, general description, your inventory (keeps it fairly simple) and where you start.
N.B- If you want to paay as a character in the Union, pm me so we can discuss.
Current players- Carl Michelson (Citizen, surveyor)
Dan Stregor (citizen, unknown)
How it'll work- I will funtion as game master. I.e if you do something I will decide the outcome, what you see and how people aroudd you react (discointing other players of course) I'm fair so don't worry. This game could go on for as long or as short as you like, and where it goes will be totally up to you.
Pm me if you habe any questions.
The map of KAPPA (if the link works)-
https://s3.amazonaws.com/profileimages.torn.com/6d959c0b-7f90-580b-1943594.png
YouTube video (credit to thrail for showing this)-
Https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Y-VAQiO_aEA
Carl Michelson stood back against the cold brick of the robust brick arched doorway. Dressed in light grey surveyors overalls to protect his suit, a small backpack hanging from his right shoulder, a little food and water to get him through the night, his surveying notes along with a small swiss army knife and the night vision goggles he had salvaged from surveying the old MOD base the only things with him. An old tourist map of the building in the top pocket of his overalls.
Hands shaking as he listened for signs of movement from inside while trying to block out the droning hum of the orbital drop ships moving overhead. Mind racing with questions, would this finally be a suitable place? how was he going to get power in undetected? would the old abandoned science building to the north have kit that worked? No one would miss him till the morning but if found out after curfew he knew he would pay a heavy price. His rehearsed excuse of working late, getting scared and seeking shelter not too far from the truth.
The long summer days were not ideal for his plan, patiently waiting hours for the light to fade although the haze of smog helped in reducing visibility. Fine for hiding against us humans but what do those creatures really see.
The old brick opening framing two large, slightly ajar, ancient wooden doors to what might have once been a grand old building, now battered and caked in carbon left from the smog. Its old form not suitable for 'conversion to the lattice housing maze'. The warped and weathered sign out front declared it 'The British Natural History Museum' and yet not for some time had anyone been afforded the luxury of seeing inside or visiting this old renown museum. Learning now was structured, deliberate and controlled.
For those still willing to take the risk to evade watchful eyes and explore the abandoned 'grey zone' buildings there were treasures still to be found and as Carl had discovered over so many painstaking years with treasures came knowledge and the ideas of a plan. Ofcourse his appointed task as area planner and engineer for the expansion of the SW7 housing zone into what was once an old park to the north would make movement a little easier.
Taking a moment to breathe, a poor attempt to slow my heart, I, Carl Michelson, step out of the shadows, place my back against the left door leaf and using my hands push against the right door, attempting to increase the opening and squeeze through the gap and into the darkness beyond.
Carl Michelson- You stumble through the large wooden door as it suddenly gives way, with a snapping and cracklng of dried and dead wood. You barely keep you balance, but you manage to stay upright. Looking around quickly,you see a number of psssible areas to look around. To you front is the main lobby, and the reception. Further on, the darkness is too thick to see anything more than a doorway. To your right lies a smaller set of doors, which leads to an are exhibition you assume. This is the same to the left. Behind you is the doors you came from, one now crooked and bent in the centre and open. Looking at the cold marble floor, you suddenly realise there are several bodies. Your eyes dicern three or four decayed corpses, clearly killed by Union cleanup crews. This is clear to you because the cleanup crews use pulse weapons that pulverise the inards of humans, breaking bone and reducing internal organs to jelly. This is what you see now. (what do you do? where do you go?)
A frown crosses my forehead as I suppress the anger of yet another example of the brutality of the Union. One day this will all be different. Attempts of honouring the dead lost years ago, I reluctantly turn my attention back to the matter in hand. Checking the door behind me I peer out of the gap to make sure my action has not drawn unwanted attention.
Thinking the coast is clear I turn back to the main lobby, allowing my eyes to adjust, and take in my surroundings. Noting the familiar spacial arrangements from the tour guide map and positioning of the doors I carefully step over the pulverised remains of the unlucky souls and head forward towards the reception and the door beyond in search of the stairwell.
It is pitch black ahead, but you can see a stairwell. Above, the ceiling is cracked and sagging under eears of disrepair. The occasional gash reveals the slowly darkening sky above you. The door is open, but not enough to arouse suspicion in any passer by. You approach the doors which appear to be wide open, and within you can see a large stairwell. It leads to the next floor,but also to the basement lower down. There is another corpse here, pressed agaisnt a wall, its chest splayed out across the wall. Killed by a vicious ravager creature,much like a hunting dog for humans, it hunts outcasts and tears them apart with four large, spiked limbs. They usually havd an electric control collor for the cleanup crews to direct them with. You continue on.
I move forward slowly, carefully, listening and pausing at the slightest sound until i reach the stairs, pausing to look at the corpse. Its nothing i haven't seen before but then I've never been the one out at night, never been the one that might be found like that. This all feels so real, can one man really achieve anything against these overseers. I shake my head, trying to refocus, my mind berating me, 'Get a grip Carl, focus or die'.
Crouching at the edge of the stairs I unsling my backpack and remove the night vision goggles. Pausing again to listen, knowing I have one chance. Shouldering my backpack I adjust the goggles and slip them on before clicking the switch, the world turning shades of green. "damn Carl why didn't you practice with them" scaring my self as i whisper my curse.
I take a breath and start to descend towards the lower floor. Carefully trying to avoid the debris scattered over each tread.
As you descend, you contantly look down at your feet, trying not to step on anything too loud or too large, so as not to trip. Your goggles help your vision, but are still very old, and seeing is still quite difficult. You get to the bottom of the stairs, nnd are faced with a rusted metal security fence with a chain door in middle. A sign is hung on the front. You try reading it, but bits are chipeed away and rusted, all you can make out is "personnel" and "warning". This is the only way forward. Some old newpapers are blown by a slight breeze beneath you feet.
Distracted for a moment by the slight breeze, questions arising, perhaps a broken vent or service door an alternate route perhaps. I reach into the backpack and take out the swiss army knife. Opening up the small pick like tool I wonder if this might even work or if I'll need to force the lock, I feel so unprepared.
I take the lock in one hand and using the pick attempt to pick the lock.
You place the tool in the lock, begininng to pick it. However as you apply pressure to the lock, it simply corrodes away and the door squeeks open, slammigg against the fence making a loud and echoing clang of metal on metal. This sets the hairs on your neck on end, and iccreases your nervousness. Esspecially as it echoes down the dark, forboding corridor. Now the fence is opened, oou can see that the corridor goes down a ways, there a few doors leading left and right, all heavy metal and rusted. Broken and burnt out ligts hand from the ceiling, soee shattered on the floor, scattering glass. A breeze blows again, this time throwing some papers gently into the air. One hits tour shoulder and you brush it off, the cover reads "International armies defeated: Earth surrenders." One of the last newspapers everprinted.
Suddenly I exhale and gulp in a mouthful of air. How long had I held that breath? was I really this stupid? what the hell am I doing here? did anyone or anything hear that? expecting a blow to descend from any direction at any moment, my life forfeit for my own stupid careless actions. And yet why the hell is my left foot moving forwards? 'stop it' my right foot following suit 'not you too, what the hell, lets go back'. My crazed conversation with my feet as they betray me continues as they move me slowly down the corridor.
I reluctantly concede to their control and my attention returns to assess the condition of the space, each breath one more than i thought i would have after the door smashing against the fence. However with each step my desperate urge to run increases, a blind hope that the plant room is down here and the utilities and services are not too badly damaged.
I move forward towards the first of the heavy metal doors, looking for any remnants of signage to reveal the purpose of the space beyond.
Upon the first door, you see, rather remarkably, 'Plant room' emblazoned boldly in large capital letters. You immediately feel more relieved, almost laughing out loud to yourself. The wind blows again, strong now coming from the stairs down into the corridor. This quickly destroys your short lived excitement.
I manage to stifle what would have been an almost crazed laugh or cry of success as the wind startles me again. Keen to put myself on the other side of the metal plant room door.
Hurriedly I turn the large metal handle and pull at the door, ignoring an worry of noise, my desperation exposed in the panicked need to be out of the corridor.
You yank the door open quickly, even though the metal scrapes across the floor. There is no room for care you think, as you rush into the room and shut the door behind you, locking it with a large and sturdy deadbolt. You are safe, for now at least. You turn, and see a truly magnificent sight. The plant room has very few pots or shelves of plants remaining, but that has not stopped a whole ecosystem growing here. A variety of the rarest plants flourish in this little slice of paradise, with ivy crawling up through the ceiling, which must let through daylight and water when it was daytime. It was a fairly large room, with a few open doors around. In the centre was a large metal table with a few plants on and a puddle of water in the sagging middle. The walls were lined with remnants of shelves and the ivy which had destroyed them, there were 3 other doors, one in each wall. They appeared to be an underground greenhouse opposite the metal door, to his left a store room and to his right a office of some description. The door was a soggy, rotten wooden mess on the floor. The other so we're rusty metal. It was fairly warm in here, and the mysterious breeze didn't each this area. There was a slow drip somewhere around here.
Dan stealthily made his way through the shadows of the streets. Currently in an industrial area located where the Crawley used to be. Armed with a simple hunting rifle, manufactured in 2014 and given to him by his father, before his father died for "unknown" reasons. Dan also had a small backpack, in that backpack he had a small amount of food, might be able to last him a day or so, two water bottles, and a small box containing 50 shots for his rifle. Not many considering how many Union soldiers there were out there and that he might not find any suitable ammo for the rifle again. On his rifle he had a 3x scope, also manufactured in 2014, which he tried to keep as clean as possible, and a small can on the tip of the barrel, working like a makeshift suppressor, it didn't work that well but at least it slightly worked.
Dan keeps watch for any Union patrols, sentries, etc. While also trying to find a place to stay for the night, preferably an abandoned building of any sort.
Now, let's see some of Dan Streger's past.
As a child, Dan had been nearly convinced by mass propoganda by the Union. He had wanted to join them and be part of what he thought was the "good side". What he didn't know was that his father was part of the resistance. One day, his father went out for what he said was work.
He never came back.
Dan was confused for many years, thinking he had been abandoned by his loving father, but finally at the age of 16, he was notified that his father had died due to "unknown" causes. Dan immediately suspected the Union, after starting to not believe the Union propoganda. So when he was age 18 he took what he could, the things he carried now, and swore he would see the Union fall one day.
Notable Facts: Dan is great with any form of ranged weapon, he is not very strong and makes up for it with accuracy. Also not doing well in many fights, he prefers stealth instead of confronting the enemy.
Dan Streger- You sneak through streets in the night, dull, thin been a of moonlight are all the actually hit the ground because of the intense smog bleached out by the factories half a mile or so away. Most of the building her have also been 'repurposed' and changed in larger, taller edifices with towering smokestacks, further darkening the streets below. You duck behind an alley way, taking a peak behind you onto the street. Ten metres or so down the alley, which located between two large processing centres for making tinned and canned rations for the population, is a T intersection, a path going left, another going right. At the very end you can just make out what may be a derelict building with a Union biolock attached to the front. Back out on the street, you see a Union patrol squad suddenly emerge to the left, you discern 4 human officers equipped with advanced Union kinetic weapons and a single alien. It is a Watcher. They are tall, 8 foot at least, and slender clad in a long cloak that bullies about them, they have a grey-black leathery skin and exceptional eyesight and sensory function. To fight they use a set of barbed needles that at discharged from their long fingers. Each one is poisonous, not to kill but to disorientate and confuse the victims. They are fairly weak physically, but can be extremly quick.
Edit- The human police officers are clad in long grey trench coats, muddy on the bottom. Underneath they wear black armour, a thin and lightweight plastic-metal alien alloy, which is enough to withstand a bullet but not the kinetic force behind it, I.e a bullet won't go through it but it may still hurt the human inside a lot. It would take 3-4 shots on the chest to break the plate and kill him. This armour extends around the back of the neck. The face is often left open, sometimes they however in places like this Esspecially, they don their black face mask, which resembles a gas mask, with 2 bug eye holes and filters for the air within, cause in a slight bulge at the front which looks like a short snout.
As the large metal bolt slides into place securing the door I turn and slump back against the weight of the solid metal door. A wry smile breaks across my face as I laugh at the irony of the situation, 'The plant room'. With next to no knowledge of gardening let alone skills this lush hidden 'plant room' is not what I was looking for and yet the potential riches within go far beyond my idea of trying to get the power and utilities up and running. It seems tonight offers me a different challenge.
Carefully I step around, over and through the foliage, awed at the sight of so many magnificent living things, the colours and shapes so vibrant and rich, the scent overwhelming my senses. Moving clockwise around the roomI head towards the store on the left first, only to peer inside, intending to circle the room and ensure the only way in and out is the door behind me as I take stock of what is in here. My mind already hoping that there may be books in the office that will help me identify at least a little of this magnificent living chaos.
Carl Michelson- You tread carefully and look inside the store. Within lining walls are several metal footlockers on shelves, all locked. There is a fire extinguisher by your foot to your left, but the rest of the room is bare and Very dark. There is nothing else in the room. The second room is long and thin, with racks of plants which have far outgrown their containers. This room has a vent in the centre which has, you assume, allowed some light to enter in. There is little else contained in this greenhouse, other than a surplus of what must be extremly nutritious soil. The final room has no door, and you step over the mush on the floor. Within, there is a desk, a few filing cabinets and a computer. The role must be the only way in to the 'plant room'. You wonder about why the museum would have a room dedicated to plants, but then you remember stories you heard, that before the war cloning had taken a dramatic turn and plants were brought back from extinction. These must all be extinct plants.
The realisation that these plants have not just survived but thrived within this damp, warm basement room is dwarfed by the sheer wonder that these plants were once extinct and have been saved. Despite all that has changed these plants almost unaffected are growing at a pace.
Placing my backpack to one side of the desk I brush the dust off the chair and sit down, feeling a little calmer as I enter my comfort zone. Years of applying an analytical process to surveying buildings and evaluating the condition of each building element as my thoughts now adapt and apply those processes to this surprising new discovery. If only I had read more about botany when I was younger.
"Well Carl Michelson, you have your work cut out for you" I mutter under my breath as I attempt to open the desks three side drawers in turn and begin what I expect to be a long first night, keen at this point to find some log, index or reference to the seeds stored and perhaps visual references of each plant type.
I reach down to my backpack, removing my notebook and pen and start to add a few reminders for later.
Reminder - Survey team - Hyde Park Resi development- Books - botany and flora, ground conditions in Zone SW7 including soil types
- Utilities information
- Light source - rechargeable solar torch and candles/matches or lantern
- Cleaning - materials and tools, handy wipes
- Request site office south side Hyde park, amenities and sleeping facilities perhaps? (permit would be needed).
Separately on a piece of paper I take from the desk I scribble a separate set of notes on the back, which I intend to leave here in my new office:
To Do - Jobs- find key for the store room cabinets
- find the other plant room - check electrics are live, connected to grid??
- isolate basement electrical circuit
- check the main two towers for a suitable watch point
- find binoculars
- set up a place to sleep - need bedding?!, camping cot
- check if plumbing and water is still connected/operational
- find a weapon
- work out escape routes and potential safe rooms
- find books on properties of plants medicinal or nutritional
- search for specialist facilities in the museum labs and research rooms, kitchen (dried canned foods), amenities (showers, toilets etc.), cleaners rooms (materials) first aid room (medical equipment), caretakers rooms (keys, tools)
Recognising the sheer scale of tasks facing me it reminds me how alone I am. No stranger to long-term construction projects I leave prioritising the activities for another day and return to the matter in hand.
I start by carefully searching through each drawer and cabinet looking for anything that might be of use.