Welcome to Rapture!

DemonRosem · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **DemonRosem** on Tue Jul 27, 2010 12:14 pm

OC:
Welcome!Welcome! To Rapture! Where there is no God, No Kings, No one to take away your creations, no one to stop you!
There is no OOC thread for this, feel free to just jump right in!
This Role Play is indeed based off the games BioShock! You can create a whole new character, or you can play as one of the originals. If you choose to play as an original from the games, you either do it right or don't do it at all!
That means yes, Sander Cohen was indeed gay and sleeping with his disciples.
Yes you do need to use the same vocabulary as Atlas!
And no, Big Daddy's cant speak!
But you get the idea right?

The setting is before Jack(I think that's his name cant recall) comes down to Rapture to kill his father. So yes, Rapture is vary messed up right now.

IC:
He always did this,managing someone to sneak into Fort Frolic, just to see the man's creations. His plaster people, the theater. He loved the stage. He loved Sander Cohens work more then anything. But he didn't dare come when the man was awake or would notice.
No. The boy chose to sneak in late in the night when the man was asleep and his participles wouldn't take notice. He would set up the stand and place his music on it, flipping to his favorite piece. Then he would bring the wooden instrument to his chin, the bow to the string, and make the most lovely music to ever come to Rapture. He loved to play his violin, his mother having stolen it from the fisheries just for him.
He wondered if Cohen would ever like to hear him play,but the kid was to afraid to find out. He even turned off his radio when ever he approached Fort Frolic to keep himself of the air in case Cohen was listening.

The boy wasn't bad to look at either. Thin and pale, with cocoa hair and these bright blue eyes that seemed to glow. He wasn't tall, but he wasn't really short either. He wore a butlers outfit, having used to be a bartender at one of the many bars in Rapture. Now he merely had nothing else to wear. His hair was a disheveled mess that fell in his face constantly but wasn't long,only reaching the base of his neck and awkwardly layered. He looked his age, young.Only about eighteen in the hell under the sea.
He snuck along the many well plushed seat sin Cohens tiny theater and clambered up onto the stage, his violin in its case slung on his shoulder, the music stand for the pianist of the disciples already there.
He looked over the man's newest piece and smiled, instantly translating it to Violin notes and stepping back. He uncased his rosy colored violin pulled it out delicately followed by the bow. He placed it to his chin and let out a long sigh of content. The hairs of the bow meat the violins strings and instantly, lovely music came forth. It was chilling song, but calming. The kind that would lull children to sleep and cause adults to sway with their eyes closed, a faint smile on their faces. He loved his music, he loved his violin. He wished Cohen could hear it. But fear would never allow this boy that chance.

Tæfarós · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Tæfarós** on Wed Jul 28, 2010 3:02 pm

The surface! He had dreamed of breaching it many of time, a time that dared beyond the corridors and the bathyspheres, before he had written the requiem for the man who would be neither king nor god, the man he once loved; before the disciples had their mindsets succumbed to the methods of the doubters, the nonartists, the shams. And after all he had given to them, after all he had done, the surface still lingered in his dreams, as far away as any vision of heaven, and the concept of sunlight remained as foreign as the praise of his work. His Lord was now Poseidon, circling the depths to anticipate the coming of his watery grave.

Rapture, her crumbled structures at a loss of their dignity, beckoned him forward. The occasional visit to Mercury Suites grew lonesome after the humbled guests had tired of his records; when the gramophone ceased, so did they. And when they took a rather…restless turn, he immortalized them, and the burns in their flesh gave way to bits of metal, molds, found objects, all plastered, reborn into forms they hardly deserved. Sander Cohen looked upon them with glee, with envy. Makeup ran down his cheeks, trailing his whitened skin with beads of perspiration, asserting the redness that had gathered about his eyes in the wake of alcohol. Violet rays highlighted his thinning figure in sporadic patterns, throwing off-color streaks to his bloodied coat, his battered loafers. Here in Fort Frolic, he was a man nearing fifty, and yet his spirit still showed brightly with an ounce of youth; treacherous as they were, he partly had his boys to thank, at least before their true selves were revealed with a vengeance. Had he anticipated the turn of events? If not, he had certainly sensed it, although he regretted not initiating action against them sooner. Perhaps this had been what had driven him out of his hole at this hour--to seek answers to questions that had yet to be asked. Perhaps it was the paranoia kicking in. The young Fitzpatrick needed his practice, after all.

The ambience of the plaza carried over to the fort: A Big Daddy groaned somewhere in the distance, as the voices of his splicers punctuated the walls, torsos hugged to the ceiling, nails gritted with the grime of the sea. Cohen passed the landmarks--the record shop, the men’s paradise, the frozen hellhole--and a flicker of thought hinted at his mind. It made him consider his disciples, those fallen angels, before he found himself climbing the broken staircase to Fleet Hall, and there he heard a sound. It halted him, commanded him. His eyes widened, lashes fluttering, muscles tensing, then relaxing in an urge to waltz, hands clasped to his chest at such a sweet, unexpected trill; the elation overwhelmed any hesitance as he drifted toward the succeeding notes. The question at this hour, now, was neither how nor why the little moth flickered to the flame, no!

It was who.

So he watched in dazed seclusion, clinging tightly to the plush in back as if it were the traces of a dream. This was not the surface, but it was bright, oh so bright, and begged to be breached.

“You there!” His voice was just loud enough to overcome the piercing violin. If this meek uproar was not enough to stir him, then his presence would surely be enough. Walking quite carefully down the steps, he continued, “You should be ashamed--hiding such an innocent, wondrous things from the only man in this bucket sane enough to appreciate them? My God, boy, we artists must stick together!”

Then he froze, delighting in the appearance of this marvel. A diamond in the rough, he was, he would surely benefit from a bit of care and tutelage. Yes, he would do very, very nicely. But Cohen shrank back as he took to the stage, pacing about him, suddenly taken aback by his own words.

“You must forgive me. For you see, it is not often I find this much talent wandering upon my good graces. Don’t look so scared,” he added, a smile twisting his face. “My reputation far exceeds the truth.”

DemonRosem · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **DemonRosem** on Wed Jul 28, 2010 3:34 pm

The boy shrank away quickly,having been to lost in the music to get the chance to run for it. Fear etched itself in his lovely eye's and he cringed,clasping the violin to his chest tightly and inching slowly away each time the man left him an opening.
"Forgive me"He hissed,voice low and full of fright,respect"I did not mean to intrude or anything!Please sir I'll leave at once!"He turned and knelt,packing away his violin and then reaching for his sheet music to stuff it in after the wooden thing."I just wanted to see what it was like,the pianist doesn't seem to like it when I come to see him play,I just wanted to see why."He lied threw his teeth,fingers moving fast to roll up the music,clasping the buckle closed on the case.
He flicked his hair from his face and glanced over his shoulder at the man he had come to admire and fear.They all said he had lost his mind when Rapture fell,that he was prone to violent out bursts.He was terrified, mainly becuase he was no good at the splicing things.The only one he owned was what Finnegan had, only much weaker.Ice.
"I hope I didn't wake you."He went to stand,knees shaking.

Tæfarós · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Tæfarós** on Thu Jul 29, 2010 4:29 am

For all his cooing was worth, he could not blame the lad for his startled reaction. The moth’s words came tumbling out, crashing into one another and disregarding what had been said--a stark contrast to the flow of the rhythm from before. How tragic! Such needless fear consumed the poor bastard's soul. Spite flashed in his eyes, only to be replaced by a hint of sadness; he needn’t display his fury at this beautiful intruder, for he knew, even as they were put to rest, the strings would sound again. And damnit, if they would not, he would make them sound again.

“I don’t sleep properly these days, only dream if I’m fortunate. Please, stifle your apologies--it should be my fault for not discovering you sooner,” he said, his tone genuine, though he dared not draw nearer to the young man. They were already knee-deep in the blood of a social suicide. He merely paced in front of him, his steps rather loose and slightly riddled with absinthe. “You may leave without amends, but we’d be leaving so much unattended to! I sense great things in your future, after all.”

Was he lying inwardly? For the moment, he could not tell; however, there was a certain vulnerability that had crept away from his guest and latched onto the former songbird, leaving him stranded without the guise of his mask. Without the emblem of his genius.

At the mention of Fitzpatrick, the pianist, he had burst into a fit of laughter, a mirthless showcase of contempt. The image of Kyle, silly, foolish Kyle, being observed by someone other than he was almost humorous. Now he knew who was lying: “Well, that’s one excuse I haven’t heard before. He plays well, does he not? He isn’t quite fond of audiences, unfortunately; the difference between him and one such as yourself is the very desire to play, and his is all but lost. I can tell--” his gaze held on to the violin case, then to the form holding it “--where your heart is. Yours isn’t the heart of a doubter…”

He drifted into silence, anger rising at the idea of another member fallen off the deep end. As the boy stood trembling, Cohen held his smile, his voice steady, but his glare was unmistakable: “You aren’t one of them, are you? Are you? If you’re sensible, you must know what I do to doubters. ..."

DemonRosem · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **DemonRosem** on Thu Jul 29, 2010 10:37 am

"I-I would not of been coming here if I was one,s-sir."The boy squeaked, voice hushed but loud enough to hear."I know what you do to..d-doubters and I rather not be one as it is."
He clutched his case to his chest like a life preserve,shaking and causing it to rattle in it.He swallowed and tried desperately to calm himself before he did something stupid. And it all honesty he didn't want to leave. Fear compelled him he should, but admiration rooted him to the spot to stare at the man he found amazing.
"Kyle doesn't like to play?"He blinked"How could he not when he dose so well?"He bit his lip and slowly set his case down and held his arms,trying to ride himself of the need of something to hold onto."I'm no good with my violin sir.I never really learned properly how to play."He swallowed again,managing to bring his eyes up to meet Cohen's before turning them down once more.
He felt like one of the others, always hiding never really coming out unless to attack something or be in their fantasy world to play make believe. Fearing the looks of people like Sander or Ryan.
"I'm not good enough to have a future in this work.Not like the others here, who have worked the majority of their lives for this. I barely play these days, I'm sure there is someone better."He picked up his case once more and walked down the stairs stiffly to the seats that lined the room.He didn't intend to play again, not for awhile at least."I'm sure it sounded worse then what your saying sir,I'm just not that good at the violin, a child at it really so I don't want to waste your time."

BigDaddy · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **BigDaddy** on Thu Jul 29, 2010 11:33 pm

Each foot step caused the ground to tremble softly,his big round head swinging from side to side slowly. The world around him was dark and silent, whispers here and there from the damned, a scratch from their movements, but nothing more then that.
He groaned silently, his body working without much thought to it. He simply moved. One thing on his mind.One thing in his life.

He came to the vent slowly, his giant drill of an arm tapping the wall inquisitively before he reached up with his fist and pounded on the wall under the vent mercilessly.
He looked around slowly to make sure no one was near then banged again. The lights on his helmet a pale yellow as he banged, wondering where the little girl was now. She must be asleep still. But it was time to go out in the world now.Sleep time was over and it was time to wake up.
He looked around slowly once more and pounded,stepping back a few feet and groaning,sounding like a whale calling to its calf.

LittleSisterAmalie · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **LittleSisterAmalie** on Thu Jul 29, 2010 11:50 pm

A small child emerges from wall's circular vent. Pale, dirty, barefoot, eye's glowing yellow, brown hair falls upon her brow from her disheveled ponytail, a vulnerable sight indeed. Equipped with an exceptionally large syringe, steadily she lowers herself to floor level but can't help but stumble a bit. Looking up to her caller, she rubs her drowsy eyes and yawns.
"Good morning Mr.Bubbles! Did you sleep well?" Without leaving time for a verbal response that's well within her knowledge, will never come, she continues:
"It's a bit early don't you think! Oh well, let's get going! All the angles aren't going to wait forever I guess! I wanna visit them before they fly away!" She, chuckles and trots off with both pride and enthusiasm in each step, hardly aware of the drenched hell she is surrounded by.

BigDaddy · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **BigDaddy** on Thu Jul 29, 2010 11:55 pm

He stepped back a bit then turned, following after the small child slowly, keeping vigilant while still keeping his eye on the small girl he was charged with.
He groaned silently, and the others around them slithered away slowly in fright, not willing to take on this Big Daddy alone.

After a bit he looked down at her and then reached out to lift her onto his shoulder rather then let her walk about vulnerable to those around them.

Tæfarós · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Tæfarós** on Fri Jul 30, 2010 1:47 am

((Hello, Daddy and Sister. :D It's lovely to have you. Would you kindly ignore my melodrama and pretentious wordplay?))

Cohen relaxed visibly, the strain lessening in his shoulders. But how many times had he heard a similar claim before, only to have it whisked away upon the trade winds? “That’s a good boy. A trustworthy man is a hard find, you know.”

“Kyle is an odd one,” he went on to say, reveling sickeningly in the fear that dined upon his guest, yet despising himself all the same. “One can be taught to feign the love of his craft. His love has turned to tragedy, and we currently have our fair share of disputes.” His hands, once swept by graceful gestures, turned stiff and violent; his expression, once settled in an ironic peace, darkened with rage. He recalled things he admired, things he regretted, things he alternatively wept and mused over. “‘I’m no good. I never learned.’ The little moth is stifling the beat of his wings! He who would be the brightest of stars threatens to expire in the night! You, of all people, must see yourself through.”

Doubter, doubted, doubting, doubtful. No, it could not be--the boy was too pure, too fragile. One false move would easily send him crumbling into thousands of naïve pieces. In the midst of his staccato fury, Sander Cohen might have been referring to the moth. Sander Cohen might have condemned all of Rapture and her ghosts within, bitter and rotting.

Doubtless.

He regained control. As his guest fetched the case once more and trailed down the steps, Cohen followed suit, easing into a seat in the front row. Beside him sat a middle-aged form, legs crossed, its features rendered ambiguous by the thick coating of plaster, its face cemented in a laugh that would never be heard. Imitating its pose, the songbird cut the image of a man without a care in the world. For all they knew, they could be talking about the tides: “That attitude won’t get you far--not with me. I won’t deny myself the opportunity to bask in such…magnificence. First, you will give me your name; then you will play your best for me, uninterrupted, as if you would be admired for eons to come."

DemonRosem · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **DemonRosem** on Fri Jul 30, 2010 12:23 pm

The boy swallowed hard and twitched, looking up at Sander then away shyly and back up at the stage,leaning against it as his knees wobbled.
"Andrew sir.My name is Andrew." He managed to force his name out and set his case upon the stage.
He looked over at Sander and then back at his case,worried about his ability to play as he pulled the violin from the case and then withdrawing his bow.He kept looking up at Sander each time he made any sort of movement.He moved slowly, making sure he was doing everything right that he knew how to do. The violin under his chin, the bow laying upon the strings gently.
Once the sound came from the strings his eyes slipped shut and the world melted away from him. The music was a melody, Ode to Joy to be exact. He smiled as he melted into his own music,his stance able to support him but to allow small movement like swaying.

Guardian Angel · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Guardian Angel** on Fri Jul 30, 2010 1:09 pm

A lone figure stood in the leaking hallways of rapture, careful to stay to the shadows the man gripped his Tommy-gun clearly fearing the things that rustled around rapture, preying on the weak. However this figure carefully crouched with his machine gun at the ready, was far from weak. Those who had refused to adapt to this insane world had all but died. The man was only partially insane, still trying to find sanctuary. Everywhere he went the twisted citizens of rapture followed. Always watching, waiting for their prey to fall asleep. The man had crept around with a group of sane men only days ago, this made sleeping a whole lot easier, as they had slept in intervals. However his friends were gone now, they either succumbed to the enticing madness of ADAM, or simply died in their painfully slow travels.

He never really traveled to far from the batyspheres, it made escaping the clutches of the wicked much, much simpler. He froze, when he heard laughter of the crazed filling his ears. He ducked behind a pillar still holding his weapon with a fierce grip. The pitter patter of footsteps echoed past the man's hiding spot. In the gloom he could make out three figures stop.

The one in the middle spoke. "Come out where ever you are Micheal! We just want to talk!" The voices dissolved into laughter as the man froze, how did they know his name? Closing his eyes he suddenly stopped himself from jumping out guns blazing as a new sound filled the air.

One of the splicers shushed the others as heavy foot-falls echoed through the halls of rapture.

A big daddy was close.

BigDaddy · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **BigDaddy** on Fri Jul 30, 2010 1:46 pm

He groaned silently,lumbering along slowly, always vigilant.
As he turned the corner following his little girl he stopped, and was immediately on the defensive.
He saw before them a few Splicers and raised his drill menacingly in an attempt to warn them to just stay where they were and he would ignore them. He lumbered along, not doing much more otherwise knowing that he couldn't do much more until they attacked or made a move first. He watched his little girl skip about beside him as she lead him along the world.Not even noticing the Splicers that would kill her in an instant.

Tæfarós · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Tæfarós** on Sat Jul 31, 2010 8:03 pm

“A-Andrew?” he echoed in a nearly inaudible whisper, a shudder running through him. Oh, how ironically cruel fate could be; in his mind Rapture’s founder was smirking, flushing him hot through all forms of anger and lust, but he soon cleared his head. It was not the boy’s fault. For now, bypassing the coincidence was something far greater than the emotional throes--it was Beethoven, no less, and it left him in a state of reverie.

During the little one’s setup, Cohen had forgotten to breathe. His face went momentarily blank before creasing into that smile of encouragement again, urging the moth to spread his wings; they beat proudly and rapidly, melting away any hint of anxiety that had almost, so it appeared, driven him to tears. So talented, Andrei. So wavering, Andrei. How dare he nearly waste such a gift trudging the halls of this sinking paradise? It was then that Cohen exhaled once more. His fingers had dug into the arms of the plush seating, leaving imprints in the material as he held up a hand, dismissive.

"All right--you've convinced me! That's more than enough," he said, though not in the rejective tone he had grown so accustomed to. For the first time in ages, he spoke with approval. He stood abruptly and, striding up to the André nouveau, bowed before the boy who would soon be his protégé. Breaking the bounds of comfort, he reached out to stroke his cheek, inching up to his hair: "You underestimate yourself, so I'm bestowing a new challenge upon you: I want you to play my masterpiece; adapt it to your glorious violin... but do not tarnish what is already perfect. I expect great things from you, little moth--wouldn't it just be a shame if you were to disappoint me?"

DemonRosem · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **DemonRosem** on Sat Jul 31, 2010 8:18 pm

Andrew tensed but didn't move away.He stood there,flushed with his violin clutched to his chest nervously.
"O-ok. You have a new work?"He blinked, his curiosity peaking slightly as he calmed and relaxed to Cohen's touch almost as if it weren't happening."I-I would love to see it sir, but it make take awhile for me to adapt it to violin notes."He swallowed a bit now realizing what he had set himself up with."Do you think i would be able to do such a thing to your work?"
He turned his back to Cohen and set his case on the stage, packing away his violin out of care not to ruin it.Taking great care not to scratch it.(Sorry its so short, one of those things where it needs a response, cant milk it much more then this =( )

LittleSisterAmalie · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **LittleSisterAmalie** on Sat Jul 31, 2010 11:59 pm

((Yo! Hey, I'm rather fond of that melodrama and pretentious wordplay! Forgive me for lacking the linguistic talents to make my posts longer.))
As the child guided her protector aimlessly ignoring the dangers Big Daddy was quite aware surrounded them almost every moment of their daily expedition. She hesitated. Tilted her head as if gazing into the sky that never was, she took in three long breaths through her nose, then turned to her Big Daddy and said eagerly:
"I Can hear the Angels, Mr.Bubbles! They're singing for me!" She points towards a long and rather narrow corridor.
"Down that way! There's a whole chorus, Mr. Bubbles!" she skipped and hummed along to an angelic song that only she could hear.

Guardian Angel · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Guardian Angel** on Sun Aug 01, 2010 1:53 pm

Micheal gripped his Tommy gun almost to tight for comfort. As the floor, and steam beams groaned with disrepair The big-daddy rounded the corner. The sheer sight of the symbol of death was enough to freeze the splicers pursuing Micheal. Holding his breath as the little sister pulled the man encased in iron along, she encouraged the big daddy to run along with her. Merely inches away from his hiding spot situated behind a pillar shrouded in darkness. They walked down the narrow corridor slowly yet surely slipping past Micheal.

Taking his chance he peeked out to see the Bigdaddy, and his companion between him and the splicers. Exhaling he slowly lifted his tommy gun, and aimed down the sights. Taking his time he fired three rounds dropping the first splicer. In a split second he switched targets, and shot the other two in the same manner, always hitting them in the throat or head.

As the last splicer fell Micheal smoothly stepped back into cover, and reached into his bag that rested snugly against his back. Switching out clips he inserted his armor piercing rounds. If he had hit the big daddy on a ricochet or his partner than the big daddy would charge. And if he charged, Micheal's fault or not--he would defend himself. Waiting for the big daddy to either move on or charge he leaned against the pillar in eerily educed silence. Micheal silently pondered whether taking the risk to kill his pursuers was worth that fight that might ensue.

BigDaddy · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **BigDaddy** on Sun Aug 01, 2010 7:02 pm

It had grazed his shoulder, only just barely but it was still enough to send the brute into a defensive offense of pure rage.
The lights on his helm turned red,and he bent quickly,scooping up the Little Sister he had been charged with and setting her on his back where she was safest and he didn't need to keep an eye on her.
He turned, drill shrieking to life as he laid his eyes on the suspected attacker,it being his main weapon of choice rather then the one or two plasmids he had.
And once he had the man in his sights he charged,drill raised and ready to come crashing down into the man's torso or skull.

Guardian Angel · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Guardian Angel** on Sun Aug 01, 2010 8:05 pm

Looking up Micheal cursed as he saw the bigdaddy charging. Rolling back wards he raised his tommy gun ready to unload a clip into the big daddies various port holes. As he started back peddling he ran into the wall. Dazed he frantically looked for alternative escape routes. Micheal looked left, right, then up. To Micheal's horror he was faintly aware that the bigdaddy had now raised his drill, and was ready for a killing.

"Easy big guy!" Micheal said quickly as he slung his tommy gun. before the big daddy could react Micheal scrambled up the wall finding various handholds that spider splicers had used long ago. Climbing furiously he looked up to see his intended escape route. Half way up the wall now Micheal silently prayed that the big daddy was unable to look up at the moment, for if he had some sort of plasmid up his sleeve, than he would be in for a rough climb.

BigDaddy · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **BigDaddy** on Sun Aug 01, 2010 8:25 pm

He had swung but was no fast enough, his drill demolishing a chunk of wall as the man climbed out of reach.
But he moved quickly, determined to destroy all threats to the little girl on his back.

His palm ignited in a red light as fire bloomed within it. He careened his nonexistent neck as upwards as he could and blasted,having terrible aim when looking up as it was.But he was determined too.

LittleSisterAmalie · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **LittleSisterAmalie** on Sun Aug 01, 2010 9:22 pm

"Get 'em Mr.Bubbles!" The young girl chanted while riding on his back, occasionally pointing in the directions he retreated to. Although her life was most certainly in immediate danger she had the utmost confidence in her armored guardian and never once felt any harm would befall her when accompanied by his presence.

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