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2042

2042

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DEAD (a WORD to the WISE, be CAREFUL who you LET onto YOUR roleplay)

1,710 readers have visited 2042 since MadHatter created it.

Introduction

2042

Mankind is at it's peak. We have no more need for fossil fuels, as we are running off of cleaner methods. There is one central Government, in control of almost all of the planet. We have climbed to the top of our technological mountain, and we are still climbing. We have machines that make our lives easier, from automated cars to machines that help you pick out your clothes.

But we are not satisfied. We continue to reach, towards the only technology that we have yet to create: Artificial Intelligence. This ability to create virtual life has for so long eluded our grasp, but we are close to seizing it.


August 30th, 2038:
The first A.I. (artificial intelligence) is created. It is named G.A.I.A. (Globally Arrayed Independent Automation). The machine's intellect starts out slowly, with as much knowledge as a 6 year old child. But after being plugged into the Internet, it's mental capacity began to grow rapidly, quickly gaining a level of intellect that had never been seen before on earth.

May 12th, 2039:
The Government begins to create A.I.s at a rapid rate, quickly putting them in charge of almost all computers, plugging them all into one massive hub, with G.A.I.A. at the center. The government begins to try and synthesize a organic body to house an A.I.

June 28th, 2040:
The first organic A.I. is created. It appears to be a man: flesh, blood, organs, muscle, sinew, a brain. But there is a mechanical layer underneath it all, housing an A.I. Mankind has successfully produced the first artificial human.

December 1st, 2040:
The government begins to create more of the Synths (Synthetic Humans), creating them to place in The Program, a sort of a "Secret Police", tasked with neutralizing all threats against the Government. The program is an instant success, and rumors begin to spread about these death machines.

April 19th, 2042: The Program is still in affect, taking on a more sinister role. The Synths are being used against civilians, murdering and kidnapping them in broad daylight. The Machines have control of most aspects of life, ranging from private business to the military. The Government is closing it's grip on society, restricting human freedoms. The machines are slowly taking over. A resistance has begun.



Info

This is a future society, set in the year of 2042. The Government is in control of almost everything, which means the A.I.s have control over everything. Most humans are peaceful, happy to squeeze out a living in this world. Almost all humans share a dislike of A.I.s and the Synths, but aren't really willing to do anything about it. There is a rebellion, but it is not large enough yet to be a real problem. The Synths and Agents are trying to dismantle the Resistance, and civilians are just trying to stay out of the crossfire. The plot of this story does not revolve around the Rebellion, but more on the lives of the characters.

There are three main factions: The Government (A.I.s, Synths, etc.), The Resistance, and the civilians. The Government controls almost everything, with an iron fist. The resistance is fairly new, and has just started to become a nuisance to the Government. And civilians are just that, civilians. There is no real middle ground. You are something, or your something else. There aren't any Agents that are Rebel fighters on the side. Once you choose a side, you are that side. There is no in between.

Factions

The Government: A system of rule that spans Earth, or what's left of it. They are responsible for creating the A.I.s and the Synthetic Humans. They have recently become oppressive, using their Synths to rule their empire with an iron fist. They are led by the Chairman, an official that, once elected, leads for life. The second in command is G.A.I.A., the world's first A.I. They have begun to imprison people at an alarming rate, mostly for plotting with the resistance. Most of the people they capture are innocent, and are simply being used to keep other civilians in line.

Synthetic Humans (Synths): They are genetically grown bodies, made for the purpose of housing an A.I. that can control the body. They look, smell, and act like humans, making them almost impossible to pick out of a crowd. they are the Government's most valuable assets, and act as the "Secret Police", killing those who get in the Government's way. They are fast, strong, and deadly. They are called Death Machines for a reason. Most people who fight a Synth toe-to-toe end up dead. If you're lucky, you can outrun them.

Agents: The work horses of the Government. They are the Government's lackeys and serve as the police inside of Greater Metropolis. The Agents are tasked with dismantling the Resistance, and keeping the mega-city's streets clean of crime. More like a military than a task force, they use brutal tactics and big guns to keep the City's populace in line.

The Resistance: A movement that started in The Slum, the third level of the City. At first it was peaceful, trying to petition the Government for better working and living conditions. Eventually they realized the Government wouldn't listen to them, so they selected a leader and became hostile. They set up their head quarters somewhere on the ground level, inside one of the many caves there. They began to launch raids on Government offices and facilities , finally attracting the Government's attention.

You are going to choose to be one of the following:

Civilian: neutral, Human
Agent: Government, Human
Synth: Government, A.I., Artificial Human
Rebel Fighter: Resistance, Human

Skeleton:
Name:
Alias:
Age:
Gender:
Occupation/Faction:
Description (This is where a picture would go, along with a worded description):
Personality:
Equipment:
History:

The RP will start when I get around four people.

Toggle Rules

1. No Godmodding.

2. Be literate. (Seriously, I mean it.)

3. At least a paragraph per post, and at least one post per week.

4. Be fair, and don't argue.

5. There can be only so many of each character, exspecially the Synths.

6. The roleplay is in the third person.

7. To help understand the layout of Greater Metropolis, please just skim over it in the "Places" section.

8. if you have any problems, post to the OCC, and I'll try to sort them out.

Browse All » 3 Settings to roleplay in

Resistance HQ

Resistance HQ by RolePlayGateway

The underground headquarters of the Resistance.

Greater Metro, 2042

Greater Metro, 2042 by MadHatter

A massive city, spanning most of what was the United States. The city has five levels, each one getting progressively worse.

The Program

The Program by RolePlayGateway

The birthplace of one of Man's greatest achievements... or one of their worst blunders?

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 6 authors

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Stinger sat in a cave on the Terra. He smoked a cigarette and looked out thinking. The Resistance had come a long way from a disorganized force into a real war machine they were armed to the teeth. In total the whole group had killed maybe 5 A.I. Stinger couldn't be sure because the news never reported them and his memory sucked. He was rich enough to be in the Skylight but he wasn't he hid here to plan operations to take out the A.I. He threw his cigarette on the cavern's floor and wiped it out with the heel of his boot. He scratched at his stubble. Where was that girl when he needed her. He couldn't say for sure but he didn't think it mattered. Aslong as she was on her way here.

Stinger observed the cave. Besides the Mounted guns and armory stash and computers it could be a normal cave. Bats had lived in it until Stinger and few others cleared it out. He now sat in a spinning chair. His back ached and he had a bad cut on his arm. He was fighting a couple of human agents and got injured. But he never had a rough face like most resistance. His Mohawk made people think he was good natured. This was true for Resistance but if you were an Agent he could be cold. He was known by them for developing a trick for finding out who were A.I's.


He noticed they were socially awkard most of them time. They also didn't smile alot. They were straight faced. Even the spies of the A.I weren't amazing at pretending. But then again a few were. The Resistance nearly crumbled when it was weak when a spy of the A.I had breached Resistance forces. Stinger barely lived to see another day. He killed the thing but had a nasty bullet entry scar on his leg and a scar on the bridge of his nose. He wasn't the type to trust easy since then.

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Kyle walked the busy streets of the Metro. He weaved his way in and out of the crowds of people walking the streets, stopping to look at stalls that were selling useless merchandise. He glanced around the crowded street. There were at least 185 Civilians on this street alone, and a dozen Agents in full Riot gear. One Agent spotted him and gave him a nod. Kyle continued down the street, stopping at some of the kiosks that dotted the walkway. He continued on like this for another half hour, glancing around to try and spot his target.

Kyle stopped at a kiosk selling cell phones. He picked up a cell phone and began to look at the features. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted him. 5'9", shaved head, very thin, with a tattoo on his neck. Their eyes met at the same time, and they stared at each other for a second. Then, his target turned around and began to run down the street, knocking over people and displays. Kyle dropped the cell phone in his hand, and by the time it hit the ground, he had already closed up a third of the distance between them, which had been about 100 meters. His target was running as fast as he could, and was barely staying ahead of Kyle. The target veered off into a gap in between two buildings, disappearing from Kyle's line of sight. He followed him in, and saw the man at the other end of the alleyway. With blinding speed, Kyle whipped the silenced pistol from his bag, took aim, and shot the man high in the left leg, all in about a second and a half. The man crumpled at the end of the alley, and laid there moaning, clutching his leg.

Kyle strode down the alley, taking his sweet time. The man wasn't going anywhere. He holstered his pistol and stood over the man. "William Travis, A.K.A. Bill Traveler, A.K.A. Boomer, you are under arrest for the detonation of an explosive in Detainment Center 24-6. You are also charged with Treason, plotting to overthrow the Government, and the deaths. of two Government Agents." Kyle pulled out his work phone and made a call. "I got Travis. In an alley on Sector B, Quadrant 86. Yes, Sir. I will stay with the criminal until the Agents arrive." Kyle hung up the phone and looked back at the whimpering man on the floor. "You are going to be transported to Detainment Center 48-2 for interrogation, then execution. Two Agents will be here to pick you up in a matter of minutes. If you resist, you will be killed on the spot." Kyle pulled a pair of riot cuffs out of his bag and secured the prisoner. He then leaned up against the wall and waited for the Agents to arrive.

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Stinger said fuck it and finished his cigarette. He was up at Metro now. He saw Boomer being arrested by agents. He hid behind a building and took the safety off of his glock. He treaded up the alley way. Most of these g. One spoke in the voice of someone who thought he was in Authority. That had to be the A.I. He knew he wouldn't be able to kill them. So he threw a smoke grenade.


" I am gettin' too old for this shit mate!" He screamed firing his glock at the A.I as he ran foward. He went to grab Boomer and slid. He rolled quickly and ran up the alley. Looks like it was time to fry that bitch. He shot an eletrical cable above the A.I and prayed it was long enough to give that guy one helluva shock and overload the system. "Boomer Hurry up!" He said turning as Agents came running. He fired at them and killed one. Stinger Dropped a flash as a frag grenade shot sharpnel into his right hand. Thank god he was leftie. He didn't turn back and ran panting heavily.


He grew more tired and knew he couldn't out run them. He ran through a person's house. He knocked down the door to see a family watching TV. They ran off away begging him not to hurt them. He jumped through the Kitchen Window. He landed and sprained his ankle. He couldn't feel it due to the adreline going through his system. He was near the entrance to slums. He ran to it panting heavily. He hoped Boomer got away. He heard bullets and turned his head to see the bullets whizz past him. They were gaining on him. " I am too old for this damn shit!" He screeched sliding down into the Slums and now cut through a market place.



An agent had caught up with him. He hid behind some watermelons. The agents held out a assualt rifle looking for him. Stinger took one step foward and lay underneath the wheel barrow. The man fired at the wall behind Stinger and stood to Stingers front. Stinger took out his knife. He cut the mans foot and rolled out of the bottom and stabbed the man in the neck. " I am heading back to the Terra." He said to anyone who was on the Radio broadcasts for the Resistance.

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The extraction team came three minutes late. Metro traffic was a bitch. They parked the government car outside the market and entered on foot. Vladimir and Charles forced their way through the dense crowed. Both men wore hefty, black body armor and partial visors. Charles stroked the high-powered electron rifle they frequently used to take down runners.

A bullet ricocheted deadly close to Vladimir. He spun, catching a fleeting image of Stinger in his helmet IR sensor. The image was gone before he could draw his service pistol. So they continued through the crowd and into the alley, tensed and ready to open hell. The sight of Kyle and his very wounded agent brought some relief. He would be easy.

"Nice catch, toaster." They both laughed. "Us two will do the rest. Bag 'em Vlad."

Vladimir slipped a black burlap sack over the captive's head. He grabbed the zip ties and jerked the captive's arms up high. Travis winced. "No sonny, I'm not letting 'em down."

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Stinger barely got away. He was now at Terra and had a pair of pliers. He tried to remove the Sharpnel from his hand. " CRAP!" He screeched has it came out and his hand started bleeding. "They nearly caught me." He wiped the sweat from his face and sat down and turned on a Television in the Cave. He had one helluva job getting eletricity in a cave. He somehow managed it thought. Stinger was good at doing the impossible. He watched the news cast.


"A resistance member known only has Stinger has done another act of eviliness. He tried to help another Resistance memeber known has Boomer,whose real name's William Travis. The rescue failed but Stinger got away and has seriously injured an agent. This man is the most wanted criminal in Metro...he's armed and dangerous. If you know anything please share it with the Government." The newsman said and Stinger turned off the Television.

" Why the hell is this place so quiet today? It's normally bustling with people." He said to himself has he got on his computer. He looked over a internet News cast on the same incident. He saw that it named the Prison Boomer was going too. " Anyone on Radio Communications I am playing a covert op to get Boomer out of a government prison. I need the best people we got. I need people who want to help fight against the system. I would like an A.I Defector if I can get one. I also need an innocent looking person perferred girl to get us inside. I also need some guys with balls. Stinger Over & and out." Stinger broadcasted as he walked to a bed.


" I know just the people too." He said thinking of the people he could put up to it. He respected Boomer alot and found the guy to be a good man. He had to get him out of Jail now. He had a plan in mind for it. The innocent girl would sneak inside with Explosives and blow up a guard tower giving some breathing space for the men with balls. An A.I Defector would fight the other A.I's alongside with Stinger. They would fight up to Boomer and rescue him. That might just work, thought Stinger. He fell asleep on the bed.

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Just as Stinger laid his head down to rest a soft mechanical whir sounded in the corner. Whatever Stingers reaction it would be folly for him to not look in the corner. When he did he would see a singular bright blue light. A quiet voice spoke from the darkness of the corner.

"Stinger. High-ranking member of the civilian resistance. Wanted for treason and more than seven other crimes against the government." The blue light rose up and started to wander towards Stinger, bobbing with the motion that came with bipedal walking. "Coordinator and conspirator, currently planning the escape of William Travis, alias: Boomer." If there was a light, the young man stepped into it. He had a deathly pallor made all the more pale by his stark white hair. One of his eyes and one of his arms were cybernetic, no organic coverings or anything to allow him to blend in. His remaining eye was wide and seemed to have a constant worry or fear within it.

"Broadcasts from multiple sources state that Stinger wishes to destroy the current government. A sentiment shared by several, including the individual standing before you now." His previous sentences seemed to be addressed to no one. The last one he had just declared was addressed directly to Stinger.

"Cooperation furthers mutual goals. . . ." Said the boy. His eyes flickered about, in different directions too like a chameleon. Seeming to be unable to focus on one thing at a time.

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Stinger dreamed that had been caught by the government. The A.I he saw eariler was cutting him up and he screamed for help. Boomer was dead in a corner and the rest of them were burning. He woke up with a startle and saw a Blue Light and noticed it was An A.I." At least your not here to kill me then. So you must be an ally. But I warn you. Make no hostile moves. Stinger told Michael as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

He trusted the A.I Prototype because he wasn't dead. Stinger trusted him which was a big step for him. He didn't trust any other A.I. He took out a cigarette and smoked. " I got hurt. Did you see the news? They are after me mate. I am too old for this bull shit." He said touching his mohawk and patting it down. He took a drag and stood up and got a paper which showed the plan to bust Boomer out. " Take it and tell me if you want to join okay? I am going to watch the news.

Rodger did watch the news. Nothing was new had been reported. He had to admit he was rather embrassed by his actions. He hadn't meant to catch such attention. He was Rusty. Old Age was catching up. He wanted to retain his youth which was why he did these things. Stinger did amazing things in his youth like being the first person to kill an A.I. He also helped start the Resistance. He saw that the history channel had a docoumentary on his actions. The Title was: The face of Guerrilla Warfare. He laughed at that.

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Alissa scanned the streets, her black square glasses currently in heat vision mode. It was one of the gadgets she begged Stinger to make her, along with a camera that knocked people unconcious and getting a shot before it did. The camera hung loosely over her hoodie, idle. She had watched the scene and listened to Stinger's request. She could be innocent, right?

She laughed to herself, walking down the street.

She walked by the alley the A.I. was in with Boomer, muttering to herself. She snapped a picture of the Agent, knocking him out. She stated to run, turning around a corner. She guessed she could be caught with injuring an Agent, which wasn't much. She was almost caught, going into the Slums. She was covered with some older boys she knew, and the brothers in her family. She got into Terra, walking down to the cave. She didn't know what she'd say when she got there, but she soon figured out.

"Who are you?"

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Stinger laughed as Alissa asked the person was. " Well that one's obvious I am Stinger. I made you those nifty glasses lass. But in all seriousiness this person is an A.I on our side. This much is true other wise I would be dead or he would be. Did you see what happened. Got a damn peice of sharpnel in my hand. If only I brought a big gun instead of the Glock. He wouldn't need to get Boomed he would be with us. But life is far from fair other wise this wouldn't be where I am living it up. I am rich enough to live on level five. Instead I am spending lots of money on this group. Did you see the History channel documentary on me? Accordingly I am the face of Guerillia Warfare."

" Still though your going to help me save Boomer? Your very tricky. If only I was your age. But alas I am not lass. I am old man with a hair due out of style. You know a kid said he wanted to be like me? I asked him why would he want an old geezer. He told me he loved the Mohawk." Stinger said rapidly. He always joked that if he was Alissa's age the two would probably be in love. He something out of his backpack.

" Here's that thing you asked for. You remember The Watch gun. Tells time and shoots two 44. caliber rounds. Also heres the water bottle bomb." He said handing her a tin bottle that had two pounds of explosives. " Your lucky I am rich as hell Alissa." Stinger said to her and he took out one final object. " This is my own invention. A Hair comb Tranquilzer. There's a button on the handle the shoots out the spike that have two milimeters of the strongest sedatives I could find. A good distance of about two yards." Stinger showed her smiling.

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The cyborg nodded "This individual shall not perform attempts of assassination or cause physical harm to Stinger." Michael said in a very dry monotone, almost like a computer. He followed Stinger out of the room when he left to meet Alissa and took up residence in the darkest corner he could find.

"Who are you?" said Alissa. The cyborg prepared to speak but was cut off by Stingers monologue so he simply waited. When Stinger was done he spoke

"Prototype experiment. 'Michael Hawthorn' organic supercomputer, serial code TRKL700624." He said. One eye focused on Alissa's face, the other continued to flit about, gathering information at incredible rates. "Original purpose: GAIA database. Current allegiance: Civilian resistance. Current purpose dictated by civilian resistance leader: Stinger" His voice was dry, lacking emotion and didn't seem to be addressed to anyone accept the open air. He wasn't even looking at anyone but his eyes continued flitting about in different directions. It was almost comical to watch.

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"Good God. Why can't they just leave everything alone?" Laura commented, patted down a stack of twenties and placing them neatly in her drawer. Cynthia wasn't sure how to respond. She knew them. She knew it first hand. The look in their eyes, the determination in their voices as they vowed to right all the injustices. It was a look and sound she couldn't bare to see again. Instead of saying anything, she shrugged her slim shoulders and placed her precisely organized bills inside the gray envelope that would be sent promptly to her manager. For a moment, her dark gray eyes turned slowly up to the television screen, watching the Agents, A.I. and civilians all get caught up in a cause she was still uncomfortable with.

"You're awfully quiet about it, Cyn." Turning to look at her co-worker, Cynthia suddenly felt threatened.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked calmly, zipping up the envelope with more fervor than her eyes let out. Laura just shrugged her shoulders, either to mock her previous silent remark, or to appear cautious. With a growl of indignation, Cynthia grabbed up her envelopes, change bags, and walked away toward the office.

It was a few minutes later that she was walking away from her booth in the bank with a jacket and her tote. The great elevators that took all the middle class folk to their territory was just about to close as she made her way quickly into the mass of people stuffed inside. Slowly, Cynthia watched the sky above slowly disappear beneath the mass of buildings and into the bottom of the Skyline, the only horizon her daughter would see. It broke her heart a little every day to know that Julia may never see the sky she was so advantageous to see every day at work.

As she made her way through the bustling streets of the Metro, she stopped in front of a little school with painted pictures in the windows. Opening the door she was greeted with the smell of cookies and milk, little kids, and glue. The daycare teacher was bustling the children about getting their coats and crafts. She looked up and smiled when she saw Cynthia.

"Julia is over there." She mouthed and continued on with her job. Looking over toward the window, Julia sat calmly, watching the people pass by without looking down and noticing her.

"Julie." Cynthia whispered and her daughter, with round crystalline eyes, looked over at her mother and the smile made all the day's happenings disappear. There was so rebellion, no one was dying, her idiot husband would still be home waiting for them to walk through the door. Her daughter stood up and wrapped her little, chubby arms around her neck and hugged her with all her might. Picking her up, Cynthia left out the door and headed home.

"Paint, Ma!" She announced and showed the piece of paper with an array of bright colors on it.

"Oh wow! That's gorgeous!" Nothing could do anything to stop this feeling of absolute joy. Too much was right for her and Julia. All she wanted was to live comfortably and make her daughter as happy as possible.

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Kyle sat in the back of the Prisoner Transporter, sitting directly across from Bill Travis.Kyle had a burn on his face from where the attacker, which had been identified as " The Stinger", had thrown a live wire into his face. No problem, really. Kyle thought, A quick spray of Synth Skin and I'll be good as new. The prisoner's head bobbed up and down inside the blackout bag, quietly crying. Whether it was because of the gunshot wound, or the prison he was heading to, Kyle couldn't be sure. They were transporting the prisoner to Detainment Center 48-2, or as it was known in the criminal underworld, "The Grinder". It was called that because anyone taken into the Center had a tendency to come out no more than dead bio-waste. Almost all the prisoners inside Center 48-2 were there to be executed.

About two hours later; Kyle, Bill Travis, and a Splicer were in an interrogation room. The Splicers were some of the Government's more nasty employees. Hired solely to torture, interrogate, and then kill prisoners. And the methods they did this in was rather unpleasant. First, they would interrogate the subject, and if that didn't work, the torture would begin. The Splicers enjoyed using knives, electroshock, and branding irons to extract information. And if none of that worked, then the Splicers got to use their favorite toy, a machine that could "hack" into the human brain and steal information. using a 6" long probe, they would drill into a subject's skull (and ultimately the brain), insert the probe, and use extreme electric shocks to extract the information. This process usually obliterated the subject's mind, leaving it no more that a liquid mess inside their head. A rather nasty business that Kyle hated to watch.

The Splicer approached Travis. "Normally, we would interrogate you first, but we are short on time. so I will ask you once, and only once- where is the Resistance located?" The Splicer leaned over Travis, leering into the frightened man's face. Suddenly, Bill spat into the Splicer's face and yelled" I'd rather die before I betrayed the Resistance!" The Splicer wiped the spittle of his face and retreived something from his bag. The Splicer turned around, holding a drill and a probe connected to a hand-held computer. "Very well, the hard way then." Kyle quickly turned and walked out of the room, but not quick enough to avoid hearing William Travis' screams, and the sound of a drill boring through bone.

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Alissa smiled, knowing Stinger would have what she wanted. "I used your camera... again." she knew last time Stinger had to save her stupid ass, but she was glad she didn't need his help this time. She put the weapons in her bag, along with the camera. She ignored the A.I., having no respect for them except the Restistance leader A.I.s, who were way above her. "You know, I heard that a way they torture criminals in the Griner is that they probe them in the skull, turning their brain to mush and getting the information. Hope they didn't do that to Boomer." Even the newest of the Resistance members knew were the main HQ was located. She grabbed her laptop, the red light boring into her eye.

She did have an important job. Since she looked innocent- well, mostly- she was trusted with the laptop with all Restistance information. She first had to give a blood sample and go through many tests and papers. She pushed the button where the CD would go, motioning to the A.I. "Put your finger there, Hawthorn."

She motioned to a small pad that had come from the CD place. She watched, the DNA coming from his human arm. "A.I. Michael Hawthorn, in the System" sounded after she typed his name. She smiled, looking through the list. She came upon her boyfriend, Jason Wilkes, and a tear dropped from her eye. He was caught by the Agents, and she never heard if he was still alive. She shut down the laptop, grabbing a small blue pad and pen from her bag.

She wrote down the information, leaving the pad in Stinger's hands.

    I need a few things, if you could.
  • knife hidden in a cell phone
  • lazer in lipstick
  • sword in mascara
  • bomb in gum packet?
    Thank you kindly

Alissa walked out the cave, going into the Slums. The Agents proably thought she was just a prankster, but just as a precaution, but she stayed in the Slums. She found new boyfriend Spike, who she ran to from behind and hugged. He laughed, flipping her over. They kissed, sitting on a bench.

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Michael did as requested. Although something strange happened when the base profile was constructed and displayed on the screen. The text detailing Michael's profile seemed to. . . be writing itself. Michael stared intently at the computer, he never stared intently at anything so it was somewhat odd to see him transfixed in this manner. There was an obvious correlation and after a few moments he spoke.

"This individual is not an artificial intelligence, nor an artificial intelligence platform. To call Michael as such is invalid. Do not do so again." he said frankly, a touch of irritation creeping into his last sentence.

"Is this the only resistance database available?" He asked Alissa. If the answer were yes Michal paused for a brief moment before speaking again. "Suggestion: Acquire data backup in case of data corruption or unintentional deletion. Additionally, installation of a remote data termination device would be an effective means of preventing enemies from acquiring resistance information. A backup would assist in the decision making capabilities of the individual destroying the data as well." In reality, Michael would create a copy of all the data on the laptop in himself whether they decided to use him or not. But mentioning what he had just mentioned could potentially make this process easier and less violence-provoking.

If the answer to his initial question were no, he made the suggestion of remote data termination modules as well as saying. "This individual is available as an additional backup platform. Direct access will be required to download files though."

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Kyle sat in the lobby of Detainment Center 48-2, staring at the floor. While he realized the man was a traitor, he didn't believe anyone deserved a Mind-Splice. He sat there for some time, toying with the idea of what made the Government so unfair, for the umpteenth time. He was brought out of his thoughts by an Agent. The man offered Kyle a cup of coffee, which he politely declined. While he could have drank it, it would provide no sort of nutrients to him, so it would be a waste of time. The Agent shrugged, took a swig from the Styrofoam cup, and began to walk off. The Agent looked back and said, "By the way, the Mind-Splice failed. Apparently, the Splicer was a little pissed off at the prisoner, and drilled to many holes in the poor sap's head. The prisoner died before the Mind-Splice could begin." Kyle looked up, with a look of obvious shock on his face. "Yeah, I know, right? Anyway, they are going to "discharge" the Splicer responsible. Probably with a bullet to the brain." The Agent walked off, sipping on his coffee.

Kyle left the Detention Center shortly after, heading home to his apartment on the City-wide monorail. He got to his apartment, unlocked the door, and went inside. The apartment was sparse, with little furniture and almost no decorations. It was a two-room flat, with a kitchen and a bedroom sprouting off the living room, with no walls in between. The only pieces of furniture were his bead, a couch in the middle of the living room, a T.V. in front of it, and a large stereo system on one wall. Kyle walked over to the stereo, flicked it one, and walked to his bedroom. His apartment filled up with Beethoven's Diabelli Variations. Kyle took off his jacket, shoes, messenger bag, and hat and threw them into a corner. he stripped off his shirt and socks, thew them into the pile of his clothes, and flopped onto his bed. He laid there, letting the soothing tones of the piano lull him to "sleep".

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Laying a soft kiss on her daughter's silky forehead, Cynthia scooted her way slowly and carefully from under Julia's head and walked quietly out of their bedroom. For the last two years they'd been living in a small apartment on the Metro level. It had cost to much to own a town home with her husband gone and sending no money. Shutting the bedroom door just a bit to keep light out, Cynthia made her restless body move toward the kitchen to clean up the dinner and dessert dishes. Every bone in her body ached with the memory of her stupid husband and his stupid cause. Her eyes watered over and they fell into the dish water relentlessly.

They'd been so in love. They'd worshiped each other. He vowed he would do anything for her and Julia. Then he'd just left. In the middle of the night. No letter, no foreshadowing of the event to come. Gone like a leaf in the wind. Cynthia found herself brutally scrubbing the pan in her hands. The tears were still falling, but she continued with her motherly duties and keep the house clean and safe for her child. If her husband wasn't going to, she would surely fill his place.

By the end of the cleaning, the bill sorting, and the laundry, Cynthia was worn out and ready for bed, though still distraught with the memories that continually haunted her every thought. She climbed under the sheets with her little daughter, and tried to sleep peacefully.

The following morning, Cynthia gathered up her daughter after breakfast, kissed her delightfully on the cheek and started out the door.

"Ma! Ma!" Julia hollered and tugged on her mother's hand. Cynthia was trying to lock the apartment door as Julia pulled and jumped.

"Just a minute honey, Mommy's trying to lock up." She chided softly, but the three year old insisted and pulled harder and harder. Finally getting a chance to turn, Cynthia looked to where Julia was pointing. Up at the ceiling of the Metro; the underneath of the Skyline.

"Sky!" Something stole all the happiness from within the mother and her smile carried all the sadness in the world.

"Close, sweetie. Very, very close." Picking her up, she kissed the chubby, pink cheek and fought tears. "One day, I'll show you the sky, okay?" Julia smiled big, her little hands placed flat against Cynthia's cheeks, cradling her mother's face.

"Sky!" She repeated, her gray eyes twinkling. With another nod, Cynthia turned and wished with all her heart that Julia would see the sky soon.

The setting changes from Greater Metro, 2042 to The Program

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Jerrod stood in his spacious office, looking out a mammoth window, overlooking the science labs of the Program's headquarters. He watched intently as the scientists labored on the next big improvement for the Synthetics. A few of the workers could almost feel his glaze, as they were obviously fidgeting under his gaze. Jerrod had that effect on people. The phone on his desk rang, snapping him out of his trance-like stare. He strode over to his desk and picked up the phone. Only four words came over the phone, but they brought a wave of anger with them. " The Mind-Splice failed." Jerrod calmly put down the phone and turned back to the window. Whatever anger he felt, he did not show it. He was above petty displays of emotion.

A while later, there was a sound as the door to his office slid open. Jerrod turned around slowly to see an Agent standing before him. "Sir!" the Agent snapped a smart salute and stood at attention. Jerrod sighed. "I'm not a general. Stop acting like your in the military and just tell me what you came to say." The Agent awkwardly stood at ease. "Well, sir, I was just wondering if you know who caught the rebel." He paused before going on," It was K Delta 6-2, Sir. Was he on patrol? Because our logs don't show him being scheduled-" Jerrod raised a hand and silenced the Agent. Jerrod slowly lowered his hand and waited a moment before he replied. "That particular Synth was in fact on patrol. Ordered by me. The Government doesn't control my Synths, I do. Now, whether he knew who scheduled him for patrol, we will find out soon enough. But yes, I ordered him on patrol." Jerrod turned back to the window. "And Lieutenant, from now on, don't worry about my Synths." The Agent made a hasty retreat out of the office.

Jerrod couldn't tell why, but he had a funny feeling about K Delta 6-2. He couldn't tell why, but he did. "Perhaps I should have him deactivated." Jerrod's voice, barely a whisper, cut through the silence of the office like a knife.

The setting changes from The Program to Greater Metro, 2042

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-- Charles's newest assignment had him running.

"I got you, motherfucker!" Screamed the Enclave patrolman that was raking Charles's position with bursts of full auto fire. He pressed his back hard into a hot pipe. He could feel the scalding water main through his layers of clothing. It was either this or get shot. Thankfully Charles had ordered up a little present for the Enclave after his cover was blown.

The patrolman dropped. Charles could see blood pooling where his head hit the ground. The sound of different guns echoed through the Sihai Enclave's cavernous main hall. The scene was general chaos. Charles head several Enclave guards yell and scatter, frantically looking for the shooters. Several gave dying screams as the government sharpshooters hit them. Then it stopped. Bright flashes from positions above Charles told him that the Enclave's owns security force was winning.

Suddenly the sound and fury was overwhelming. Charles slackened his jaw. The noise-dampening ballistic earplugs did the rest. A huge explosive charge had been detonated at the opposite end of the Enclave. He just felt the pressure wave. He pulled an "all-vision" scope from the inside pocket of his peacoat and held it up to this eye. The scene at the end of hall was carnage. Black smoke rose from the mangled carcass of a Government troop carrier. Its front end was twisted towards the roof.

A rat-rat-rat sound echoed from halfway down the hall. A stream of iridescent flashes bit into the mangled carrier. The front end shuddered and collapsed under the stream of fifty caliber armor piercing rounds.

At the same time a transmission came over Charles's earpiece. "Insertion team Alpha is Mission Kill. I repeat we are mission. Under heavy fire. Advise caution. Do not fire into breach."

A volley of bright blue flashes came from the breach, silencing the machine gun. Charles sniffed the air. He smelled ozone, and he heard nothing. As the surge of adrenaline wore off he realized that the fans weren't working. All the smoke and fumes from the firefight were accumulating in the hall. He pulled his peacoat up over his face and stumbled towards the exit he had found earlier.

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Major woke up to her phone ringing, her husband waking out of the room. She answered with a sleepy "Hart Residence?", not bothering to check caller id. "Fray Fairchild, it is!" Alissa said, using our special code. Ever since she joined that stupid Resistance, she had to be careful on who she called and all that junk. "Major Hart, it is. What's up Fray?" I asked, never using her real name. not even Bryan knew who my sister was, just that Fray Fairchild was my "niece", since Bryan is a Government worker. I never what to say around him. Since he became a Government worker, he's been suspicious everytime I talked about the revolution. "Spike and I are just hanging out, you know?" she said, actually sounding happy for once. She was usually freaked out for her life. "Oh, that's good. You know, you can always stay here." Major said over the phone, hearing a scream then a click.

Major sighed, since that usually happened. It was probably because of her violent boyfriend Spike, but she didn't worry. Alissa is a strong young woman, and she could make it through any violent man.

______________________________________________________'

Alissa dragged him into the alley, Spike limping behind me. A Gov. agent had found them, and demanded IDs. Alissa couldn't find her ID, so he started to arrest them. She used Stinger's camera after he stabbed Spike in the leg. They ran to the Slums, adn finally back to the Cave. She found her fake ID, sighing. Good, I dropped it here!

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Kyle's eyes cracked open. He looked around his room, and located the clock. He had been on "hibernate" for about three hours now. He stood up and took a deep breath. He let it out slowly, and said in a commanding voice, "Stereo, play Beethoven's 7th Symphony, 2nd Movement." The stereo system came to life, filling the small apartment with the majestic sounds of music from a forgotten era. Kyle walked into the bathroom and examined himself in the mirror. he was fine except for a small cut on his forearm and the burn mark on his cheek. The cut was fine, but the burn was rather noticeable. he would get it fixed when he went to file his report of the capture of William Travis. Kyle let out a sigh and left the bathroom. He put on a clean shirt and socks, pulled on his jacket and his shoes, and grabbed his messenger bag. He then headed out of his apartment, and with a firm, "Power off", all the electronics in his house powered down.

Kyle exited his apartment and headed for the nearest elevator. He stepped on right before the doors closed, and the elevator began to rise up to the Skylight. When he stepped off the elevator, he was greeted with soft sunlight. He stood still for a moment, enjoying the gentle warmth from the sun. If he had a choice, he would live up on the 5th level. The harsh artificial lights of the lower levels could not compare to the light the sun provided. Kyle let out a contented sigh and began to walk off towards the nearest Government outpost, a smile on his face and Beethoven playing in his head.

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Michael, whether he got permission or not, copied all the files from the resistance database to his own mind. Every single scrap of information regarding the resistance he now knew. Addresses, phone numbers, code names, personality files. Although, after he was finished with this he stood, withdrawing the cord into the USB port of the computer and then walking to the TV. Without asking or warning he produced a screwdriver from his arm and immediately began to dismantle the TV. For what purpose it was unknown unless someone asked him. If they did he responded.

"Televised broadcasts are unessential. Media controlled by government, propagated with government messages. Internet connection is far more essential. Total internet monitoring is impossible. Leaks and reliable information acquired there more easily. Current objective: transformation of television into internet receiver device." Surprisingly, after this information was divulged, the mess of parts that Michael had laid out infront of him seemed to be, infact, an entirely new device.

-----------------

OOC: Sorry for the low-quality post. I just needed to get Michael back into the flow of things. Stuff (life, roleplaying, etc.) is confusing.

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Rodger watched as Alissa ran off, probably to go see that boyfriend of hers. Spud, or Ike, or something. He turned to Micheal, only to find him disassembling the T.V. "Hey, Micheal, cut that out. That T.V. cost me money." He listened to Micheal's almost instantaneous rebuttal. "Okaay... just tell me before you disassemble anything else." Rodger turned away from the hybrid, who was completely absorbed in constructing a device from the pieces of the T.V. Rodger faced his personal computer and flicked it on. He logged into the pirated internet, and started to check the Government homepage. The usual propaganda. Rodger let out a disgusted sigh and slammed the laptop's lid closed. He walked out of the Command Center and into the War Room. Rodger looked at the holographic map displaying the Skylight. He leaned onto the table, staring at the map. There were three red dots marked on the map: a bank, a Government office, and a weapons production plant. If the attack was successful, they would strike a major plow to the Government. There would be casualties, but some deaths were necessary in order to make a difference.

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It took some time but Michael had successfully cannibalized the TV and turned it into an internet receiver. He walked into Stinger's room after the device was in hand and set it beside the laptop. He looked up at the holographic map. His eyes swiveling and examining it. Each independent of the other.

"This map displays all of the upper levels. High-value government locations have been marked with red. This is a strike map. Targets that, if destroyed, will cost the government dearly." He analyzed the map a little bit more then spoke again.

"Michael is capable of hacking such locations and discovering declassified information without being detected. Information such as staffing, security, blueprints. Additionally, accelerated internet access is available for connection" He pointed at the device he had just created.

"Michael is available for further cyber-warfare advice at any time." he said turning and going to the laptop and hooking up to it with his USB hookup and then just started perusing the internet, gathering simple data. Knowledge was power, and Michael sought to have the most knowledge. As well as find a way to unscramble the data inside his mind, he knew something wasn't right with his mind, and he wanted to find what that problem was.

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Stinger heard the cyborg come into the War Room. It began to analyze the map, talking while it did so. It then offered to hack these locations and pull files. Rodger mumbled out a "...whatever you think is best..." and went back to staring at the map. Well, one part of it really. The projected civilian casualties box listed deaths up in the thousands. A rather insignificant number compared to the 1.2 billion people in Greater Metropolis. But still, those were 15,096 people he was sentencing to death, for doing nothing more than choosing the wrong job or house to live in. He tried to steel himself, to try to stop caring about those people, but he couldn't. When it came time to press the big red button, someone else might have to do it.

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Resistance HQ

Resistance HQ by RolePlayGateway

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Greater Metro, 2042 by MadHatter

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View All » Add Character » 11 Characters to follow in this universe

Character Portrait: Kyle
Character Portrait: Rodger "Stinger" Patricks
Character Portrait: Charles Vadett
Character Portrait: Michael Hawthorn

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Character Portrait: Michael Hawthorn
Michael Hawthorn

Prototype organic supercomputer

Character Portrait: Charles Vadett
Charles Vadett

Charles Dorff Vadett

Character Portrait: Rodger "Stinger" Patricks
Rodger "Stinger" Patricks

Rodger Patricks-"A lad told me he wanted to be like me. I asked him why he wanted to be an old geezer. He said he looked the mohawk,mate."

Character Portrait: Kyle
Kyle

A Synthetic Human, Serial number K Delta 6-2. An A.I. that is beginning to question the Government.

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Character Portrait: Charles Vadett
Charles Vadett

Charles Dorff Vadett

Character Portrait: Michael Hawthorn
Michael Hawthorn

Prototype organic supercomputer

Character Portrait: Rodger "Stinger" Patricks
Rodger "Stinger" Patricks

Rodger Patricks-"A lad told me he wanted to be like me. I asked him why he wanted to be an old geezer. He said he looked the mohawk,mate."

Character Portrait: Kyle
Kyle

A Synthetic Human, Serial number K Delta 6-2. An A.I. that is beginning to question the Government.

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Character Portrait: Charles Vadett
Charles Vadett

Charles Dorff Vadett

Character Portrait: Kyle
Kyle

A Synthetic Human, Serial number K Delta 6-2. An A.I. that is beginning to question the Government.

Character Portrait: Michael Hawthorn
Michael Hawthorn

Prototype organic supercomputer

Character Portrait: Rodger "Stinger" Patricks
Rodger "Stinger" Patricks

Rodger Patricks-"A lad told me he wanted to be like me. I asked him why he wanted to be an old geezer. He said he looked the mohawk,mate."


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Resistance HQ by RolePlayGateway

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Greater Metro, 2042

Greater Metro, 2042 by MadHatter

A massive city, spanning most of what was the United States. The city has five levels, each one getting progressively worse.

The Program

The Program by RolePlayGateway

The birthplace of one of Man's greatest achievements... or one of their worst blunders?

Greater Metro, 2042

A massive city, spanning most of what was the United States. The city has five levels, each one getting progressively worse.

The Program

The Program Owner: RolePlayGateway

The birthplace of one of Man's greatest achievements... or one of their worst blunders?

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Fullscreen Chat » Create Topic » 2042: Out of Character

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  • 2042
    1, 2, 3by MadHatter on Fri Nov 26, 2010 3:29 am
    42 Replies
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    Last post by MadHatter View the latest post
    on Sat Jan 01, 2011 12:53 pm

Most recent OOC posts in 2042

Re: [OOC] 2042

****URGENT*** Everyone, I am going to close down this roleplay. I will probably create a new one eventually, but don't expect to be accepted onto it. From what I've seen, you people are mostly uncreative, do not stick to the story very well, and barely check the roleplay. Celtior, I thank you for sticking with 2042 for so long, and when I create a new 2042, there will be a spot for you.

Goodbye,
MadhatteR

Re: [OOC] 2042

Alright, I can take over for Stinger, for now. Maybe Aquinoman will come back, or Koritai will want the character, but sure, I'll write for him for now. I'll post for his character tomorrow.

(UPDATE: I'm going to post a second "Stinger" profile. I can clean up the character and will actually have control of the character. And the NPC profile is just some characters that are in the RP world, no one will play them. UPDATE*UPDATE: Added a map of the Resistance HQ.)

Re: [OOC] 2042

Hatter, seeing as you are the DM and know where everything is supposed to go and what each faction is capable of, perhaps you should fill stinger's role in addition to the antagonists. I'm hesitant about filling the resistance leaders shoes due to the fact that I don't know exactly what I can and can't do and I don't want to metagame or g-mod on accident. Maybe someone is bolder than me. It's your call.

Re: [OOC] 2042

Yeah.. my character is pretty much useless until something happens.

(Way to go LvS. :P)

But as soon as I get a chance, I'll give her something to do... All I can do really is send her off to the bank to work. >_> And that would be a boring post of her talking about how much she loves her kid... again. I think I've established how much she loves the child.

Re: [OOC] 2042

Interesting idea, Ceoltior. We will have to see what Koritai wants to do when he logs back on.

Logging off for now, but I might get back on later.

Re: [OOC] 2042

Turns out we conveniently have Koritai wanting to create a character, he could very easily become the new resistance leader, wether by creation of a new character or by simply filling stingers shoes.

Re: [OOC] 2042

Sorry i have been delaying, I didn't know what to answer Mike with. So i have a post coming!

Re: [OOC] 2042

Turns out that Aquinoman hasn't been on the site since November. Anyone want to take over his character "Stinger"; or should we scrap him and make a new Resistance figurehead? The character is up for grabs, or the recycling bin. It's your call, people. You've all had more interaction with his character than I have.

Re: [OOC] 2042

Just go on without her. If you read her post before your last one, she has already left the Resistance headquarters, travelled back into Greater Metropolis, and met up with some unknown boyfriend of hers. It would be alot easier to edit your question to her out of your post and continue on as if she had already left. That is the only option right now, because I'm not going to waste my time trying to contact her. If she doesn't want to RP right now, we shouldn't let her abrupt departure throw us off of our story.

Re: [OOC] 2042

RPGlover seems to be causing a good deal of the halting. I'm waiting on Alyssa's response to Michael and Stinger seems to be doing something similar. If she doesn't post in [insert # of days here] days we should probably just say she suffered a spontaneous bout of fainting and then move on. SOMETHING has to be done.

Re: [OOC] 2042

I guess I can post a filler. I thought someone was going to post in response to Vangelis. -shrug- :P Gimme some time and I'll get one up there.

Re: [OOC] 2042

People need to start posting more. There is no point in being in a roleplay where only one or two people post per week. And what the hell happened to all of our people? Most of you haven't been on in at least two weeks.

Re: [OOC] 2042

Sorry, the character's going to take a while longer. I've a mountain of homework to tackle.

Re: [OOC] 2042

Thats is an interesting idea, but unforunately, an implausible one. While there are people who want to live independantly from the Government, there is nowhere to go. There are no empty parts of the city, and civilians can't get their hands on the type of firepower needed to forcefully take a part of Metropolis. Plus, Tte Government has control of almost everything, and you would need permission to set up an Enclave in the first place, which you wouldn't get. Otherwise, the Government would shut it down before it really started.

Unless... unless these Enclaves are located on Terra (the ground). Because then the inhabitants would be outlaws, defying the Government with the establishment of a colony in one of the many caves dotting Terra. If this is what you meant, then the Enclave are fine, but they can't be located inside the city.

(Also, if they are a small colony living in the bowels of the earth, chances are they don't have machine guns. The best they could hope for are pistols and the occasional shotgun. Remember, they are scavenging for a living in the belly of a very large city.)

Re: [OOC] 2042

My latest (and second...) post just introduced an idea. There are thousands of small, private enclaves inside Greater Metro. Some of them are peaceable. They're just glorified, self-sufficient subdivisions. Some of them are more militant and stake the inside of their enclave as sovereign territory. Charles's just blew his cover on a recon mission. Now the cavalry is coming in.

More importantly, these enclaves are popping up everywhere. They could hideouts for rebels. They could undermine the power of the central government. Who knows.

Re: [OOC] 2042

Alright sounds great, I'm actually quite exhausted so I'll finish it later.

Re: [OOC] 2042

It depends on what you want to add. Submit your character and then I'll tell you if it needs any changes. But sure, add stuff. I'm all for creativity.

NOTICE: if you want to make a suggestion or have an idea, please PM me first about it, don't go and just post this idea willy-nilly (yes, I JUST said that). It will save us all alot of confusion and time. Thank you!

Re: [OOC] 2042

Is it okay if I expand on the whole Synth thing? Like their background and such? By your profile, I don't have much to work with, so I was hoping to be able to expand on it.

Re: [OOC] 2042

Making character now.

Re: [OOC] 2042

I agree. I don't want to be the last post. :( It would make me look like a murderer. And I don't wanna go to RP jail!

God, I'm such a loser. -headdesk-