Post by AegisFate on Feb 18, 2014 20:32:01 GMT
History:
In the times of Old, man spread across the stars. It was these times of endless optimism that lead to judgment, humanity's sins finally catching up with them, lighting worlds aflame. It was a time of great strife, of nature itself being twisted and torn by the fires of judgment. Across the stars, the galaxy burned, and those few humans who remained regard these times as myth, centuries gone by since these dark times.
Now:
Gerund. A once verdant world turned to a dusty wasteland from the great hulks that loom across its surface and in orbit. What few vessels that still sputter out power from their behemoth reactors play host to vast settlements housing those who survived the firestorms of the old days. These few bastions of civilization are separated by immense spans of endless wastelands, pockmarked by mutated creatures and freakish anomalies. Nature is twisted in parody, scraggly trees dotting long dead forests, the cycle of life vicious in the extreme. Few dare to hunt through these lands, preferring safety in the relatively sustainable settlements, but even then, some journey out for trade and exploration. Those few are known primarily as Hunters.
Hunters. The title given to those who explore, those who return with wealth, those who travel between settlements, those who fight back the horrors of the real world. Often they are boisterous folk, talking of what they have seen, the wealth they have obtained, and of the other settlements and their folk. Common are the stories of the cannibal tribes far to the North, where the sun does not shine, or of the mad scientists of Makarov Station, whose inventions are as fantastical as they are impractical. They are universally armed and armored for journey amongst the wastes, their fears leading them to never believe they are safe. They all universally fear one thing. To become a Corpse.
Corpses. This is the name of those few Hunters who have lost everything, soulless men and women who fight without fear, act without emotion, and speak little. A Corpse is gifted in some respect, some becoming more agile, some capable of navigating without error or knowing what will happen before it does. With a gift often comes a disadvantage, beyond the lack of emotions. Some are cursed with a thirst that can only be quenched with violence, others with an aversion to sunlight. They are to be feared because they have taken in the truth of the wastes, ignored all else for the reminder of what this world is not.
Stalkers. Those Hunters who eschew the Consortium, the very organization that keeps the wastes somewhat full of hope. Mercenaries, murderers, thieves and rapists all of them, they have no morals, but they are still men. They can be bargained with, they can be bought, never caring for what they do so long as they are paid. The most famous of Stalkers is known as Seregoi Barmitsh, known for thousands of horrible acts, although rumors of his actions have dried up, the last being that he went past the Scar, never to be heard from again.
The most common form of currency in the wasteland is the credit, a combination of pre war coins and coins manufactured in stamp presses in most major settlements. The design of the credit itself and the composition of the coin dates back to times of old. Whilst some of the aesthetics of the coin seem foreign and odd, it is one of the few things of the past that remains.
As any society would have it, weapons are manufactured by a variety of scrapsmiths that are as numerous as they are needed. Some are capable of making a rifle out of some tubing and some spare bits and pieces, although such a weapon has remarkably poor quality up to the finest of fire arms made of the finest materials and designed for a single purpose. To kill. Out in the wastes there is a single known settlement that is renowned for their weapons, armor and general equipment. The Smithy is the only name that is associated with it and traders that can acquire goods from there find themselves significantly richer than they were originally.
Arms and armor of the waste are in two rough categories, Scrapsmithed and Autofab. Scrapsmithed references weapons made manually using various methods and done by various individuals, often using whatever is at hand, and in some cases can be as simple as a tube with a trigger attached, or a high grade assault rifle. Truly, scrapsmithed weapons are often of erratic quality, and those looking to acquire new weapons would spend good time searching for the best before entering the wastes. Autofab, or Automated Fabrication weapons and armor sit in a different class, being known for their general high quality. Most examples of these are either relics from the Times of Old or more modern manufactured items produced in automated foundries painstakingly reassembled over time. Of course, these items are often of vastly superior quality and design, but rarer and more time consuming to produce.
Icarus. The name of a man who flew close to the sun, of a ship of Old and now one of many settlements dotting Gerund. It is a colossal hulk, at most a quarter of it being used and occupied, the rest full of empty rooms and oft undiscovered treasures behind buckled armor plating. Little of the hulk is fully explored, the primary sections still functional and in use being Engineering, Agroponics and most of the crew quarters. Near the front of the vessel on each side is a massive hangar, the one facing south closed and playing host to the only market on Icarus, whilst the open hangar facing north is empty and desolate, barely used by travelers because of a variety of myths and the lack of real 'cover.' The primary point of entry for any traveler is known primarily as the 'Gash.' The Gash is a massive rent in the north facing side of the vessel, scrap metal sealing most of it away from the interior.
Icarus is the home to three thousand people of various ethnic groups, religious beliefs and political ideologies. This brewing pot has always been boiling over into the occasional conflict amongst the hulk. Primary in the peace keeping is the Militia, a small, armed force occupying the aft armory. Their mission is rather simple, keep everyone from killing each other. Usually it means breaking up a bar room brawl, dealing with vandals and shooting violent demagogues. Their most notable action in recent history was their part in stopping the rampant violence between the two groups known only as the Tops and the Bottoms. This conflict was realistically over who owned what part of the ship and was only put down because of a mysterious bomb blast that killed both leaders during a 'peace summit.'
The Tops are one of the two major players on a political level in Icarus. Named for their residency of the upper decks, they control most of the agroponics facilities still functional within Icarus and make their living by making everyone else pay for living.
The Bottoms are the other major player in politics. Their name is a parody of the Tops, instead of describing where they live. They are such a player in politics because of their residency of the engineering section of the vessel, controlling the flow of power to the various sections of the hulk.
Regardless, the North Hangar is far from the occupied section of the ship and is left alone for its great gaping entrance to the outside. The Bridge is the last part of the ship, empty and full of wealth for good reason. Skeletal bodies still adorn their battle stations, the glass long shattered from descent. Echoes seem to appear and fade away at random, quiet screams of those who sit undisturbed.
A man has been searching through Icarus, looking for something, a dark cloak obscuring his features, stopping rarely to leave a note with an intrepid soul, often in varying ways, but always leaving the recipient looking up at nothing as the man leaves as quick as he came. You are one of those intrepid souls, born and existed all your life in Icarus, a chance at adventure outside there.
Name: (Self Explanatory)
Profession: (What your character did for a living before they were approached by the mysterious man)
Age: (Self Explanatory)
Appearance: (What you look like, general aesthetics, etc.)
Gear: (Details on what your character possesses, such as clothing, weapons or other miscellaneous bits and pieces)