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 Posted: Sun Jul 24, 2011 9:13 pm
Βƪąċķ ϩħęęƥ
A new roleplay by Harx and Ixy
I. Rules
II. The Story
III. Character Applications
IV. Accepted Characters
V. Reserved
VI. Reserved
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Posted: Sun Jul 24, 2011 9:14 pm
Rules
1. Follow Guild Rules/Gaia TOS
2. No posting until you submit an application and get approved by either Ixtaek or Harxlily.
3. Keep cursing to an absolute minimum. We are in a harmonious, perfect world where swear words have no place.
4. Your character must have some sort of power that is useless to a perfect, efficient world. Maybe something purely destructive or inherently evil. See the powers list for ideas!
5. If you have questions, please post in the OOC or PM either myself or Ixtaek; don't post it here!
6. We reserve the right to add/remove/change rules as need be. -w-
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Posted: Sun Jul 24, 2011 9:15 pm
It started in
2145.
A company based in the micronation of Sealand accidentally spilled a vast quantity of unknown substance into the Atlantic Ocean, horrifying the Environmentalist Party of neighboring Britain. Though no effects were originally noted, after 2 years people began to notice a change.
Their children were born with the powers of flight, accelerated horticultural talents, and even psychokinesis. Many horrified parents abandoned these odd children, and several were taken in by an order of nuns based in the ruins of the ancient city of Canterbury. These children grew up in a loving environment, learning of the old ways, and hearing constant tales of God’s love and humankind's short comings. The children began to wish a perfect world, where everyone had their place and could all work to make others happy, would emerge. Among their number, children with strong, mind altering powers actually began to make this a reality. With the concerted efforts of these children and their children and grandchildren, each utilizing their special gift, they rebuilt Canterbury. The New Canterbury was a utopia. There was never a lack of food, as those gifted in horticulture, or the ‘Earthies’, grew sufficient bumper crops to support their budding city. Those with powers of pyrokinesis and metallurgy became craftsmen, while those with powers over thread became tailors. Their city boomed as the rest of the world, whose children had come into powers of their own, and used them for far more selfish reasons, languished. The Canterbury Children, as they called themselves, began sending emissaries with mind-altering powers to parts of the globe wracked in turmoil. These Children sought to ease tensions and promote an equal lifestyle among the locals of these areas, and ended up creating colonies that adhered, through minor brainwashing, to their peaceful ways. Eventually the last of the normal humans, a nun who had raised many of the Canterbury Children, died. By this time Canterbury was at the center of a large, sprawling empire that covered most of the globe and promoted the nun’s simple lifestyle and the use of powers for the care and keeping of your neighbors instead of yourself.
The original brain-washing children gave birth to a new generation of mind-controller, who they raised and molded from birth to be kind, unselfish, and caring. This generation became the new leaders of the empire, and when their children were born they, too, were raised from birth to only care about the welfare of others and the protection of the empire’s ideals.
This system continued for almost a century when certain people began to show signs of dissatisfaction. Many wished to try a new job, one unsuited to their natural gifts. Being benevolent in nature, the leaders allowed them to do so. The results were disastrous. Accidents led to injury and death among many, and the offenders were ordered to return to their natural lines of work.
Some refused.
In a monumental decision, the Canterbury Children decided to deport these offenders to an asylum on the "abandoned" island of Australia, where they hoped a few weeks (or years) in isolation would help them realize how much society depended on everyone as a whole. However, the cruel ways in which these "black sheep" were treated in the asylum made these individuals grow twisted, and began to plan a way to bring about a new era.
Now, they must escape the asylum walls and show society just how dangerous sweeping your problems under the rug really is.
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Posted: Sun Jul 24, 2011 9:16 pm
Blank Patient Paperwork (to be submitted to Harxlily)
Name:
DOB:
Serial Number: [this is what your character will be called by asylum officials]
Skin:
Height:
Weight:
Hair:
Eyes:
Disability: [your power]
Case Details: [back story]
Additional Information:
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Posted: Sun Jul 24, 2011 9:18 pm
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Posted: Sun Jul 24, 2011 9:19 pm
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Posted: Sun Jul 24, 2011 9:21 pm
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Posted: Sat Jul 30, 2011 12:33 am
It was his first night on the job. Wesley Harris walked through the halls of New Eden, his key ring jangling loudly as it hit his leg with each step. The lady in pink had informed him that every hour, on the hour, he was to do rounds in “The Golden Pasture”- or Hall 13- where the quarantined patients were kept.
His first two rounds had gone well. From the rumors he heard from his new coworkers, he had expected things to be much worse. But at midnight, not a peep was heard from cell 617, where the “Chickenscratch” stayed. Rumor had it that one scratch from the man's nails would give you terrible chicken pox for life. His neighbor, patient 67895551, was also sound asleep. Then again, she was nearly seventy years old and plagued with dementia, which is what anyone who came in contact with her hands would also contract. At one AM, the hall was again, deathly silent.
The scarier ones were near the end of the hall, but they, too, were also sound asleep. “Blind Dia” in room 630 was a buxom blonde in her early 20s- but Wesley had been warned not to stare. Though her head was wrapped in thick black bandages, one look in her eyes meant instant blindness.
Now, at 2 AM, Wesley walked more confidently through The Pasture. Chicken Pox, Dementia, blindness...all curled up innocently in their fluffy asylum beds. Even the chubby redheaded girl- nicknamed “Sweet Tooth” by the orderlies- who turned any food she touched into an instant diabetic coma, was resting soundly. Room 235, who transmitted Polio, and Room 238, Smallpox.... Wesley sped up past 240, the 50 year old man who spread gonorrhea through the blink of an eye. That was an experience he didn't want to repeat again.
The worst were at the end in the 250s. The Incurables. Leprosy, HIV, AIDS, Cancer.... They were all there, and simply referred to by the disease they spread. Being in this part of the hall gave him the creeps. Even though all the patients were quiet, he didn't dare look in at any of them.
The hall was pitch black down here, save for the beam emitted from Wesley's flashlight. He knew he was the only guard assigned to this hall for the night, but he couldn't help feeling he was being watched...
His eyes darted around nervously, and the flashlight's ray bounced around as his hand shook.
The cloying stench of blood invaded his nose. He felt eyes on the back of his neck. Something tickled at the back of his mind...something the lady in pink had said. She had bombarded him with so much information...how was he supposed to keep up with all of it?
“Room 256...”
His eyes raced to the plaque on the door closest to him. 254. It was two doors behind him. The hairs on the back of his suddenly stood on end.
“256....”
What was 256?
“...Dangerous...Must always be...”
He slowly turned.
Always be what?
Then he saw her. She was tiny. Frail. Huge dark eyes, sunk into a pale little face. Her hair was long, past her waist. Black. Stringy. Looked like she had just crawled out of a lake. Standing at the edge of her cell, staring out of her transparent door. Her eyes were locked on his. Unblinking.
Her mouth was moving. Silent words formed, but no noise came out. Wesley shined his light on her mouth.
One word. Not words. One word over and over and over.
“Closer.”
He took a step. He couldn't help it. The smell of blood grew thicker.
Her mouth was still moving. There was a pile of black cloth on the floor near her tiny white feet. All that was covering her pale skin was a thin cotton shift, which was what the female patients used for underclothes. What? Why didn't she have any clothes? She already looked like she was on the brink of death- and so little!
He fumbled for his keys until he found the one marked 256.
“She must always be.....”
Click.
The transparent door creaked open.
A white hand shot out from the darkness, wrapping tightly around Wesley's wrist. Squeezing.
“....Always be covered.”
Ebola.
He realized too late. In horror, he looked down at his hand, where an oozing red spot was forming. Then another. And another. Soon, his entire arm was covered in the things. The little white hand let go of his. He fell to the ground, blood dripping from his nostrils. He tasted blood. A pustule on the side of his face exploded, thick black blood bursting from it. Was he crying? Probably. Nothing had ever hurt this bad in his life, even when Shirley had kicked him in the groin after reading his text messages from Michelle....
Something was dripping from his eyes though, landing on the lens of his flashlight. The entire room was tinted in red light.
His vision blurred. The girl was gone; he heard little footsteps echoing rapidly down the hall. Then, a scream followed by a gurgle.
As blood leaked from every pore and orifice on his body, he mustered enough strength to push the little button on the side of his watch.
The alarms screamed, joining a few human ones.
-----------------------------------------------------
“She was caught, of course.”
Greta Farthington stood in front of the most well behaved patients of New Eden, addressing them about last night's incident. Her pink sequined shirt glittered under the fluorescent lighting of the common area.
“Patient 6034217 has been detained, and placed in Hall 17 with the rest of our high security patients. I realize some of you may be....” Her pink lips twitched. “....friends with her. But she will not be around anymore. If you feel like you need to talk to someone about your feelings, feel free to enlist the services of our many counselors!” She gestured to the 5 people in lavender scrubs.
“No need to worry about our security here. I assure you, it's completely tight. There was just a small....blip...in the quality of our personnel last night, and I assure you that it will never happen again.” Her eyes narrowed as she almost growled, then suddenly switched back to her usual peppy self. “Now.. let's all turn those frowns upsidedown! Now, today's activities are painting, small animal therapy, and lawn bowling!”OOC: So...the idea is that..the other patients will be inspired...? by Mina's attempted escape. And kind of band together. Also, Ixy's character is gonna kinda use his creepy hypnotism brainwash thing to convince those who are a bit...reluctant. so yeah. thats whats happening.
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Posted: Tue Aug 02, 2011 9:18 pm
Get in. Get them. Get out.
That was the mantra Private Albert Highland had lived by. Find the safest way into a burning, collapsing, or being blown away building. Find the people trapped inside and assure them everything would be alright if they stayed close. Then get them back out the safest and fastest way possible so medics could help them. Oh, and don’t die. That was important.
Private Highland had always been good at this. He had been in the Peace Corps for his whole life, had trained ceaselessly to save lives. Admittedly, his powers had always had been on the fritz, but that was inconsequential. Canterbury accepted everyone. Canterbury looked out for everyone. And Private Highland was part of Canterbury, one-hundred percent the rigid and disciplined soldier he had been raised to be. His only ambition was to rise in the ranks, and live by the 3 simple rules of “Get in. Get them. Get out.”
Private Highland, or perhaps the more fitting term would be ex-Private Highland, Civilian Highland, still dreamed of the night he hadn’t been able to carry out those rules.
It had been almost a year now. Had the Private been a defacing type he would have kept a tally on his wall to mark the passage of time, so he could remember the day he had awoken in this cell, in this asylum. Unfortunately his upbringing prevented him from doing so, and his cell wall remained pristine. But he knew the anniversary was closing in on him.
It had been a rather routine assignment. So routine, in fact, that a few of the newer, less trained recruits had thought it was a drill. A simple fire, easy enough to put out with all their modern technology. Private Highland had raced in to save the civilians, silently wishing the others would follow his lead and stop goofing off.
His wish became reality.
The other recruits followed him, their eyes terrifyingly blank and calm as the building crumbled around them. The victims, likewise, all stood and hobbled after him, faces blank of pain or fear. The Private had felt all their eyes upon him and panicked. Without the support of the telekinetic rescuers to hold it up, the building had collapsed on top of them.
The only survivor was the Private.
Though when he awoke he had no more than a permanent sense of failure, he didn’t remember the dreams. And, thanks to a large chunk of concrete that had hit him in the collapse, he didn’t remember the event either. Only that he had been in the Corps… then relocated to New Eden for ‘evaluation’.
If the Corps wanted him in New Eden, in New Eden he would stay. He disliked Greta Farthington and her frivolous outfits, but otherwise had no real complaints. The clothes were reasonably comfortable, the cells more spacious and comfortable than the barracks, and the food edible. The fellow inmates, for the most part, seemed more like lost sheep than dangerous criminals.
Not that he saw them. Ever since the incident, he had been requested to wear blinders whenever he was in contact with other people. He didn’t understand the reason for these orders, and he didn’t try to. He only obeyed them. He went to bed when ordered, woke up when ordered, ate when ordered, did whatever activity they planned for the day. He was a perfect soldier.
His obedience was noted, and he had been afforded privileges. He was allotted more food, better quarters, and easier jobs. His most common task was to bring food to the higher risk patients, without his blinders on. Supposedly, he was a soothing and wholesome example to them, or so Greta Farthington had said.
That was how he had met her. 6034217.
He didn’t know her name, he had never even spoken to her. But the first time he had brought her food, their eyes had met for just one moment, and he had felt a wrench of pity for her.
She was only a child. She deserved better than this. Even the Peace Corps, with all it regimented behavior and strict discipline, let its recruits have personal time, time to sit out and enjoy the sun. This girl looked as if she had lived in her cell for her whole life. She was dangerous, they warned. Uncontrollable.
Still, he felt a stab of sympathy for her, locked up like that. They never spoke, but he began to slip a little extra onto her tray. A cookie or some other sweet. He didn’t like eating them anyway, and she was so thin… He would take an extra of whatever inane craft the trustees were allowed to do and put it on her tray. He didn’t know if she completed them, but Greta Farthington was delighted in his interest in ‘the arts’ and lavished praise on the ones he did, no matter how horrible they looked.
Even so, word of her attempted escape hit the Private rather hard. He wanted to go check on her, but he couldn’t show interest. She was a deserter. In the Peace Corps that was the lowest of the low. The Private could never fathom committing such an act.
Even so, he could hardly wait for his next assignment to food detail. He had to be sure she was ok.
(Sooo... It's kind of longish... sorry... Private will be more concise from now on)
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Posted: Wed Aug 03, 2011 5:08 pm
No idea what I'm doing here. 8D
Control- that's what society was all about. Ever since her childhood, everyone had been out to mold her, change her into what was good for everyone else. Alexandra Zaleskii-she was not a number- had accepted it in her younger years. One day she'd woken up. Twelve years old and she'd gotten tired of not being able to live; to make mistakes. Anything less than perfection was not enough for her parents.They grew far too wise of her power and it just stopped working on them. After one more instant of being berated for her "attitude", she'd simply left, for real this time. Street living wasn't all it was cracked up to be. One night, starving, in a completely different city, she'd be inticed into a place by the promise of a warm meal and a place to sleep. She'd gotten all that, and more, but they hadn't let her leave. For two years she'd been a prisoner, and then she'd had a chance.
She really hadn't meant to kill the woman. It had just so happened that they'd gotten in a face-to face serious discussion before she'd been loaded in the car. She'd confessed and gotten herself landed here. Whatever she'd thought of her previous living arrangements, they were nothing compared to this. This was the prison she'd always equated home with.
Over three years she'd learned that if she played along, if she was good, she got more "freedom"s. Anything was worth not having to sit in the cell all day. They let her do simple things, even mingle with some of the others. She really could have lived without the helmet, a giant bulky thing that resembled what astronauts had worn two hundred years ago. Slowly, she was growing the same distaste for this way of life as she always had. Unlike the others places, there was no way out.
Today, the girl had a little hope. She stood, gathered in the room with the others, listening to that irritating Farthington woman. The topic was a lot more interesting than most days. Someone had tried to make a break for it. She'd never been able to figure out the locks, but someone else had. Alexandra hated having to depend on another person, but she had to know how this as-of-yet unnamed person had done it. That would take entry into the highest security areas, apparently. She didn't have that access. Access could eventually be gotten; she would just have to wait and see.
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Posted: Wed Aug 03, 2011 6:35 pm
It was gonna be a good day.
His favorite cafeteria lady, Gladys, had given him a little bit of extra cream cheese for his breakfast bagel. It was a beautiful day, or so it looked from the window in the common area. He wasn't allowed outside, except under close supervision once a week, even though he loved nature. Before he came to New Eden, he had been the best in his class at sports. He dominated at footraces, monkey bars, dodgeball, and foursquare...not to mention rock skipping. The feeling of sun on his skin, wind in his hair, and earth under his feet was all he needed to be content.
So, when Ms. Farthington announced the lawn bowling...Johnny Graustein mentally declared it “The Best Day Ever”. At least, the best day ever this month. He had never tried to resist or struggle with anyone in the asylum, so they generally let him do as he pleased.
A stupid smile was plastered on his face as the patient looked around at those around him. A girl with dark skin and hair to match, another girl with brown eyes, and the military guy. The “Private” was famous around the asylum. He didn't speak much, at least as far as Johnny knew, and cut quite an intimidating figure. In fact, he wasn't sure if the guy was just someone the military had planted there to keep an eye on them all. But it was really none of Johnny's business, nor did he really care.
He had a simple, easy life here. He didn't know why the little psycho girl had tried to escape last night. They provided them with everything: a bed, good food, even some fun activities! Sure, they were under constant surveillance. Sure, his room was completely empty except for the fluffy yellow walls. Sure, he didn't have any real friends except Gladys....And Tyrone, but he had been discharged half a year ago.
But still, it was all in the best interest of everyone. It kept the patients safe from themselves, and kept the rest of the world safe from the patients.
Turning to glance at the girl nearest to him, Johnny decided it was time for him to meet some new people. She was cute enough. Olive colored skin, pretty hair....the giant helmet was a bit distracting, but he had seen much, much stranger things in his stay. Hell, the kid who tried to escape last night was always in a full body-stocking type thing. The few times he had seen her, that is. Sometimes they let her come into the cafeteria along with the other Gold Pasture patients. They had to sit in a different area, but he still could see them.
“So, lawn bowling sounds really fun! Which activity are you gonna do?”
OOC: Sorry I didn't write Kaito in, Gideon, but his profile said he's always locked up sooo. I wasn't sure if he was out there with them or not.
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Posted: Fri Aug 05, 2011 11:45 am
Boredom.
A feeling that came to Kaito every time he opened his eyes in the morning. Day in and day out, it was the same routine. Get up, stare blankly at the walls of his cell, wait for meals, and go to sleep. The next day he'd do it all over again. Sure occasionally he'd mix it up and by blowing chunks of concrete from the wall and watching it whirl around the room as it attempted to collide with him but that could only entertain him for so long.
His life had been perfect, at least to him, before he had come New Eden. He had been a loner yes but he always did what he wanted and no one could tell him otherwise. The only relatives he had ever had kept he locked away like he was now. He supposed being kept away from others was a good thing but that never stopped him from trying to live his life outside of the bubble his family had put them in. He hated his relatives so the day they made the mistake of taking him out was probably the highest point in his life. They had been killed in a freak car explosion. Kaito was the only survivor, but that wasn't a surprise. No matter what catastrophe he caused his gift had never harmed him. From that point on he had done whatever he wanted, gone where ever he wanted and not a single person had gotten in his way.
Life was good...that was until he was deemed a danger to society and placed in this hell hole. Now he lives a monotonous life, his hope of ever seeing the outside world again had long since shattered.
Or so he thought...
Today had been more of the same until two guards appeared to bring him his meal. Something was off. Normally the guards would proceed into his cell with caution. They would always tred carefully as if the floor would collapse beneath them which experience around him had taught them was a very high probability. However, this time they seemed a bit distracted by something. Kaito sat up to listen in on what they were saying to each other. The attempted escape from another "patient" here had intrigued him as well as sparked a fire inside him. He had not know the girl but from what he overheard she was a small one but highly dangerous. If a girl like her could get as far as she did imagine how far he would be able to go if he actually tried?
"Interesting...perhaps all hope is not lost."
((OOC: Not my best post having a bit of writers block sweatdrop and it's cool Harxlily think I worked it out >.>))
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Posted: Mon Aug 08, 2011 2:35 pm
Alison was bitter toward life. She had been locked up in New Eden since she was 7. She hadn't meant to cause all those deaths. She was just trying to be friendly, and she didn't know about her powers. So she was stuck in this place as a 'precaution'. They didn't even let her out of her room. Well, they had let her out once, and only once.
It was when she was 9. One of the cafeteria ladies called her a murderer and refused to give her food. Alison didn't like that at all. She kind of got into a argument with the lady and they locked her back up before it was over and she hadn't been let out since. That was 12 years ago. She was all alone in her room every day. It wasn't even padded like most of the rooms. No, No, it was wooden. They made sure that she was in a wood room. Since she can do whatever with electronics, they didn't want to chance metal. She thought that was ridiculous; Metal doesn't have circuits or wires, its just metal.
It was about time for her food to come. She was getting hungry, just throwing a tennis ball on the wall. She did that all day everyday for the last 12 years, it was boring but it gave her something to do. It distracted her from the room, and the fact that her clothes were getting a little tight. Then her door cracked open and a package came soaring in.
"Those are some new clothes." The guard said, "Put them on and let me know when your done changing. You get to come out today."
Go outside. That was the best news Alison had heard in a long time. she quickly changed clothes and said, "I'm changed. This time outside the room, it is for number 30132568, right?"
She had memorized her number. "Yeah it is." the guard spoke as he opened the door. He continued, "says here that you haven't been out in 12 years. That has to stink. All alone in a wooden room. Well come on we don't have all day 30132568." She got up and walked out the door.
c***k. Of course, hand cuff. they didn't even trust her to move her hands in the hall way. Well, there were speakers there now, weren't there 12 years ago. These people really weren't chancing it.
There was a new lady in the cafeteria, so everything went fine. They made her eat outside. That was fine, she hadn't seen grass since she was 7, so she really didn't care. Some lady was talking about lawn bowling when she walked out. She didn't care if they didn't let her play. It was enough of a treat to see the grass and the trees. she sat down and started eating.
OOC: its kind of a boring post but I couldn't decide what to post about.
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