Urbandive
An exceptional RP for distinguished gentlemen and ladies. Or not-so distinguished. Whatever.
Hello everyone. As you can guess, this is an RP, yaaaay. I am the GM, Plush Von Plush, although you can call me MISTER Plush.
I am a total n00b, as you can tell. Thus, this thread was started by my good friend EC. He is NOT the GM, although he is a very nice person. Don’t bug him.
Now we have an IC thread!
Okay, the basic premise of the RP is this.
After most of Alternia was destroyed in a nuclear war, revolving around the ancestors in the RP, the only survivors were in the flying cities.
(They're like cites, but they fly.)
So, in these flying cities, all the castes have strictly set jobs, and the people obey the system due to the fact that otherwise, they will be thrown onto the planet’s surface. This is complicated by the fact that the ruling classes use robots to enforce their laws.
All Trolls are taken into space at the age of nine sweeps.
The game is loosely dieselpunk based, which is like steampunk but with an internal combustion engine. If you don’t know what steampunk is, please crawl out of your hole.
Are you out?
Good.
So, eventually SGRUB gets developed, and one troll from every caste enters the game.
The game has one twist: You CAN go back to the city. However, it is totally deserted. And all the robots are going apeshit. So you need to save your home as well as beat the game.
Here’s a basic description of all the class levels. They are not set in stone. They are guidelines. Remember, everyone playing SGRUB is an exceptional person. I neither require you nor expect you to perfectly conform to these ungodly brief descriptions.
Castes:
Lowbloods: Typically poor as dirt, all lowbloods have dieselpunk levels of technology, but not nice dieselpunk. Try “filthy stinking poor” dieselpunk. So, they will probably not have any actual diesel. (However, all trolls are provided with computers upon birth.)
Redblood: Basic laborers. Treated like shit.
Rustblood: Grease monkeys. Treated like shit.
Yellowblood: Researchers. Treated like... well, not total shit. After all, if you give someone highly explosive chemicals, you want to be really, really nice to them afterwords.
Dull Greenblood: Skilled labor. Treated… okay. Usually merchants or something like that.
Midbloods: These guys have the higher-end dieselpunk tech, with cars, rudimentary, phones, and maybe even radio.
Greenblood: Supervisors. In charge of the lower classes, and reports everything to the highbloods when something goes wrong.
Jadeblood: Caretakers of the grubs and mother grubs, duh.
Tealblood: Judge. Makes sure the law is enacted. Also, yeah, they’re the lawyers and police.
Dull Blueblood: Low-level politicians. Technically elected, but not really. Everyone knows that the highbloods really pick these guys.
Highbloods: These guys have the good stuff, with radios, nice cars, and all of their appliances fueled by regular atomic energy. They have actually nice computers, and full internet access. Life is good.
Blueblood: Administrator. In charge of the higher classes, except those above them. (Duh.) Basically glorified Greenbloods, although you wouldn’t say it to their face.
Indigoblood: Priests. Lots of warring factions, since technically there is not set religion.
Purple: Seadwelling governor. Usually only one per city, except the capital, where there’s ten, due to it being ungodly huge.
Royal Purple: Emperor/ Empress. In charge of the capital and all the other cities.
We would love to have you join, because at this point we just desperately need people, but, as always, there are a couple of basic rules.
1. Follow all of the MSPA forum rules. This is fairly obvious.
2. People who wish to reserve a spot will have to post here, (Or contact me via Skype) and then PM Plush Von Plush your profile. Also, I am mean. I will give you some (hopefully constructive) criticism. Deal with it.
3. No Mary-Sues or Godmodding. I mean it. Don’t even try.
4. If you want to write smut, fine. However, it will not be canon. Do not tell me about it. Do not tell anyone about it. Keep it a dark secret you have hidden away in your closet, never to be shown to the pure and innocent, like I am. Okay?
5. All troll names must be six letters for both first and last names. This is really, really obvious. Don’t be a moron. Also, try to keep your title to one syllable each, like “Knight of Blood,” not “Paladin of Grievous Bodily Harm.” Jesus Christ, man.
6. This is PG 13. There is definitely language, and gratuitous violence, but… Well, just look at the smut rules again.
7. Profiles are to be written in standard 'Your Name Is' second-person MSPA format, along with at least your introductory post once we have created the IC thread.
8. I, as the GM, take full responsibility for nothing. If you aren’t on for a week or so, I’ll PM you. If you don’t respond for another week I’ll do it again. If you STILL don’t respond, “something interesting” will happen to your character and you will hate me. Don’t drive me to that point. Please.
Now for the fun stuff.
There are twelve spots, one for each of the above blood colors ONLY. In the age of flying cities, all mutants are immediately executed at birth. Don’t even try. Sorry. Also, there will be six guys and six gals.
Currently, the trolls we have are HERE:
PLAYERS:
1. PlushVonPlush- Tremor Baltan
2. Nexev- Voltug Miszic
3. ExplosiveCrate- Hispid Bursto
4. Krug- Taslok Kentra
5. SymphonyBar- Talita Megrus
6. lovelyAssistant-Laeka Rivven
7. Dhakian- Therin Kriski
8. ticktockCurator - Knetic Sropos
9. volcanicRage- Zeluda Umoran
10. Edo - Axeren Sadern
11. Hawktopus - Hatibe Pelune
12. arella9977 - Adovia Garati
TREMOR BALTAN
Your name is TREMOR BALTAN, and you are a ridiculously hemoloyal troll. You use this to DEFINE YOURSELF, always deferring to those with higher blood colors. If a SEADWELLER actually saw fit to contact you, you would seriously jump up and down with joy.
This fanaticism tends to put you in HIGH FAVOR with the highbloods, but really turns off most lowbloods to you. Whatever. They don’t matter. Once, you even tore off your OWN ARM to impress a blueblood whose ship you fixed by showing him your FREAKISH PAIN TOELRANCE. He gave you an OLD CYBERARM because of it, to replace the one you lost, because he was so impressed. Or scared.
Anyways, the cyberarm is your most prized possession, even though it is old and doesn’t quite fit. You have built a TELEGRAPH MACHINE into it, to replace the computer that you sold. You did this because you need money. You are REALLY, REALLY POOR because you are barely even a rustblood, to your greatest shame. You are only one measly shade above the despised redbloods.
As you can tell, you are QUITE HANDY with machines, although only older ones. This is more due to the fact that you can FOLLOW BLUEPRINTS AND INSTRUCTIONS EXACTLY than to the fact that you’re intelligent. You are actually ONLY AVERAGE, even though you have a NEAR PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORY. Whatever.
Physically, you are built like a BRICK SHITHOUSE. Well, a SMALL brick shithouse. You are actually LITTLE SENSITIVE over your lack of height, but you more than make up for it with your freakish pain tolerance and overall toughness. You ARE STRONG, but not super strong, and AGILE, but not super agile.
However, your cyberarm more than makes up for these deficiencies. It is incredibly strong, incredibly agile, and has access to vast databanks of storage that sort of baffle you. It ISN’T RESTRICTED by the internet block set by the highbloods in their glorious wisdom, which kind of scares you. You try not to access them too much.
Because of this, your STRIFE MODUS is ARMKIND. It has a vast amount of weapon systems, which unfortunately you CANNOT USE, except the random button, which gives you something random. This can be great, or useless as shit. You have a feeling that you will UNLOCK MORE FUNCTIONS as you defeat enemies, whatever that means.
Your FETCH MODUS is PAINKIND, which requires you to experience a fair amount of pain when retrieving your item. This isn’t much of a problem usually, but it can be annoying.
You kind of think of yourself as an exulted GUARD of the highbloods, even though they hardly know you exist. You would love to be them, but your fate is sadly set in STONE. Oh well.
Your trolltag is clankingProletariat, and you tend to speak with proper grammar CLACK and a subservient tone -(STOP)- However, your cursed telegraph CLICK will not stop making CLACK those click infernal machine like sounds, which CLANK really bothers you -(STOP)-
KNETIC SROPOS
Your name is KNETIC SROPOS, and despite being fairly loyal to the hemospectrum, you really wish now and then that you had hatched with a different blood color. Being a GREEN BLOOD, you are the lowest of the midblood class and in charge of those beneath you. However, this means you have to handle dealings with both upper and lower castes, and it can get hectic now and then.
However, most of the time you are RESIGNED TO YOUR POSITION and do your best to…well, enjoy it. Your main occupation is as a MEDITECTHESIAN, a healer that works with biotech for prosthetics. You juggle this alongside your “SUPERVISOR” duties, and though it is time consuming it at least gives you LARGER BENEFITS THAN THOSE USUALLY BEFITTING OF YOUR CASTE. Highbloods occasionally seek you out for your services, and being a healer also means that you work closely with lower castes that wouldn’t normally approach anyone of higher blood color. This makes your technical job as a “supervisor” easier, as you can cull those beyond hope without having to hunt them down first, as well as keep trolls under control by offering them medical help. The payments you get are pretty good as well, collecting favors from those too poor to pay and getting money and items from those who can. You’re sure to send a portion of your cash to your local blue blood administrators, so they know that you know your place.
Your job and actions has gained you RESPECT FROM THE HIGHER CASTES, letting you live in relative comfort and peace. You’re still a little nervous with lower bloods though, since they have cause to be angry at you. All in all, it’s REALLY EXHAUSTING trying to do your job right and still live.
Your STRIFE SPECIBI is WRENCHKIND, due to your familiarity with the tool. However, your books about meditecthesian-ing have given you a SYRINGEKIND specibi as well. You only use it when absolutely necessary, as you don’t usually like to waste CONCENTRATED SOPOR on everyday fights. The process in making that stuff is tedious and frustrating. Anyways, you are a FAIRLY GOOD FIGHTER, due to having to fend off attacks from other trolls. It usually takes a while for the robots to show up, and lowbloods get mad when you cull their moirail or kismesis or whatever.
Your FETCH MODUS is SCRAP METAL, where your items are turned into scrap metal and you have to put them back together to retrieve the original item.
Your trolltag is morphinicAutonomy and you < try X tO X SPeak X with X exact X PReciSiOn X but X SliP X uP X nOw X and X again X fROm X SleePineSS>
TASLOK KENTRA
Your name is TASLOK KENTRA. And you're a blueblood around 7.9 Solar Sweeps in age. You are also military troll of the highest respect on honor, and the commander of one of Alternia's chief Special Forces divisions, the DELTAGRESSORS. A elite band of operative comepletely dedicated to the defense of the Empress herself. You have the finest in military grade weaponry, the best computers the world over, and you each get a spot on the GOVERNMENT PAYROLL for you efforts. However, while the other Trolls with whom you work live out their lives of LUXURY and actually ENJOY THEMSELVES. You cannot have such a liberty, for your life is your work, and you take your work very SERIOUSLY. The Nation never sleeps, and neither does it's defense, you spend long SLEEPLESS bouts in the the Warroom, trying to predict potential threats and their movements. Your time is divided between drawing up Operations, and training both your body and your trigger finger to keep in PEAK PHYSICAL CONDITION. And make no mistake, you are in fact, a trained KILLER. A DEATH MACHINE, so to speak. Of course this is at the sacrifice of any sort of personal life. QUADRANTS? You don't have time to fill those! A HIVE? Please. The Headquarters is your god damn hive.
Because the DELTAGGRESSORS, take in only the best of the best warriors, you work with mostly MIDBLOODS of all color ranges. And you have no discrimination against any of them. Of course SHITBLOODS are a different story entirely, those bastards can't fight, and have tried to start REBELLIONS in the past. So of course you're DISTRUSTFUL of all of them, the Bastards aren't loyal to your GLORIOUS COUNTRY. And speaking of your glorious country, it always comes first in your mind. Before the lives of friends, lusus, or even YOURSELF. Duty to your nation must precede them all, it is the ultimate imperative.
Your Lusus is a BALD FEATHERY ASSHOLE, who quite honestly is pretty much your RIGHT HAND MAN. He is the one who works with you in making plans out in the wee hours of the morning, he fights and trains with you, and even taught you military tactics back in the days of just being a wriggler. Eagledad taught you everything you needed, and you owe him your current place in life today. While you don't know too much about your ancestor, you are sure of one thing, he was the old head of the DELTAGGRESSORS, and you sort of consider yourself to be his HEIR in idea of commanding covert STEALTH operations.
Your Strife Specibus that you use most often is RIFLEKIND. Because nothing can beat the pure simplicity of a fully automatic rifle with multiple attatchments and a laser sight. You also have GRENADEKIND and KNIFEKIND in the wings, just in case. Your fetch modus is set to TARGET. If you want to withdraw an item, you must first pass through a firing range that the modus sets up for you.
Should you play a certain game, you would be in the LAND OF WASTELAND AND MANTLE. Your trolltag is triangulatedMarksman and This is Overlorδ 1-3. Telling the citizenry how he speaks. Over.
VOLGUT MISZIC
Your name is Volgut Miszic.
You are a member of the cult of the Daesaurus, ancient beings of unfathomable strength and power who walked among alternia back when it still was hospitable. They lived under the surface but rose when the trolls IN THEIR MOTHERFUCKING ARROGANCE turned the world into their beautiful hell. They are ruled by several lords, and your cult tends to pick one of them to serve in particular, you yet to make your choice, UNDESISIVE FUCK AS YOU ARE. You do however have other hobbies besides the cloth, one of which is the most saintly music you HAVE EVER HAD GRACE YOUR UNWORTHY EARS. The most holy of the rhythms that speak to your DARKEST ANGER. You are pretty mellow for a indigo, just content to sit back and FEEL THE MURDEROUS GROOVE. You play the TrollCello, which is specifically WEIGHTED AND SPIKED, with a bowstring SHAPRENED TO SLAUGHTE so that it can be wielded by one of the CHOIREPULSIVES, which you hope to be, hence your Cellokind. You are pretty calm for a troll even when you have a BURN ALL THE HERETICS issue where you seem to PILLAGE THE BLOATED have the strangest thoughts and compulsions I COMPELL YOU UNGRATEFUL FUCK TO SLAUGHTER. This may have something to do with your hobby of trying to summon the DAEDRONIC PLAUGES TO THIS UNSAINTLY CITY but probably not. PROBBABLY YES ACTUALLY. Besides your summoning, partially due to your psychic consorting powers, you also enjoy tabletop real time strategy games, which you play with the lowbloods to teach them to RISE AGAINST THE MOTHERFUCKING OPPRESSORS strategize effectively so they may better their position. There is something about a well played out game of COPORATIONS AND CONQUORORS that just satisfies you when a long standing scheme is finally executed. You may have some problems, YOU MIGHT ALSO BE IN FUCKING DENIAL CRAZY PSYCHO.
You are the Blight of Flesh in the Land of Ruins and Corpses, infested with your Vulture Consorts and ruled by the denizen Loki.
Your trolltag Is chainedPenance and you talk_quietly_YOU_UTTER_FUCK
ZELUDA UMORAN
Your name is Zeluda Umoran and you HATE blood.
You can't wait to DIE so they can get it out of you and pump you full of Embalming Fluid. The worst part is that because you are somewhat high up on the hemospectrum, you have a longer life-span than most trolls.
Sometimes you hide your symbol and go work at the LOW-BLOOD STATIONS. This is ILLEGAL but you don't care, you like doing MANUAL LABOR and the small strength boost you get from your blood color is more than enough to carry HEAVY STUFF.
Your MENTAL PROWESS is a force to be reckoned with even if your psychic abilities are SUB PAR, If you are focusing enough you can PROJECT THOUGHTS onto other people's minds, you use this to confuse guards and maintain your cover in the lower districts. This ability is prone to failure and most experienced guards can notice you doing it.
Physically, you are very MEEK. Your blood color gives you a strength boost, but any other troll of the same level would easily BEAT YOU.
Your weapon of choice, and your predilect strife specibus, is Macekind. You own a short iron flail you keep allocated and a collection of replicas of legendary maces.
Your sylladex is administered through PET MODUS, a small flying robot follows you around and acts as an abstraction of your deck. The robot is somewhat antagonistic and very fragile, which makes keeping your cards at reach a hassle.
Your trolltag is ephemeralNihilist and you, Um, tend to s-speak in a quiet, um, tone, s-some low-blood terms-s s-seem, um, to have s-stuck.
If you ever played a game called SGRUB you would be the Page of Doom, but what are the chances of that ever happening?
ADOVIA GARATI
Your name is Adovia Garati, and you are possibly one of the snootiest trolls to have ever lived in Alternia. Well, probably not, but that’s what your lusus tells you, but she does so admiringly as hell, how else is a wealthy, well-off highblood like yourself supposed to act? You really love your position in the hemospectrum as well as the fact that you’re basically also the boss of an entire city (you mean, seriously, that’s what a governor is, right?). You spend a lot of time lazing around, ordering the lower-blooded trolls around and staring out windows and pretty much being quite useless and lazy. You loathe science with a passion and give any researchers you happen to meet a hard time about their work. In that aspect, you are also quite hypocritical, as you like to accuse lowbloods of being lazy while being pretty much a sloth with fins yourself.
You aren’t just proud of your rank and wealth, you’re proud of the fact that you’re quite decently strong and can swim very, VERY quickly (running is a whole different thing, though). You sometimes daydream about racing your lusus, but disregard the thought as your lusus is practically impossible to out-swim. She is just simply the best swimmer there is. You also wield the canekind specibus, but pretend it is a magical staff. You simply cannot get sillier than this. Though, since unlike those filthy lowbloods, you still have a decent brain and also have a gunkind specibus in case you need to get yourself out of any tough situations. Once the gun comes out, you turn plain vicious. Then, there’s your crossbowkind, which you rarely use but are rather proud of having.
Oh, and of course, your lusus. You haven’t mentioned what she is yet. Well, she’s a twenty-foot sea-snake with a mouth full of knives and a head full of evil. She is spiteful and malicious to everyone except you and trolls of your blood color and higher. She’s even kind of puppy-ish to you sometimes, but she usually acts like the kind of lusus who wants to get on your case every five seconds if you’re the least bit lazy, then caves in to your “needs” because she prefers to spoil you and let you have and do whatever you want. It’s the best life and best lusus you could ever ask for.
Your trolltag is lethargicAquariumkeeper and you typ3 qu1t3 n0rm4lly, s4v3 th3 f4ct th4t y0u pr3f3r t0 r3pl4c3 4ll 0f y0ur v0w3ls w1th numb3rs. 3xc3pt u. Th4t 0n3 c4n't b3 h3lp3d.
If you were to for some reason, play a certain game, you would be the Witch of Light and your Land would be the Land of Sunshine and Joy
TALITA MEGRUS
Your name is TALITA MEGRUS. You are a literature freak. But you are specifically interested in POETRY, in which you surround your hive with. Your lusus is named Layla, after a gazelle in a poem you read a long time ago. You pretty much spend your time READING whatever you can get your hands on, and don’t care much for other’s privacy.
You also take interest in BALLET DANCE. You like this specific type of DANCE because of its GRACE. You have an obsession with GRACE. Whoever is not GRACEFUL should be ashamed and maimed. Despite your bountiful amounts of GRACE, you are also seen as very VICIOUS, due to some of your habits, you suppose. You enjoy immersing yourself in FANTASY WORLDS from LITERATURE OTHER THAN POETRY, however enjoy reading the WISE WORDS of those written in POETRY just as much.
You cannot stand seeing or reading HORRIBLE SYNTAX. You tend to get a bit on EDGE and DRAMATIC about those things, occasionally leading to DEATH THREATS or INJURIES. You MAIM and KILL others sometimes, if they INCESSANTLY BOTHER YOU ON AND ON AND ON. Your TEMPER often gets OUT OF CONTROL EASILY. Though, you DON’T THINK MUCH OF IT and would NEVER CONSIDER THAT’S THE REASON WHY YOU’RE SEEN AS VICIOUS. NOPE. NOT AT ALL.
Your trolltag is gracefulGazella and “==> Talita speaks as if she is narrating or writing in third person.”
LAEKAH RIVVEN
>Be the OVERCONFIDENT DULL-GREENBLOOD
What? You cannot be a dull-greenblood because there is most definitely no dull greenblood in the vicinity! In fact, even insinuating such a thing is enough to make one angry!
>...Fine, be the COCKY BITCH
Your name is LAEKAH RIVVEN, and you are most definitely a GREENBLOOD.
You are quite loyal to the HEMOSPECTRUM - All of those lowbloods are shit and deserve the abuse heaped on them; you, on the other hand, are QUALITY. You take great pride in your work, and have no qualms about reporting the doings of potentially seditious lowbloods to those higher on the spectrum; they would do the same in your position, you have no doubt. Besides, everyone knows that lowbloods are inherently MINDLESS, VIOLENT CREATURES with no value except as LABORERS. They must be kept down lest they disrupt the order of things. You cannot deal with machinery of any sort except for the most basic of tasks; that is a job for LOWBLOODS. As a result, you have a deep distrust of ROBOTS.
You come across as SMOOTH AND REFINED for the most part, except when you are COVERED IN BLOOD. That kinda ruins the mood.
(In reality, you are a DULL-GREENBLOOD, just barely below the threshold of MIDBLOOD PROSPERITY. You hide your true blood color to the point where you almost believe that you are a greenblood, and do your work with an almost religious fervor so that you are not discovered. You have an embarassing VIOLENT STREAK which you tend only to exercise on the lowbloods you supervise, mostly because you will not be PUNISHED for that. You would fight a highblood if you ever got the chance and if you knew that you could escape any consequences, but ONLY THEN. Your view of the HEMOSPECTRUM is more of a functional one; you want to be as HIGH AS POSSIBLE, and resent the fact that others can LORD IT OVER YOU. Still, keeping in their good graces is USEFUL, and can provide GOOD INFORMATION to the right ears.
You are a DAMN GOOD LISTENER, by which you mean that you are good at picking out POTENTIALLY USEFUL SECRETS. BLACKMAIL is a fun diversion, almost as fun as a GOOD BRAWL. You don't really tend to see other trolls as PEOPLE, per se, as much as GAME PIECES to be moved however will best suit you. It's a DANGEROUS GAME, to be sure, but this is ALTERNIA. Nobody ever said life was going to be easy. Your deepest fear is that a highblood will realize that you are somewhat of a ROGUE, cheating the system, so you try and keep your embarrassing outbursts of RAGE as quiet as possible, and keep the 'potentially seditious' lowbloods between you and any close scrutiny.)
Your Strife Specibus is PROJECTILEKIND, as it is often preferable to be farther away from the action when there are multiple targets involved, but you also have FISTKIND for when a brawl seems to be brewing.
Your Fetch Modus is SECRET. To retrieve an item, you must correctly recall a piece of information attached to it.
Your trolltag is deadlyInsouciance, and your quirk is *So subtle as to be almost nonexistent.
HATIBE PELUNE
B]> Be the crippled Empress[/B]
zzzzzzzzzzzzz
>...okay then.
Your name is HATIBE PELUNE, and despite your fairly young age of 7.85 SWEEPS, you are expected to govern your floating city to the best of your abilities as EMPRESS. Yes, you have TYRANIAN PURPLE BLOOD, and you are constantly held by the feeling of being LESS than your position of EMPRESS. No one really likes your COMPANY, they only listen to you because you are of HIGH-BLOOD...well,except your many assailants, AKA trolls who want you dead.But enough about those sad, meaningless things, lets talk about sad things that matter!
As a wriggler, you suffered a terrible SPINAL INJURY due to a piece of MACHINERY. Your spine healed, but it healed incorrectly, and now it causes you a great deal of PAIN. So much so, that you must take EXTRA-STRENGTH medication, but even that is not enough, so you OVERDOSE. Your body compensates for this by making you go into a sort of HIBERNATION, and it doesn’t even matter WHERE you go to sleep. You fall asleep anywhere, everywhere, and nowhere in between. As such, your hive is mostly PADDED FLOORS and PILLOWS, so you don’t harm yourself when you suddenly fall asleep. Because of your injury, you have a CRIPPLE MENTALITY, meaning you are always a very nice troll, which is quite uncommon nowadays. You have developed into a empress who despises formalities, and is always trying to better the lives of the LOWER CLASSES.
Other than that, your life is fairly easy, despite having MOUNDS of paperwork to do to keep this city running. Being the empress is not all it’s crack up to be, and it’s especially hard for you since you can’t SWIM. Swimming requires one moving one’s spine, and seeing as you can’t quite do that, you live above water, on a little island in the center of the royalties’ DOME. It is a large IMPENETRABLE structure, that holds the largest body of water where all the seadwellers live...except you. You live on an island in the center, as mentioned previously. Because you live in such an area, you are able to keep a GARDEN, where you have a large collection of LAMP LILIES, a wondrous plant that comes in many forms, and collects sunlight during the day, and releases it in a GENTLE GLOW during the night. Theses lilies are your friends, due to the fact you are unable to interact with many trolls...damn your status. damn it to hell.
Other than gardening, you also COOK, and you even make your own special sort of TEA and FLOUR, created out of the LAMP LILIES. You try not to do many things with KNIVES, so you don’t STAB yourself in your sleep.
You have to STRIFE weapons, one being PILLOWKIND, which is a bit of a joke, although sadly it is the specibus you are most proficient in. The other specibus is PICHFORKKIND, which you use rarely, and you only use because the ROYAL TRIDENT was lost long ago. Your modus is NAP, where in order to obtain the item, you must be able to fall asleep on it, which is no problem for you thankfully!
Your TrollTag is languorousLilium and you zpeak in a way that zhowz how tired you are
AXEREN SADERN
> Be the Rebellious one.
Your name is Axeren Sadern, and you have lived in this city for Seven sweeps now. You are a red blood, the lowest of the low, essentially just manual labor. You aren't expected to do anything else besides work, in fact you are encouraged against Pursuing outside interests. Due to how the highbloods treat trolls of your cast, you have grown a general hate for them. Sure if you were too meet a nice one, MAYBE you would warm up to them, but you doubt a nice highblood even exists.
Despite it being frowned upon, when nobody is looking you like to enjoy a nice book. None of them are too controversial (Anybody that would dare write anything that insults the empire would instantly be culled) but they inspire you. They make you think of a life beyond the one you live. A life of freedom and adventure, as opposed as to the cruel harsh life you lead. Sometimes you write about the adventures you would go on. You write about a world where the caste system doesn't exist, and you can just leave this city. You hide these texts carefully, making sure NOBODY ever discovers them. If anybody discovered your personal opinions about the caste system, you would be Immediately be culled. It's not like anything you write about is going to happen anyway. There is no way Red bloods would become anything other than slaves. The thought has turned you slightly bitter over the sweeps.
You live in a rundown hive with your Pig-like Lusus. You have taken to calling him Hogdad. The only thing he has ever taught you is how to steal food from dumpsters. Feeding him is almost tougher than your actual work sometimes, due to how often he needs to be fed. You always complain about how you spend more time taking care of him, rather than him taking care of you. Despite all of your complaining, however, you have taken a liking to the creature, and would feel bad if any harm were to come to him.
Your fetch modus is set to Quiz, every time you want to retrieve an item, you must solve a quiz of varying difficulty. Your Strifespecibus is set toy scythekind, mainly because it is a useful tool for the labor you preform.
If you were to play a certain game, you would sleep on the dream moon of Prospit and your title would be the Scribe of Hope. Your land would be the land of Knowledge and Angels, and your consorts would be... angels. Your Denizen is Asteroth.
Your Trolltag is psychicJournalist and you like to emph@size your A's.
HISPID BURSTO
>Be the bumbling scientist.
ey, that'☡ in☡ulting to me
>Be the king of the rumba beat.
nOw that'☡ mOre like it.
Your name is HISPID BURSTO, and you work in the R&D department of a PRESTIGEOUS CORPORATION, whose name it not important, with the exception of it's initials: ZT. It's tough work, with constant attacks from CORPORATE TERROBUSTERS from rival corporations keeping you and your fellow employees on your toes. While most people would simply rely on the SECURITY FORCE, you have taken to dispensing VIGILANTE JUSTICE on their asses. Due to their smuggled weaponry, you have learned to use the environment to your advantage. You've learned to gouge out someone's eye with a wirecutter in the time it would take them to behead you with an energy sword. Of course, this is not without it's risks. You've nearly lost an arm or a leg fighting traitors, but a living scientist is better than a dead one, so you were patched up in the medbay without so much of a scar to your name. You were held as a hero of all things living.
Or at least, until you started getting bored. Research only consisted of assembling trinkets and deconstructing them in hopes that the cardboard piece of shit the higher-ups call a computer learns how to make more advanced SUPERMATTER CAPACITORS. So you started fucking around with the data. Deleting bits of data here, rewriting numbers, sending lewd pictures to highbloods. That sort of thing. Then you moved on to more entretaining ventures. You started strangling assistants who found themselves wandering dark corridors. Using the caustic gasses available to you to blow holes in the offices. To this very day, you still wonder how you weren't caught while doing that. You simply blamed it on the Terrobusters, or an innocent. Or both. All this is simplified because of your PSYCHIC POWERS, which allow you to create a large amount of volatile psychic energy on a specific place, essentially allowing you to blow shit up with your mind. Of course, you didn't entertain yourself solely by killing people. You also liked to annoy others. Dropping soap in a busy maintenance tunnel so that everyone slips on it, wiring a bike horn to a segway so that it never stops honking, (Although you stopped doing this after a nasty incident with a subjuggulator) and filling grenades with sopor. You had a lot of fun with that last one, since it almost caused a city-wide controversy after a famous pope attempted to pail with his moirail. All in a day's work, you say.
You live in your workplace dormitory, which despite being smaller than a normal hive, contains luxuries you wouldn't normally have. Your LUSUS is a small monkey, which would seem like a completely useless and weak Lusus, and it is, but you've thought it to use it's natural advantage of OPPOSABLE THUMBS to aid you in your quest to sabotage and annoy the fuck out of people. When it's not doing that, it likes to swing around the offices with a tool belt slung around it's arms like a bandolier. It's quite proficient at using those tools, often repairing walls after it breaks them.
As for your STRIFE SPECIBUS, you use IMPROVKIND, which allows you to use anything sharp or blunt against anything you'd like to hit. Unfortunately, you can't use any actual weapons, such as swords and guns. Using one thing too long as a weapon automatically switches the specibus for it, apparently. You've never used one thing long enough to find out. You use the CHEMISTRY MODUS, which requires a mixture of chemicals, and eventually Grist, to retrieve the item. Doing this takes much less Grist than it would take to create them, of course.
Your trollTag is bombasticAnalyst and yOu used tO wear the ☡T lOgO with pride, but nOw yOu u☡e it entirely irOnically.
When you finally get to play a certain GAME, you will be the KNIGHT OF CHANGE in the LAND OF FROGS AND ARSENALS.
THERIN KRISKI
> Be the one above it all. Try not to get killed for it.
… Fine, fine, if you incest.
Your name is THERIN KRISKI, and you think the caste system is ASININE and UNFOUNDED.
Yep, you said it. You hold no truck with the system as it is, and consider it the outdated relic of an age long past.
To your dismay, it seems to have most likely been propagated by a select group of UNUSUALLY NARCISSISTIC soon-to-be-highbloods, who were somehow capable of enforcing the regime until it became accepted. This was probably because of a gradual increase in the population of highbloods, which enabled the mass enslavement of the equally dangerous, but less populous lowbloods. You see, it all has to do with PAILING. Because highbloods live longer, and because they were naturally both more beautiful and of more concupiscent inclinations, as everyone knows, you’ve come to suspect that there was a point at which there was an overwhelming majority of them- a role reversal, of a sorts, which allowed for the uprising. You’ve yet to explain the subsequent DECLINE of the bluebloods, or why they suddenly LOOK LIKE EVERYONE ELSE, or even really why there is little historical EVIDENCE for this theory- although they might want to keep the caste-system a sort of mystical, immutable PARAMETER of troll life- but that DOESN’T MATTER. You’re RICH ENOUGH and barely HIGH ENOUGH in the caste system to not be worth the fuss of killing, so the highbloods let you do what you want. SWEET, MERCIFUL BASTARDS.
Of course, you don’t mention any of this when they’re in the room; you’re not THAT STUPID.
Yes, you said THEM, for you are not ACCEPTED by the highbloods, or even fellow tealbloods. You are VERY WELL ADJUSTED for your situation, though. You can easily make up for your SOCIAL TROUBLES by being the OPEN, UNBIASED EAR to each and every word a TROUBLED SOUL who steps through your door may say. You never guaranteed CONFIDENTIALITY, however, and so often store their WHISPERED SECRETS for when they are useful.
It is probably this acquaintance with the clandestine which has KEPT YOU ALIVE, as you, though politely, have occasionally MENTIONED your views on the caste system to SOMEWHAT TRUSTWORTHY CONFIDANTS. Naturally, you make sure to have a MODEST HEAP of their most compromising secrets recorded first. This is easily accomplished, as most of your acquaintances meet you through your HONORABLE PRACTICE... or your NEFARIOUS APPETITES.
Honorable first.
You are a young up-and-coming PSYCHOLOGIST, a field in high demand among your peers. You are considered a PRODIGY my some, but you suspect that a large portion of your colleagues think you’re a COOT. Once again, you’re too WELL-ADJUSTED to care for the doubters’ opinions. They keep coming to you, anyways- especially the lowbloods. Such sweet souls, the lot of them. In general, at least... You shake back some UNPLEASANT MEMORIES. They were abnormal. ABNORMAL, and in need of more help than you could give. You always DO WHAT YOU CAN, which often gets you IN DEEPER than you’d originally intended.
This brings you to your NEFARIOUS ENDEAVORS.
You... well, don’t have a reputation- see the WHISPERED SECRETS - but if you did, you would be known as a troll of DANGEROUS AMBITION and great PHYSICAL APPETITES. Thus, you are a well-known connoisseur of THE MORE VIBRANT QUADRANTS. Or would be. If people talked about you.
Secrets are BETTER THAN CAEGERS. So much better.
In any case, you have pailed with everyone and their matesprit in some form or fashion. Or so you like to think. Or don’t. It depends upon how good or horrible a day you’ve had.
Now, as you’ve said, secrets are far better than caegers, and this holds true from a HELPHELPSOMETHINGHELP (something to do with practicality and money) fashion, as well. It was The black affair of a certain seadweller that snagged you a HIVE in one of the better parts of town, far from the EDGE and still sporting NUMEROUS GATHERING-PLACES, QUIET NEIGHBORS and OCEAN VIE-
What are you saying? If you could see any ocean at all, it’s the ocean of debris and destruction below the city. You NEED ANOTHER STIFF DRINK, it seems. You’ve been needing those more often, what with your recent SPIRITUAL TURBULENCE and EMOTIONAL UPHEAVAL. You’ve yet to identify the source, but have come to suspect your BURGEONING PHYSICAL MATURITY plays a factor, as you are of the TENDER AGE of 6.9 SWEEPS. Of course, this deep pain has had a moderate effect on your behavior, but people UNDERSTAND. You’ve come to surmise that pain as DEEP and CUTTING as yours elicits a kind of universal sympathy from all but the most CALLOUS- nay, ABNORMAL OF MINDS. You’ve encountered enough of THOSE to make you WORRY for the STATE OF TROLLKIND- but enough of your philosophy. You talk about that TOO MUCH anyways, or so your NON-IMAGINARY (they are COPING TECHNIQUES) FRIENDS tell you.
Your trade in secrets and confidences has also helped your procure your very PRESTIGIOUS and EXPENSIVE modus. That is, naturally, your DIAGNOSIS modus. Simply put, in order to touch or store any item, you must first mentally identify some sort of DEFICIENCY or ABNORMALITY in its features. This is generally very convenient, but has led to some EMBARRASSING INCIDENTS. You once had to have a colleague of yours present a paper to your professor, because you couldn’t touch the physical copy. Still, you’re normally quite ADEPT at finding something wrong with everything you see. Thus, though the modus had originally been a gag from a former patient, but you’ve taken a BIT OF A SHINE to it.
Your “chosen” career - for there is so little choice in this ASINE SYSTEM - has graced you with the final gift. Namely, the GIFT OF GAB. Yes, you’ve been endowed with the capacity to not only SENSE and UNDERSTAND your peers’ and opponents’ CORE DRIVES, but are now capable of EXPLOITING these SOFT, VULNERABLE UNDERBELLIES. Through the sweeps, you’ve HONED YOUR TONGUE to a SHARP, MERCILESS POINT. This has become your STRIFE SPECIBUS, or wordKind. To you, words are more than MERE SYLLABLES. Words are THE SWORD THAT NEEDS NO WHETTING, that shall ENDURE and ADAPT and CONQUER, and that shall HAND VICTORY to those who best EMPLOY THEM.
… You don’t go on rants like that often. TIME FOR ANOTHER DRINK, and to give the caps-lock a rest. The SHIFT KEY will take over from here.
If you were to play a certain game, your title would most likely sound something like the SEER OF CHANGE.
You like long walks, nights of illicit passion, and a troll who knows how to handle his or herself. You can be found in your TASTEFUL HIVE tending to your LAMPLILLY GARDEN. All calls, business and pleasure, are welcome.
You can be contacted by your trolltag, probingStimulator, and you incest upon keeping a strictly pail relationship with your patients.
We have a shipping chart, yaaay.
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheet/...hl=en_US#gid=0
There is also an information chart.
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheet/...hl=en_US#gid=0
And finally, and ANCESTOR chart!
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheet/...hl=en_US#gid=0
Oh, one more thing. I am a lazy, lazy man, and wish to commune mostly through Skype. So when you PM me, make sure I get your Skype name as well. That way I can add you to the chat.
So, um, yeah. Any more questions, just ask below.








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