SnV Forums

[Its_The_Sneak!!!]

so the past three or four OMs have failed to complete themselves. Why? Because people stopped writing. Why? Mostly 'cause they had an excuse.
Well now you won't have one.

'cause here's what I'm thinkin'. Open OM. There's a GM, that'll be me. But the GM doesn't do all the work, the players do. Here's the deal:
We sign up like normal. We get our colors finalized and everything. Then the game starts. Situation normal until it's time to kill someone off.
How do we decide that? We come to a consensus that it should happen. We also vote in the thread for who should be killed off. That makes it fair... at least in theory.
Here's the other part: After a character is condemned, their player has 60 hours to write them out. After that 60 hours is up, anyone can do it. Killing the character off is the only requirement.
Here's another thing to keep the flow going: Reserves only last 12 hours. The rule still stands that you can't write again until two other people have written, but that only lasts 60 hours. If it's been more than 60 hours from your last post, feel free to reserve. The story will continue until there's only one character remaining.

Now then, about the voting. This is only limited to the players as long as the players continue to vote. If we don't get enough votes from players, we'll take 'em from anyone. However, to keep it somewhat fair and mix it up a bit, there'll be a "mayor" like in TAG. That'll be me of course. I'll make the final decision of who is to die.

Here's another power I have: If someone writes something incredibly wrong and it should never have been written in the first place, I reserve the right to make it non-canon. Being a moderator, this is easy. I'll just edit the post and turn any non-canon text gray. At the bottom of the post, I'll cite the reason. So if you feel that person A has totally misrepresented your character and totally gone against what is plainly written in the character description, fire off an irate PM to the person. If they won't change it, fire one off to me. If it looks legit, I'll make the offending text non-canon. If a writer edits their post to make something non-canon canon again, then it's immediately time for their character to die. I hope we won't have to do this at all, but I retain this power anyway just in case someone wants to write a post in which everyone dies or something.

Since I won't have anything GM-y to write, I'll throw a character in too. I promise not to godmod, but remember, it's a vote. If you really want to kill my guy off, you can. Please don't do it right off the bat though, that'd be mean.

Requirements for writing: You can't write part of the story unless you have a living character in the game. However, if the remaining people start to go inactive, I'll open it up to anyone who had a character in the game, and if that doesn't work, I'll open it up to anyone. So write people, or someone else will do it for you.

So now if you think this concept could work and might be fun, PM me a character description. Here's what I want:

Character Name
Username
Color
Brief Description
Weapons
Personality Breakdown

This is what I want, please don't copy and paste from other OMs. The Personality Breakdown is important, because it should be the biggest guideline for how to treat the character while one is writing for him or her. If an action goes against the personality breakdown, I can totally make it non-canon for you, but if it's ambiguous, then I probably won't.

As for the environment: I'll detail it more in my starting post, but here's the deal: It's an unstable universe. The contents of that universe are shaped by the unconscious thoughts of the people inside it. The OM characters will be the only ones inside it. This means, whenever someone dies, the universe might change form. It's up to the writer at time of death. Since it's shaped by people, albiet not consciously, it shouldn't ever be completely inhospitable, so don't do that. As for mapping disputes, go by this rule: Geography is completely intuitive unless something has already been specified.

I figure that in the end, if we get there, the last remaining person, rid of all the psychic interference of others, would either successfully will the universe to send him/her home, or perhaps just live out the rest of his/her life in a paradise world. It's totally up to you. Maybe the universe morphs into something they were totally unexpecting, make some huge revelation about how they operate, and commit suicide in some totally deep introspective thingy. As I said, up to you.

Also, you know my feelings on backstory. Since I'm "mayor," I can skew votes. If you are voted for, you can be designated to be killed, and bunches of backstory just paints a bigger target on your character's head.

Yeah, I think that's it. If you want more info, ask.

Ok, so after reading all that (or skimming or whatever you did), here's the sign up area. I'll post the character descriptions here, starting with mine.

Character Name: Inspector Gadget
Username: Its_The_Sneak!!!
Color: Black
Brief Description: The chief investigator for the police force in wherever he is. His major mission is to track down the evil Dr. Claw and dismantle his evil conglomerate, MAD. He's a cyborg, and has many gadgets built into his body that help him accomplish his tasks. He's also pretty clumsy and clueless, unconsciously relying on his dog and niece to help him solve the case and catch the crooks. By the way, this is the TV show Don Adams Inspector Gadget, not the stupid movie one.
Weapons: His gadgets. I'll probably keep it restricted to only gadgets seen in the cartoon, but I might make up one or two. Nothing extreme, though. I guess what I'll try to do is keep it to gadgets that might possibly be used in the cartoon. Deal? Deal. He won't have a gun or anything designed to be lethal, of course. Also, his gadgets tend to not work exactly as he wants them to, so that's a factor as well.
Personality Breakdown: Inspector Gadget doesn't like killing or really even harming people, so the worst he'll probably ever do to someone is attempt to arrest them as a MAD agent. In defense, he might accidentally kill someone, but it's very unlikely. I'd expect that whenever the heat is on, he'll intentionally or unintentionally (via gadget malfunction) flee from the conflict and attempt to regroup.

Character Name: Ashley "Ash" Williams
Username: Christo
Color: Green
Brief Description/History: Formerly an S-Mart housewares employee, Ash became a demon-slayer of sorts after spending the night in a forest cursed by the Necromonicon, "The Book of the Dead". While fighting off the evil "deadites", his hand was bitten and became possessed, forcing Ash to lob it off at the wrist with a chainsaw that just happened to be handy. He outfitted himself with a chainsaw customized to fit onto his stump, a shotgun and some ammo and managed to open up a rip in time which sends the evil back in time but unfortunately is pulled back himself. Ash landed in 12th century England where the locals claim, according to their prophecies, that he is "The Man That Falls from the Sky" who will save them from the Deadites. He defeated the Army of Darkness and his evil doppelganger and is sent back to his own time, resuming his old job at S-Mart. The whole ordeal has left him rather embittered and arrogant if not a little crazy.
Weapons: He carries two primary weapons: his "boomstick", a sawed-off double-barrel shotgun and more notably the chainsaw strapped to his right arm where his hand used to be. Most of the time his chainsaw will be replaced with a mechanical hand forged from the gauntlet of a medieval suit of armor he built during his stay in the 1300s. He's also an adequate swordsman and fist-fighter although he prefers to have his chainsaw in battle, obviously.
Personality Breakdown: Like I said before, Ash is pretty arrogant and cynical. He doesn't really care for others or at least doesn't let it show and if he helps someone out, he usually has his own interests in mind. While not being particularly smart, Ash has a MacGuyver-like ingenuity. He built a functioning mechanical hand with medieval materials and tools after all. Ash isn't a voice of reason by any means. He's more of a "shoot first and ask questions later" kind of guy. As for the universe in which this OM takes place, the Necromonicon has a way of messing with the mind so perhaps Ash's subconscious will stir up something interesting.

Oh, and Ash going to be spitting out a lot of cheesy one-liners. A lot.

Character Name: Cyborg Ninja
Username: Tacofiend
Color: Blue
Brief Description: A single electronic eye gleams at its enemy from the center of its otherwise featureless faceplate while a form-fitting exoskeleton twitches with each movement of the user’s impeccably honed muscles. A gruff, metallic voice characterizes the Ninja as being male, which is what one would presume it to be. The exoskeleton is distinct in its appearance as denser areas of the suit are plated orange while the rest retains a dark, grayish hue.
Weapons: High-Frequency Blade- a ninja sword fitted with an ultrasonic generator that sends pulses across the blade’s edge, vibrating it and allowing the sword to cut through denser materials such as steel alloys. He is very proficient with this blade and has used it on several occasions to deflect and/or sever bullets. The resonance of his sword has been known to jam specific electronic devices.
Exoskeleton- can withstand heavy impacts and comes equipped with a stealth camouflage feature that makes his body appear transparent with a vague outline and allows him to blend into any environment.
CQC (hand-to-hand)- Cyborg Ninja is a proficient martial artist, fluent in military CQC and ninjutsu. He is also very acrobatic, often executing superfluously convoluted aerial maneuvers in order to evade attacks. His speed is another important asset as he can manage to dodge bullets if he can read the trajectory of the gun.
Personality Breakdown: An enigmatic character of which little is known about his past. It is said that he may have some sort of connection with the American military organization known as FOXHOUND, but that has yet to be confirmed. His faceplate is constantly down, as he is perpetually ready for combat. He lives and breathes only to take his place on the battlefield. He is an astounding creature that lives solely for the heat of battle.

Don't worry. I know he sounds god-modded, but I assure you that I'll make it so that he's definitely engagable.

For those who know the storyline he's from, I would ask that you refrain from trying to establish any sort of backstory without my consent. I don't want to see someone put something like, "Gray Fox?" or whatever. As long as we're clear on that...

Character Name: Daniel Whitcomb

Username: Mushroom Pie

Color: Brown

Brief Description: Whitcomb is an Eliminator, a mercenary of sorts. He's an agent of Them, an extremely secretive organization that essentially controls the world and everything in it. His job is comprised of disposing of those that They have deemed "undesirable." He has messy brown hair and some short scraggly sideburns. He wears a black suit with a black tie, along with shiny black shoes. A gun is concealed underneath his jacket, and a steel watch is strapped to his left wrist. Black sunglasses usually cover up his light brown eyes, and a cigarette is almost perpetually hanging out of his mouth.

Weapons: Whitcomb's primary weapon is a fairly standard-looking handgun.
His watch is also extremely high-tech. The words "DEUS EX CHRONOS" are inscribed along the outside of it, and it's pretty accurate; the watch has a seemingly endless number of gadgets concealed within it, even things that don't seem like they could fit. The only thing it definitely cannot do is tell time. For the sake of game balance, and for the sake of not stepping on Dave's toes, the watch won't be abused, and will mostly keep to a few basic things: extra clips for the gun, a grappling hook, walkie-talkie, that sort of thing. The gun is also capable with interfacing and combining with the watch for certain things.
Whitcomb's sunglasses are sensitive to light, and will darken to accommodate sudden bursts of bright light. If necessary, they will even become opaque.
Finally, even disarmed, Whitcomb's a sizeable threat. He has an extremely extensive repertoire of hand-to-combat abilities, and is proficient at many different forms of martial arts.

Personality Breakdown: Whitcomb is generally apathetic and detached, taking a very casual approach to everything. He isn't easily angered, but when he is it takes a lot to calm him again. He generally only appreciates people to the extent of which they're useful to him, and is very slow to have much more than a professional or somehow necessary relationship with someone else, and will usually readily betray alliances if it is to his benefit. Despite this, he's a generally likable person and will not harm someone simply for the sake of doing so.

Character: The Children

User: Sharp

Color: Indigo (Dark Red looks too much like Brown, sorry Sharp)

Bio: A swarm of hundreds, possibly thousands of abnormally large leeches. The Children seem to have some order to them, showing nothing to suggest free will in individual leeches.

Weapons: The Children have the ability to latch onto a victim and suck blood. Being large, however, makes them an easy target, and unlikely to drain even an average grown man before he gets to safety. The children are able to change their skin pigmentation, making it a simple task for them to climb upon each other to make an almost fully functional creature, with a few differences, such as the ability to stretch limbs, and of course, the feel of the skin/clothes. All together, The Children are able to swarm into a creature the size of an asian elephant.

Personality Breakdown: The Children cooperate through a hive mind. They are all able to see through each other's eyes, and cooperate as if they were a single organism. On the downside, they feel everything the others feel, to a certain degree. Together, their intelligence seems somewhat subhuman, but still intelligent enough to have distinct emotions. They comfort their loved, they mourn their losses, and are able to understand situations well enough to know who the bad guy is. A single man seems to command the leeches somewhat, but it is not readily apparent whether it is an actual man or a cluster of leeches around another sentient being.

Ok, that's everyone! The game begins...
_________________
Come into my den let me hear you cluck
You can be my hen and we can f(Bu-GAWK)
A bite to the leg, it's time to play
Baby, let me be your egg that needs to get laid.
- CEO Nwabudike Morgan
"The Chicken of Lust"

[Its_The_Sneak!!!]

Far outside our universe, in the deepest, darkest of dimensions, lay another universe completely without form. Matter and energy drifted ceaselessly through it, with no laws to guide them. An endless expanse of void surrounded the cloud of particles, completely neglected by God or Man. This universe sat, idly waiting for a master to arrive and manipulate it.
Inter-dimensional portals are weaknesses in reality. They can be caused by a variety of means, such as the collision of three neutrinos inside an electron. The electron's structure is then destabilized, resulting in a cascading failure of the other electrons, then the core of the atom, then the other atoms around it, mostly following along the most dense path. The destabilization bonds the broken electrons to those in other dimensions. The mostly spherical portal continues to grow until the electrons can stabilize, at which point the bond is severed and the portal immediately disappears. Every atom that bonded to the other dimension is flipped through when the portal closes. Instances of these portals are very rare. It has been probabilistically determined that only twelve of these portals occur every trillion years throughout the entire known universe.
So it would stand that the five people involved had the misfortune of having the almost one in a googol chance event happen to them all simultaneously, all bonding to the same universe. They appeared to have vanished into thin air, leaving no traces behind.
One such person was standing in his living room, pondering his new furniture arrangement.
"Well, I'm not sure I like the new look," he lamented to the man standing on the far side of the couch. "But it does leave plenty of room in the center for moving around."
"Yes, that's right, Inspector Gadget, sir," replied the lanky man, wringing his hands. "Feng Shui is all about moving furniture to the sides of the room. The energy has to have a clean path to flow."
"But should the sofa be blocking the doorway like this?"
"Sir, I've had years of training in Feng Shui. That couch would be detrimental to energy flow if it was anywhere else!"
"Well, if you say so..."
Outside, the man's niece, Penny, was arriving home from school. The man's trusty dog Brain was out in the yard to greet her.
Back inside, the furniture arranger excused himself to make a phone call. Inspector Gadget plopped down on the sofa to admire the new sense of space.
"Yes, Dr. Claw," whispered the Feng Shui expert into the phone. "Gadget buys it. I've got every door blocked. He'll never be able to get out of his house now!"
"Perfect!" roared a deep voice from the other end. "Now we can petition the city to build a highway through the area, and they'll bulldoze Gadget!"
Penny and Brain approached the front door. Brain's pet door refused to give way, owing to the couch on the far side. After pushing on it gently a few times, Brain reasoned that the door was merely stuck, and a harder blow would force it to give way. The dog backed up several feet from the door to facilitate this.
Inside, the M.A.D. Agent came to a startling conclusion.
"But Dr. Claw!" he sputtered into the telephone. "How will I get out?"
The response was only cackling, punctuated by a cat hissing in approval.
Brain hit the pet door with a full running start, and then hit the bookshelf on the far wall inside. As the books began to fall on the poor pooch, the M.A.D. Agent rounded the corner looking for an escape. His mind reeled when he saw the unblocked door.
"He's... he's gone!"

holding onto his couch for dear life, the Inspector gazed into the empty void surrounding him. He could make out four other humanoid shapes looming in the darkness. The universe fed off their screaming minds. The memories of where they were and what they knew flowed into each other, canceling parts out, amplifying others. The thoughts averaged out into one, and the universe stirred. Matter and energy flew together, creating a new place. This new environment was created for and by the people inside it, without their even thinking about it.
One common thought the five had shared during their brief glimpses into the void was a simple Where am I?
The universe responded to this thought by granting them a memory that explained exactly where they were. Each person suddenly knew that they were in a psychically malleable universe, and that once all other people were removed, they would be in perfect control of the place. They also were made to understand the problem of psychic interference. Everyone in the universe knew that control was not possible until there was only one person left alive.
After this, the environment came together. Overall, it was a place nobody would recognize, but it contained distinct parts from everyone's experience, blended. Air and water were created, as was a firmament for the sky. This first area was indeed a flat area. A rectangular, indestructible chain-link fence surrounded the arena. At one end of the rectangle stood a brick building resembling a beer distillery. At the opposite end stood a metallic building resembling an oil refinery. Between the two stood four sets of train tracks. Between the two middle tracks stood a wide canal, spanned by two bridges. The water flowed from one end of the canal to the other, but as it touched the fence, it disappeared. The two middle tracks also had crossing signals. Once or twice an hour, these signals would activate, heralding a train. The trains consisted only of an engine and one or two cars. They'd breeze through at fifty miles per hour, appearing at one end of the track and vanishing at the other. Outside the fence, the pure white ground stretched until it met the sky-dome.
Inspector Gadget sat on his couch inside the beer distillery. The universe had told him that the couch would remain unless he forgot about it, at which point it would be cannibalized into the universe. Knowing how forgetful he could be, he wasn't inclined to leave it just yet. Instead, he merely sat upon it, trying to take in what had just happened to him.
"Wowsers," he muttered.
_________________
Come into my den let me hear you cluck
You can be my hen and we can f(Bu-GAWK)
A bite to the leg, it's time to play
Baby, let me be your egg that needs to get laid.
- CEO Nwabudike Morgan
"The Chicken of Lust"

[Sharp]

Unreserved due to House.

[Mushroom Pie]

Whitcomb shook out the fire coming out of his watch and took a long drag off of his cigarette.

Sweet carcinogenic bliss.

He was sitting with his back to a large piece of machinery. He had ended up in a factory of some sort, and the whole place carried the vaguest sense of nostalgia, even though he was certain he'd never been there before. The scent of oil filled his nostrils as he looked up at the white light pouring in through the window, filtering in through his nearly clear sunglasses.

This place seemed nice. Certainly better than where he had come from, and the poor bastard that he had been getting ready to shoot probably became ecstatic upon seeing his killer vanish into thin air. Everyone had come out a winner. His only regret was that he didn't have any other cigarettes on him.

Something caught Whitcomb's attention suddenly, and he looked down to see the folds of his pocket shift imperceptibly. Reaching into it, his eyes widened as he felt something small and papery. He immediately pulled out his hand and grinned like an idiot when he found another cigarette in it.

He was going to like this place.

Curiosity setting in, he put the new cigarette away from later and tended to his watch, tapping a few buttons on the outside of it. The face of the watch crackled to life, but nothing but static was coming through on the tiny circular screen. As he had suspected, he had completely lost communication with his superiors.

"A world without Them," he mused silently as he took another drag on the cigarette. "I wonder how that will turn out."

A distant noise caught his ear suddenly, breaking the quiet serenity of the factory abruptly. It was the squeaking of an old door hinge, followed by a number of slow, echoing footsteps. Whitcomb instinctively pulled his gun out of his neatly-pressed suit jacket and gripped it tightly with both hands. Pushing his weight against the machinery he was leaning on, he silently got to his feet, crept along the corner, and leaped out, gun trained on the man who had just entered.
_________________

[Its_The_Sneak!!!]

[Christo]

That pre-lab took a lot longer to do than I anticipated.

So uh... unreservered.
_________________

You're a nut! You're crazy in the coconut!

[Sharp]

What part of this place caters to leeches?

Whatever, I'll just add a sewer system for them.

[Its_The_Sneak!!!]

the canal?
_________________
Come into my den let me hear you cluck
You can be my hen and we can f(Bu-GAWK)
A bite to the leg, it's time to play
Baby, let me be your egg that needs to get laid.
- CEO Nwabudike Morgan
"The Chicken of Lust"

[Sharp]

There will be a small pipe jutting out of the wall between the canals leading to a small sewers. I'll have the leeches pour in through there.

[Mushroom Pie]

[Its_The_Sneak!!!]

[Sharp]

*canal walls

[Tacofiend]

Not sure if I should reserve tonight... I don't think I have it in me to write something out. Someone else reserve and post since I'm lazy.
_________________

[Its_The_Sneak!!!]

ugh, tomorrow I can post again... the day after, Mushpie...

this game died quick.
_________________
Come into my den let me hear you cluck
You can be my hen and we can f(Bu-GAWK)
A bite to the leg, it's time to play
Baby, let me be your egg that needs to get laid.
- CEO Nwabudike Morgan
"The Chicken of Lust"

[Christo]

“Sure, I could've stayed in the past,” boasted Ash, sliding along the park bench toward the blonde-haired bombshell who had made the mistake of sitting next to him. “I could've even been king.” The blonde was obviously not impressed. She turned up the volume on her walkman and scooted down to the very edge of the bench. Ash, not one to be discouraged, went in for the kill. With one hand reaching around her waist and his other cradling her neck he gazed directly into her eyes and spoke. “Hail to the king, baby.” He closed his eyes with a slight grin, knowing he'd be tasting her strawberry flavored lip gloss any second He was somewhat disappointed when the only thing to grace his lips was a slap across his face followed by the clacking of high heels on the sidewalk. “Aw come on, babe!” pleaded Ash. The woman quickened her pace and made a certain obscene gesture with one of her fingers. “Bitch,” he muttered. “She wasn't even that good looking anyhow.” This was a lie. He watched her out of the corner of his eye while she marched off, taking in what could've been one last time. When she was too far away for him to make out her curves he leaned back and closed his eyes. I guess that line really only works after you've saved the girl from some unspeakable evil.

When he opened his eyes again he noticed something very peculiar. The grass, the trees and the park were all gone. He turned and saw that the blonde was gone too. Hell, everything was gone. Well, everything but him and the bench he was sitting on. Ash sat there, floating in a pit of endless nothing and suddenly he came to the only logical conclusion as to what was going on. “All right you decrepit little demon-book,” he called out to void that enveloped him. “What did you do? Where the hell am-” The answer came to him before he could pose the question. His assumption was wrong. The Necromonicon played no role in his current predicament. He had been transported to another dimension where physical reality is controlled by the subconscious mind.

“Not again,” he groaned. “As if being hurled through time and space once in a lifetime wasn't enough.”

As the new universe formed he was given knowledge of four others who were brought here as well and all of reality would be in control of the one who managed to survive the longest. He could tell that this was going to get very ugly, very soon. Ash reached under his seat for the duffel bag containing his weapons, praying that they were taken through the portal with him. He breathed a sigh of relief when his fingertips touched nylon. Back on earth, he kept it with him in case of another deadite attack but he figured a chainsaw and boomstick would work just as well on whoever or whatever attacked him here.

Ash stood up as soon as the world around seemed to be stable and holstered his shotgun. Taking a survey of his surroundings, he found that he was on a sort of overhang with a set of stairs descending into a large room filled with pipelines and stacks of rusted oil drums. The hiss of distant machines and the pungent odor of gasoline filled the air around him. Some sort of oil refinery, he supposed. At least my chainsaw won't be running out of gas any time soon. He followed the steel staircase to the concrete ground below. “I guess should probably find those other guys before they find me,” he reasoned. Ash wandered around the facility's hallways, cautiously opening doors he came across and trying to keep quiet. No matter how lightly he stepped however, the sound of his feet hitting the cold concrete floor and steel grates were echoed and amplified throughout the empty environs, alerting anyone who might be nearby of his presence. The hum and hiss of machines faded into silence as he crept further through the building. Soon he found door marked "Crude Oil Processing" and decided to take a peek inside. The door's window was smeared and dusty but he could make out what seemed to be a man's shadow on floor. Ash turned the dusty knob as slowly as he could manage and gently leaned into the old, rusted door. Despite his best attempts, it let out a loud squeal in protest. "Shit!" Ash whispered, cringing at the sound. "You'd think in a place like this they'd oil the hinges more often." He slipped through the partly open door and closed it behind him. He made sure to keep quiet this time but the shadow he had spotted earlier was already missing. All Ash could do was mutter a silent "uh-oh" before a snappy dresser with a gun appeared from around the corner, aiming for his head.
_________________

You're a nut! You're crazy in the coconut!