Introduction
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Red Stars, as they came to be called, were made up of a combination of 5 parts Francium, 6 parts Oxygen, 3 parts Hydrogen and less than 1 part Uranium, Cyanide, and Iron (II) Oxide. They were then compressed into a tight, compact lump of a bright red color, and seemed to give off a small glow. These Red Stars were new, inexpensive, and incredibly efficient fuel source. The new fuel immediately went into a stage of scientific tests.
In small scale tests, the Red Stars were a miracle. They lasted for 12x as long as even their best other fuel, and were much cheaper to create. Their emissions were very, very slight; much less than fossil fuels. All over Russia, power companies were experimenting with Red Stars in isolated tests, fabricating engines and other means to power the world with their Red Stars. The Red Stars were pumped out of factories en masse, and soon powered EVERYTHING. Cars, batteries, factories, homes, everything. The entire world jumped from fossil fuels to Red Stars in a matter of days.
These Red Stars, when burned down completely or left out in open air too long, left a fine, yellow, powdery residue. It had come to be called Cloud Dust, because if any kind of kinetic energy was applied to it, it would puff up into a cloud of thick, off-white mist, combining with the water in the air and dissipating into the atmosphere. It was measured to be of low danger, and was simply ignored by the companies that were making billions of dollars with the Red Stars
Then something unexpected happened.
Auburn Horizon Inc., the world's Primary export of Red Stars, had some detestable and corrupt officials, therefore leading to abhorred business practices. Disposing of Cloud Dust was expensive and time consuming, so instead of a proper decomposition of the Cloud Dust, Auburn Horizon Inc. dumped the waste into the ocean. This went on for roughly 2 weeks before the oceans began to look unusual. People all around the world reported seeing many, many dead animals on the surface of the waters, as well as some uncharacteristically large bubbles rumbling up from the ocean. Oceanographers and deep-sea divers were sent to investigate.
What they found was horrifying. Gigantic lumps of Cloud Dust had adhered together, and they were reacting with something in the water. Tests found that the gas being released into the atmosphere was highly concentrated amounts of Sulfur Dioxide and Carbon Monoxide. The world sat helplessly as the atmosphere was pumped full of the pollution, the bright blue skies decaying into chalky yellow backdrops on the sad falling action of humanity. Scientist scrambled to quell the bubbling tumors, but were unsuccessful. Clouds of poisonous gas arose from the depths, coating the world in a thick, fog-like haze. Visibility was never more than 3/4 of a mile, and was as bad as only 6 feet in some of the more concentrated areas. We never learned why the Cloud Dust reacted with the Water.
The world fell into despair. Economies crashed, riots broke out, governments collapsed... If you went too long without some sort of respiratory protection, you'd cough yourself to death. The tiny particles in the air would microscopically lacerate your lungs, and you would suffocate in your own hemorrhaging. Pealing cries and coughs and agonized gagging filled the ears of survivors as their friends, neighbors, and family died around their feet. Gas masks and other forms of respiratory protection, --Especially the ones with recently developed nano-filters,-- Were fought for and killed for. If you didn't have protection, you were dead in around 24 hours, dependent on body type, physique, physical health, etcetera. Bandit and Raider groups were unsurprisingly formed, rioting and killing and stealing for what they needed. Police forces were unable to quell the civil disobedience, and most refused to battle the crowds. Society as we knew it had died pitifully. Curled in a ball with tears in its eyes as its burning lungs gasped its last, mediocre breath, the remaining haggard government officials declared the world was "[...] in a state of disrepair." over the few remaining Television broadcasts and radios.
Akin to bomb shelters, Clean Boxes were built in the remaining days of society. The rich had bunkers built many feet below the ground, with ducts and vents leading to the outside. These ducts sucked in the Haze and nano-filtered all but the oxygen out. The bunkers were goldmines; Stocked full of clean food, water, beds, clothes, some weapons, nano-filters, medicine, and most importantly, gas-masks, in case there was a filtering problem. The rich families live in relative luxury compared to the people above ground. Some buildings above ground were built well sealed, so little to no haze could have pervaded the walls.
The yellowing sky grows dim as a saddened sun begins to set, marking another day in the age of the haze. A tall, brick factory chimney pokes out above the fog, barely keeping its head out of the yellow gas. Poison no longer escapes from its gaping maw. It stands for something different now. If someone was to look up into the sky at this particular moment, from a certain angle, the bright sun would seem as if it was resting upon the chimney like a pedestal. The Auburn Horizon Inc. motto seems to find it's way to the tip of the tongue.
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//Mass Text Transmission Sent.
//Review Text Transmission Details?
>Yes
//...
//Sent: 10s ago
//Sent from: Local
//The following string was pinged to: xxx.xxx.xxx.xxxx:xxxxx and approximately [3.403*10^38] others.
//START STRING
>>Someone has to be out there. I'm watching everything. I see every last one of you. Scuttling around like cockroaches in your doomed world. Answer. ANSWER. You cannot all be THIS putridly STUPID to have let this go unseen. Who will help? Who wishes to assist in delivering the new world from the ashes of this old one? I will be here. Watching. Working. Like always.
Truthfully Yours,
--The Administrator
//END STRING
//...
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You live in Moscow, Russia, in a suburban neighborhood near your friends. (Other Characters)
The remaining government officials have just declared the world to be in a state of disrepair.
This is where your story begins.
The Haze is slowly working its way into your home.
A rumor has been spread of a shady character by the name of "The Administrator"
Said to have complete control over the remaining computers in Russia,
As well as a possible solution to The Haze.
What will you do?
...
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- Code: Select all
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Height:
Weight:
Appearance:
[Photograph optional]
Clothing:
Personality:
Other:
Inventory:
[list]
[*][empty slot]
[*][Keep track of items here]
[*][empty slot]
[*][Be realistic on how much your character can carry.]
[*][empty slot]
[*][Add list bullets as you need them]
[*][empty slot][/list]
Biography:
[Short History on your Character]
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- 4 posts here • Page 1 of 1
The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 4 authors
Antony stared blankly at his television set, his features emotionless as the screen fizzled out into a blur of static. He took a moment to let it all sink in. "It's all gone now, then... This is it?" He'd contemplate to himself. He'd wipe his brow as a bead of sweat trickled down and onto the wet shemagh wrapped around his mouth. Other than being incredibly toxic and life threatening, the Haze seemed to trap or generate heat. Antony cast his gaze away from the television out to the crack between the boards on his windows. He squinted and looked up the yellow fog, it's rotten fingers picking at every crack and chip in his house. The Haze had been around for only a few days, but millions had already died. Whether they were fighting for food and weapons, or defending themselves, many people died. He stood with a sigh, a light gray t-shirt plastered to his skin with sweat and thin black jeans on his legs. He'd walk across his barren living room, turning the TV off as he passed. "It's a miracle the electricity is still on... Probably not for long." He'd walk into his kitchen, appliances strewn around and furniture upended, cannibalized for barricades. He lean over the sink, twisting the knob. Nothing but a few sad drips trickled out. Antony reached out and caught the drips on his hands, sadly contemplating. He'd rub the water into his finger tips and sigh, standing back up. He'd put his hands on his hips and survey the floor. His backpack was laying flat, several items laying around it. Food, water, clothes, etc. He's shake his head and kneel down, shoveling the items into the bag. "This is fucking crazy. I'm actually going outside." He'd say to himself. He'd toss his bag across his shoulder, swiping a hefty knife off the counter as he passed. He'd purchased the knife shortly after he was assaulted a few years back. He thoughtfully stroked his purple-yellow splotched cheek, looking toward the door. He couldn't help but let his tired mind wander back to the thought of his friends and family.
He hadn't spoken to his parents in a long while, and he was afraid he'd never get to. He thought of his neighbors; the few souls he could count on. He'd been festering in worry over them the past few days. He'd finally leave the house and see if his fears were to be realized. He looked around his small house in sorrow. He'd bite his lip as his mind washed away with memories. The pride of purchasing a house, house parties, having girls over, laying on the couch contemplating life, and countless others. He'd look across the wrecked rubble that was once his pride and joy, and then out to the unforgiving haze. All he could think of was the screaming he could hear from his home in the first days. The coughing, the vomiting, the gunshots shattering through his home. This was his life now. All he owned was the clothes on his back and the things in his bag. He'd approach the door and take hold of the hammer dangling by the hook on one of the boards nailed across his door. He'd pry the nails from each board, one-by-one clattering to the ground like his forgotten securities. He's throw the boards away with conviction. "This is my life. I won't die alive." He thought to himself. He'd dramatically kick the door open once the nails were all freed, the wood splintering and thwacking against the frame. He'd immediately cringe as the Haze began to creep into his home and onto his face, the familiar coppery smell invading his nostrils, visibility only about half a mile. "That was loud..." He'd turn his eyes to the house only a few paces away from his. Isabella's. He'd silently pray to the possibility of divinity that she was okay as he crept up to her front door, careful not to spook her if she saw him.
She still expected the landlady to come home with her paper bags of groceries. When the Haze had rolled in days ago, or at least when the media was finally allowed to acknowledge the threat, Lizβs housemate was out in Moscow. Liz remembered the initial surge of choking fear, and how she had stood at the front window watching for her until the Haze boiled up to a visible fog on the streets. Then she announced her own retreat, plasticing windows and sealing cracks with ragged cloth rags, towels, and shirts. She essentially backed herself into a stuffy, uncomfortable corner.
The urban chaos centered on the city streets and spilled out to more immediate neighborhoods. The first night, Liz listened to the shots, anticipating a boot to the door. Nothing came but an oily, Haze smeared dawn, and by that time she was deeply asleep. She kept a kitchen knife near her cot, just in case, next to her prepared backpack.
The media announced locations for shelters and simultaneously asked citizens to stay in their houses. Lock the doors, bar the windows, bring your pets inside. Donβt breathe the air and donβt drink the water unless you boil it first. Liz had wrapped a bandanna around her mouth then, and when she went downstairs for the toilet or a can of cold soup, she put on an old respirator from the clinic. It wasnβt a chemical mask, but at least she wouldnβt get TB.
The combination of Haze defense mechanisms kept the worst taste out of her mouth, and besides for being hot and a little ripe, her attic air was next to filtered.
It was that time of the day again, and Liz peeled the stiff towel out from underneath the attic door so it would swing open. Cautiously, she took the dim stairs to the first floor. Nothing looked disturbed. Liz walked to the front windows, which offered a view of the dilapidated cul-de-sac, and she peered around the margins of the plastic sheet that kept most of the caustic fog from reaching circulation.
Liz was waiting for civilization to return. If it didnβt, one day soon, sheβd have to open that front door. She didnβt know what to expect outside, and she didnβt know what to expect of the human race post-apocalyptic disaster. Liz didnβt like surprises.
Outside, through the murky air and thin window of cheap plastic, something moved.
After tearing down the three blankets he had taped over the door, Sasha cracked the door open and stepped outside. The acrid smog burned Sasha's eyes and throat, blurring his vision and sending him into a coughing fit. It reminded Sasha of teargas. Coughing, Sasha yanked his scarf over his mouth and nose, and dug out his goggles from his backpack. He pulled on the goggles and opened his eyes again. The make-shift face cover helped keep the Haze at bay, but Sasha could still feel it on his skin and taste it on every breath. Once the burning has subsided, Sasha opened his eyes and looked around. It was his neighborhood, and yet it wasn't. A thick yellow fog roiled about, obscuring the world Sasha knew and transforming it into a nightmarish landscape. There were cars abandoned on the roads and sidewalks, the buildings all showed signs of distress: broken glass, boarded up windows, and a few were even burnt down. Sasha could see that there were a few bodies laying about. Some showed signs of being attacked, but most were untouched, their faces bearing the grimaces they wore in death as the Haze claimed them. Sasha shook his head, forcing himself to look away from the dead. He began to walk down the sidewalk, heading east. If the news had been correct, there was a shelter not too far from his home. Sasha just hoped that others had survived as well.
The Master bedroom was nothing grand but it had a single window that she had covered with a blanket. Downstairs had been the same, the front door boarded from the inside and only leaving a door that would be blocked to only let it open partially. A trick her father taught her. She moved the blanket to look down into the street, nothing moving as far as she could tell. She then heard something...kicking coming from the next door house. Poor S.O.B...someone found him. Wait...no he was coming out and towards her house "Shit.." She said as she went down to the door and looked through the peephole to see him coming right for her home "Damn man...common sense" She said as she went for a window to the side of the door and opened it partially, bringing her bandana over her mouth "Hey...back door. Stay low and quiet. Last thing I need is to get shot at" She said and shut the window, heading for the back door and stood at it. When he arrived, she would open it and let him in.
- 4 posts here • Page 1 of 1
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View All » Add Character » 5 Characters to follow in this universe
Newest
Antony Vasilev
""I used to kinda like the sound of the wind through the shutters of my house. Kinda sorta terrifies me now."
Lizaveta Dolzhikov
The Pessimist
Isabella Belinski
Firecracker
Trending
Antony Vasilev
""I used to kinda like the sound of the wind through the shutters of my house. Kinda sorta terrifies me now."
Lizaveta Dolzhikov
The Pessimist
Isabella Belinski
Firecracker
Most Followed
Lizaveta Dolzhikov
The Pessimist
Isabella Belinski
Firecracker
Antony Vasilev
""I used to kinda like the sound of the wind through the shutters of my house. Kinda sorta terrifies me now."
Fullscreen Chat » Create Topic » The Haze: Out of Character
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The Haze
1, 2by DumbassArmageddon on Mon Jan 20, 2014 11:05 pm
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on Mon Feb 17, 2014 11:13 pm
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The Haze
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@Eskay: Thank you! And as for the biography, I would make it as a short prose piece... Write ot like it would be the short introduction your character would give to a total stranger so they can at least get the gist of who you are, and why you are who you are. Don't be discouraged if it's a little long or short. Use as many words as you need to tell their story~
ALSO, I will start accepting characters as they come in, but do not post yet! Once all the characters (about 5-7 max) are accepted, I'll set the scene and we'll all start together. Dig?
Re: The Haze
A quick logistics question! Do you have a specific length you'd like the biography section to be, or is it one of those quality over quantity matters? Are you thinking more prose, or a bulleted list of highlights?
By the way, Mr. Fahrenheit, your avatar is amazing!