Sins of the Cogwheel Republic [Sign-up]

[Blindsense]

Legend speaks of a time before the Cinderblight - a day and age where the lands outside of the city walls were lush with great bounty, and where magical creatures roamed the woods and forests. It is said that villages and hamlets dotted the fertile landscape, and that many people thrived outside of the fortified walls of the capital. It is even said that those who martyr themselves in the name of Vetrus, the Patron Saint of Judgement, are heralded to a realm where the hills still smell of sweet spring air, and the heroes are allowed to live for an eternity of pleasure and plenty.

Of course, such legends are just that - wives' tales fabricated to entertain young children and nothing more. Indeed, to the citizens of Rakken, the capital of the Great Varian Theocracy and the last remnant of the great empire that it once represented, such tales serve only to rekindle the bitter fear of the world beyond the city walls. Many generations had passed since the last of the satellite cities had crumbled and fallen; the men and women of Rakken knew quite well that as of today, only those that remained inside the city remained safe - remained alive, so that they might continue to toil towards some hope of salvation. It is unknown exactly how the other cities fell, or how its citizens were exposed to the hostile conditions of the Cinderblight; but whether it was a lack of resources or some attempted coup gone horribly wrong matters little. All that matters is that all citizens of Rakken are resoundingly and irrevocably alone.

Of course, not all hope is lost: The perils of this world are merely a test, after all. Life serves as a challenge of sorts, presented to the impure souls of Rakken by the Triumvirate. As such, every man, woman, and child works and toils in the factories by day and huddles together for warmth by night in hopes that their spirits may be judged in death and that they may live forever under the rule of Zentus the Allfather and his two eternal children.

It is rumored that some do not believe... But it matters little. Even if one were to overthrow the Grand Magister and incite a revolution, where would they lead the people of Rakken? Nothing lived beyond the walls - there was nothing outside of the glass sphere that encapsulated the city but smoke and ash. The red, smoldering sky that could be seen from dawn to dusk certainly attested to that. So what would a rebel gain from a coup? They would still have to feed thousands with scarce resources... And by overthrowing the Theocracy and rebelling against the Triumvirate, the rebels would remove the one strand of hope that the citizens of Rakken yet clung to. Truly, though a life in Rakken was painful at best, everyone knew that there was simply no alternative...

And anyone who proposed otherwise had a habit of disappearing.

May Zentus bear you into the promised land, and may you rest forevermore.

The Chant of Funeral Rite, verse 10



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Of course, wherever there is light, so too must there be darkness - and in the shadowy underbelly of Rakken lurked a discontented populace that starved for SOME possibility for escape. Some committed suicide, simply wanting an end to the suffering. Some threw themselves at the city guard, refusing to accept the authority of the shadowy, rarely-seen Grand Magistrate and his Dukes, the keepers of the holy books and the aristocracy of Rakken. Others still suspected corruption - but from this rumor came little more than quiet whispers. Even if there WAS corruption - even if the Dukes lived in opulence in secret grounds under the city like some supposed - it mattered little if nobody could hope to change the status quo without damning the entire city to a slow and painful starvation. As reviled as they sometimes were, the Dukes and the rest of the clergy were responsible for managing the vast under-earth farms that kept the city fed. Without their wisdom (and, some suggested, their blessings), the people of Rakken would surely wither away.

There was only one persistent rumor that seemed to take root amongst the common folk - a rumor that would get you arrested or even exiled (a fate worse than death) for whispering it near the wrong people. The Legend of the Wanderers, the rumor was called -a collection of tales regarding group of mercenaries, thieves, and assassins that were rumored to be able to survive the harsh conditions of the Cinderblight. In fact, some even suggested that they had settlements in the abandoned husks of former cities. They would enter Rakken through the sewers and skirt through the shadows using the same primal magic that allowed them to traverse the blight - magic, mind you, that represented the highest form of sacrilege in the eyes of the Church. Nobody ever mentioned their aims or their intentions - but spoke of each individual member as some otherwordly force, who could appear soundlessly, in the dead of night, and steal your unwatched infant, or inflict a miscarriage upon a new mother, or even place a terrible hex upon a young child.

According to the church, these demons were monsters of legend; it was customary to place a white palm print on your door to fend them off, lest they visit a terrible curse upon your household. The more disgruntled citizens of Rakken suggested otherwise. In the quietest of whispers, they spoke of vigilantes who knew some grand secret about the Theocracy and planned to overthrow it for good. Whether this action would prove to be to the benefit or the detriment of the average citizen was unknown: most said that their coming heralded the ultimate destruction, but the most disillusioned of men and women saw them as their saviors.

It is said that they can be summoned by placing a black palm print on the door of your home at midnight - but they shall only come if they judge you worthy of joining their cause. This is the situation that the six youths found themselves in on this moonless night, the alleys of the Rakken Slums illuminated only by the sickly copper-red light of the barely-functioning streetlamps. Six youths, barely past adulthood at best, who sought to find these rebels and help change the world...

Pity they had no idea what they were getting into.


Walk in the Night, for the Red Sun's Gaze is Scalding: Know only that you may trust none who swear fealty to the False God.

The Wanderer's Code



***

Whew! Well, that was a doozie! Sorry for the wall of text - I hope it piqued your interest though. This is going to be (hopefully) the first RP of many to touch this world of mine that I'm building. Mind you, it is not entirely fleshed out yet - not by a longshot - but I hope that was enough to at least generate some interest. Below you'll find the answers to some inevitable questions.

Q: What kind of RP is this going to be?

A: Dark Steampunk Fantasy, if I had to stick a specific genre on it. There will be magic, tech, and religious themes involved, as well as some PG-13 mature themes. This is NOT a sunshine and rainbows RP, unfortunately. People will die (potentially the characters themselves), and the stakes will be rather high.

Q: Will there be transformations?

A: Yes. They will not be a central theme, but they will occur: At least once for every PC and very likely more times in addition. Included in the character app (below) will be a list of transformation preferences: Please be detailed so that I might accommodate you!

Q: How many players are you taking?

A: Six. Period, end of story. First six to get their characters approved will be in. If you don't make it, fear not: I will hopefully be returning to this setting in the near future, so hang onto your ideas!

Q: How will this RP be run?

A: A very very simple dice-based DM experience. You won't have to do anything on your end other than write creatively and effectively. I'll do some very simple dice rolls (hidden to the players) for important, vital things like lethal combat, but other than that it will be all story driven.

Q: How can I apply?

A: I'm glad you asked!


Character Sheet
Name: Duh.
Age:16-22, please.
Gender/Sex: Also fairly straightforward.
Appearance: Picture will suffice. If not, 2 short paragraphs at least please!
Attitude/Personality:Two to three paragraphs, please.
History: Just one paragraph here - you're all lower class slum scum, so to speak: could be an orphan, could have parents, all of that is up to you. Just know that you're NOT well off and you are looking for a way out.
Asset: Pick from the following: Strength, Constitution, Intelligence, Cunning, Charm
Flaw: Same as above. Bear these in mind when creating your appearance, history, etc!
TF Preferences:Explained above.



How often will you update?
A: Hopefully once a day, or within 24 hours after the last person replies. Allow me some flexibility, I request - I am a college student, after all.




***

That seeeeems to cover it for now! Looking forward to exploring this new world with everyone. A few final notes for character creation:

Weaponry is mostly mechanized and restricted to the upper classes; you're unlikely to have anything but improvised bludgeons for now, though perhaps you swiped a pistol or a sword off of a snoozing guard.

The Church is all-powerful in this world, and their military strength is quite impressive. Be prepared to deal with zealots EVERYWHERE.


That's all I can think of for now. Please post below to show your interest and reserve a spot for your character sheets: first six to get approved are my people!

Regards,

Lily

[Nosnits]

Character Sheet
Name: W. G. Shiels. (Winston Ginan Shiels)
Prefers Winston, but is called Shiels by everyone else.

Age:16

Gender/Sex: Male

Appearance: Winston is short, sly youth, one of the many that worked in the factories, toiling away under the oppressive regime. Years of working, doing menial labour, and a lack of food had sapped made his body weak. His clothes were ragged, hand-me-downs like all the others, but they hung off his slim frame. His face, gaunt from hunger and work, was topped by his messy brown hair, haphazardly cut himself. But his most striking feature was his eyes.

His eyes, an emerald green, stood out in stark contrast to the brown of his hair and the dirt on his face. His eyes shined, almost sparkled, showing a much higher level of thought than that of lower class scum. Even though that inquisitive sparkle began to fade, replaced with sorrow, tempered by work and exhaustion, they still shined brighter than other's did.

Attitude/Personality: Winston is a bit closed off from others. He had been orphaned for nearly two years, and that experienced haunts him still. When he was younger, he was inquisitive, wishing to know all there was to know of the city, and the Allfather. He was a firm, ardent worshiper, until his parents and younger sister died. Winston always blamed himself with their death, and soon grew disillusioned with the Triumvirate. He finds it hard to make friends, or even harder to open up to others. But if he did ever find people he'd trust, he'd trust them with his life. He would give his life to save one of his friends, or if it would better the lives of those in the city.

Winston tends to be quiet, shy and catious. He'd rather sit and puzzle out a situation before jumping in. This goes with conversations as well: he'd normally make a small comment when others are talking, and sit and observe what they're talking about. He'd only speak up if he had anything important to add anyways.

History: Like all that grew up in Rakken, he worked in the factories. Though not particularly intellectually stimulating work, the young Winston worked hard, hoping to reach salvation. Unlike some others, who were orphans, he had something else: a family. A loving mother and father, and a sweet little sister. He perhaps had it best off of all the citizens, save those at the very top. That was, until the accident. His parents and sister were covering for him on his shift as he lay recovering at home, when a stray piece of machinery killed them. All at once, he was an orphan. He toiled away, disillusioned with the world, finding like-minded people over the course of two years. At midnight, he, like the other five, put the black handprint on his door, ready to do what it took to make the city better, no matter what the cost. He was living on borrowed time as it was.

Asset: Pick from the following: Intelligence

Flaw: Strength

TF Preferences: My TF preferences are quite broad. I like TG, and AR is alright, but I find it hard to put my finger on anything else, really. But, the most important thing to me is that the TF must be natural and feel like it belongs. Something that drives the character or the plot onward. If it's just a TF for the sake of TFing, shoehorned into the story out of the realm of feasibility, I'd rather not have a TF at all.

[Blaze]

Character Sheet

Name: Stewart Fulge

Age: 19

Gender/Sex: Male

Appearance: One look at Stewart would tell you that he got very lucky in terms of phenotypes. Thick hair the color of spun gold, striking, almost elfish features and powerful, magnetic blue eyes. His body is slim, waifish even and malnourished like everyone else in the slums but he hides it well under loose fitting clothes, obviously seen their fair share of owners, but they have been taken care of, much nicer than most you see. His skin is pale, more than most in the factories and he tends to have bags under his eyes, but they only added to draw attention to his mesmerizing eyes.

Attitude/Personality: Stewart is a conniving, charismatic young man who's entire approach to life revolves around the rule 'look out for yourself.' He has a knack for homing in on what people like to hear and has the acting ability to pull it off. He can come across as supportive and friendly one minute, to aloof and commanding the next.

Ever since he was young, he was inquisitive enough to ask questions that tended to get him thrashed. These thrashings only confirmed what he thought; the teachings of the Trimvirate relied on close-mindedness and fear of a worse situation. He pretends to be an ardent worshiper, if only to endear him to others. He is a pessimist at heart, approaching everything with the idea that low expectations means less disappointment and more pleasant surprises.

Stewart is very much a take-charge man, preferring to direct others according to their strengths and then hanging back to watch things unfold. Should things go sour, he'll cut those under his charge loose and retreat.

History: Stewart's father was a town guard who died trying to stop a mugging while off-duty. Not being able to support him, his mother sent him off to the orphanage. However, Stewart had only disdain for his father, but a degree of grudging admiration for his mother. His father got killed on a fool's errand, even though he was off-duty. However, his mother cut him loose the moment it was clear he would be a burden on her. He couldn't help but admire such selfishness.

At the orphanage, he was able to build and control a small gang of kids, ensuring a lifestyle that passed for 'comfortable' in a cramped orphanage in a slum. Upon becoming an adult and beginning work at a factory, he swiftly did the same, amassing a group of workers who would report to him, keeping others workers under their thumb.

However, he couldn't get out of doing work altogether, and his weak constitution was starting to haunt him. At the rate he was going, he knew he wouldn't last long in the factory. With this in mind, he put a black handprint on his tiny apartment door at midnight. He didn't really care about trying to improve things, he realized that a ragtag resistance wouldn't stand much of a chance. But even a small chance was better than none. A small chance to reach the top of the ladder, to rule with no one above him. That is his goal.

Asset: Charm
Flaw: Constitution

TF Preferences: TG and a bit of AR is fine with me. But, like Nos, I like TFs that serve the plot and make sense. If possible, I like TFs that add new capabilities to the character that they have to try and learn to use.

[Knight Errant]

Name: Feramin Droch

Age: 20

Gender/Sex: Male

Appearance: Tall and thin, he has shoulder length black hair, a raggedy black tophat, and a long weathered black trenchcoat that ends nearly at his ankles. The coat has many pockets on the insides, filled with odds and ends, necessities, and memories. All carefully padded to make as little noise as possible. He has green eyes and somewhat sharp, thin features that can be glimpsed between the high collar of his coat and the low brim of his hat.

Attitude/Personality: Feramin is quiet, curious, and industrious when he has the chance to be. He is quick to forgive and slow to anger... though if provoked long enough, his rage comes out hot and quick like a blast of steam.

History: Feramin was the son of a middleclass family. The only son of a couple, he worked with his father in their watch repair shop for many years. He had quite a knack for it, and would often fiddle with the mechanisms during his spare time... making small windup toys or custom clocks. Things changed when his mother died, suddenly from an illness. His father, needing something to focus on instead of the loss, began publically advocating leaving the city to try to try and refound one of the lost cities. His father was detained suddenly, quietly one night. His shop and home confiscated, and Feramin turned out onto the streets. Now Feramin wants to get out of the city... get revenge... get his father... if he is still alive.

Asset: Intelligence

Flaw: Strength

TF Preferences: Likes: Attractive, buxom women. Cute teenage girls. Monster girls and animated inanimates. Dislikes: Total inanimates. Extremes of age (very old or very young.)

[Feng]

Name: Pascal Bouchard

Insists people call him "Pascal the Cat", a nickname he picked for himself. Nobody does however.

Age: 16 (He insists he's sixteen and a half! o.o)

Gender: Male (Really! He is! o.o)

Appearance: Those who have seen Pascal in the market often mistake him for a young girl (much to his annoyance) due in part to his long black hair and slender build and girlish face. His wide brown eyes are lined with dark circles from many a sleepless night running from the city watch. Yet despite the years of insomnia and scraping by on the scraps acquired from a lifestyle of stealing and running, Pascal's dirty, feminine face still retains a strong air of youthfulness to it~!

Pascal dresses in what ill-fitting clothes he can find "lying around." Currently he dresses in a knee length poncho that has only further confounded the identity of his gender to strangers. Underneath that he wears a pair of trousers that thankfully somewhat fits his frame and a tattered grease stained shirt that belonged to an overseer in the factories. Since he does not cut his hair, he instead keeps it tied in a ponytail to keep the stray locks from interfering from his vision. Finally, a loose pair of goggles (a curious knickknack he acquired from dumpster diving a year back) hang around his neck.

Attitude: Despite being forced to live on the streets after the death of his family, Pascal still retains a strong sense of optimism that helps him get through each new day as it comes. Insatiably curious, Pascal will go through great lengths to learn about topics that catch his fancy. When Pascal is not scurrying across rooftops and through the mazelike alleyways of Rekkan in search of spoils to sell at the black market, he can often be spotted catching up on the latest gossip of the happenings in the city.

Ever since he was a child Pascal has been fascinated by the legends of the old days, the time before the Cinderblight. Someday he hopes to find a means of escaping the suffocating confines of the domed city and see what really lurks beneath the red sky. He has little interest in the rhetoric of the Triumvirate, finding the description of a blissful afterlife to be quite boring in comparison to the great unknown that exists just outside the walls. o.o

History: Pascal's life as a street rat began at the age of three when plague deprived him of his parents and siblings. Winding up in the custody of the city's orphanage, Pascal soon escaped and made for the back alleys of the city where he learned to earn a meager living by selling stolen fabric and gossip to the black market. In his dealings with the shadowy underworld of Rekkan, Pascal learned of the rumors of wanderers who dwelt outside the walls and the means to contact them. Deciding that he had nothing to lose, Pascal scrawled the black hand print on the makeshift door of his home, the makeshift ruins of a rooftop apartment where he had once lived long ago...

Asset: Cunning - Pascal relies on his wits and sharp senses to earn his daily bread and to elude the patrolling guards.

Flaw: Constitution- While Pascal survived the illness that ultimately robbed him of his family, the sickness robbed him of the stamina required to endure the work in the unforgiving factories, forcing him to move to the streets.

TF Preferences: I am good with TG and some AP but am wary of AR. Aside from full furies (cat girls are OK) I am open to pretty much anything you intend to throw at Pascal.

[ashuros]

Here’s my Character Sheet, feel free to let me know if I need to change anything.

Name: Anthony Julius
Age: 20
Gender/Sex: Male

Appearance:
Anthony is a tall man with a definite muscle tone. The most immediately noticeable feature of Anthony is the series of bandages covering his face from below his noise down to the upper half of his torso. The burns themselves are not overly serious and appear largely as a bright reddish splotches on the effected regions of skin. Anthony carriers himself with confidence almost rebelling against any pain he feels at the moment.

His sandy blond hair is fairly shaggy but short, the very back of it is slightly burnt. His sharp green eyes, frame what was considered a handsome face and often stare with a now unnerving intensity. Anthony speaks with an occasional couth. At the moment Anthony is wearing a black ragged shirt and trousers along with some sandals.

Attitude/Personality: Under normal circumstances Anthony is a upbeat and friendly person and while he often put his own needs first will none less empathize with many people around him. He has a strong work ethic and is quick to shrug off pain or tiredness if a task needs finishing. Though especially now he often questions his faith he remains a believer of Zentus none the less he does not believe in blindly following the clergy.

Anthony is still grieving for his family and is desperate for someone to direct his anger at. At the moment he tends to act impulsively without questioning the consequences of his actions. Though he will lie about it, he is afraid of dying at a young age and cannot stand the sight of his burns as a result.


History:

Anthony came from a pious family which while still poor it was able to earn enough through trading between the lower caste and running errands for the upper caste to provide shelter, food and in some rare cases some minor comforts. Anthony like all his family worked hard, safe in the knowledge that eventually when he grew old the younger generation would care for him as he did for his elders.
But soon the world would remind Anthony that he and his family were not safe even in numbers. Late one night after a day of tireless work, a fire broke out within the tiny Julius home , the shelter that had protected his family for more than 2 generations had become a death trap, many died in their sleep from the thick smoke produced Anthony may have too, had not the fire spread to his room as quickly as it did. Woken by an intense burn, Anthon fuelled by adrenaline and dazed by the smoke could only rush through the blaze and collapse once he had reached safety.

Waking long after the fire had be put out, Anthony searched his home finding only the ash and charred body parts, it seemed that some time after the fire, what little savings they had had been ransacked. Taking his own meagre savings which he had carefully hid under some floorboards, Anthony left his home to seek what passed for medical treatment. After being bandaged up and told his chances to make through the year his burns weren’t the best Anthony returned to his empty charred home. The young man spent the rest of the day sitting and thinking. Either it was true or not he couldn’t believe that the fire was an accident and if that was truly the case whoever was responsible needed to pay for ending so many lives in one quick action. Knowing that such justice could only be achieved himself and that the cities lords would never likely allow it, he took the black ash littered in the house and stained this front door with his hand print before sitting down and staring up at his ceiling hoping for sleep.

Asset: Constitution

Flaw: Charm

TF Preferences: I’m open to most changes save for maybe excessive AR. I like tg, minor mental re-writes and android themed tf (though I’m not too sure how well match to the setting.) but I like surprises so don’t be afraid to hit Anthony with one.

[Vomica]

Name: Abraham 'Abra' Ekiel
Age: 21
Gender/Sex: Male

Appearance:
Abraham, or Abra as one of his many nick names seems to be, is not that impressive of a sight, at least when it comes to things as appearance. He's the example of what happens to a boy growing up in a realm of hard physical labor, and a polluted one at that. The age old stereotype of the coal covered child miners from the 1800's aren't that far off. The man has short auburn colored hair, and eyes dark enough to match those. Speaking of hair, Abra is covered is a decent amount of body hair -- thick enough so that is is notable. His hands are thickly calloused from tedious work, and his skin is thick having been blasted by the heat of furnaces, and exposed to the soot and debris from the scavenge heaps. ...he has that worn out look to him over all. Not tired, but a tried look.

His clothing matches the looks of his body. Faded and worn on trousers, with a thick work shirt. For footwear he sports a pair of old leather boots. They are scraped up, and patched here or there. However they look like they are serviceable. Physique was, Abra is a bit barrel chested, looking like someone who'd make a great hockey goalie. As in he's wide, and could take several heavy hits before calling it quits. His muscles are well built, but overalls he's more like a mule then a race horse. Good at long hours, rather then quick sprints.

Attitude/Personality: When it comes to Abraham, you apparently can judge a book by it's cover. As grimmy and worn out as he looks, his personality reflects that to a fair degree. He's reserved in most social situations, but his good friends will note that he has a sense of humor. A man of few words, at least until he warms up to people, when he speaks -- he speaks to be heard. Abra is a patient one, slow to trust people, but once that trust is earned -- he has a long memory. And beyond saying he is steadfast, reserved, and many other synonyms for that -- he does have one other quality. Hope. Deep down he is a dreamer, going through the worst of what this life has to throw at him (So far), because he believes that someday, somehow, he'll rise up out of the muck... and make the world a better place. Perhaps for just the family he hopes to father someday, or the entire city. ...but that is the one time he is not pragmatic and worldly. When his eyes set on the horizon, and he drifts out to his day dreams of a brighter tomorrow.

History: Abraham does not have a glittery back story, no fame, no glory here. Just your average man. But there is still a story. Every culture has it's lower rungs of socity, and that might be more true then usual in this world. Abraham's family comes from such a class, so low they are almost vagabonds. His father and mother basically did odd jobs. Working the furnaces to keep the city's air supply flowing and warm. Shifting through the salvage heaps for what they could find -- things to sell, and things that they couldn't -- hopefully to reuse. As with any family of this era, the more kids one's have is more an insurance policy for old age -- so that you're more likely to have someone there to take care of you in the advanced years. Therefore, Abra has a good number of siblings. He's a middle child though... and even skilled at picking through garbage as he was... he needed to go off on his own eventually.

After reaching the age of majority, he set off on his own. Staying in something no better then a hovel. Eventually he'd try to raise his social status, but to do that? He'd have to deal with more seedy residents of the city. And as all stories like that goes, eventually he bit off more then he could chew. Who knows what all those details are? But more importantly. He has a reason to be in that alley, to be one of the six.

Asset: Pick from the following: Constitution
Flaw: Charm

TF Preferences: TG (I think that goes without saying). And this won't surprise those that know me -- AR. That being said, I am open to almost any TF -- method, final form, etc. However I am not a major fan of severe mental changes, and the more restricting they are the more difficult it is for me to enjoy the RP. Regardless, mental changes and the few other hesitations I have can be fun, if done for interesting RP. The only thing I won't tolerate however is... well with the RPs PG-13 rating it's all good. As long at that rating isn't surpassed, there won't be any negative thoughts from me!


(And this is all just a draft. With no knowledge, beyond the settings post, of the RP world. Hopefully this is fitting, but if there are any thoughts or comments... you know where to find me Blindsense.)

[Blindsense]

All looking very good, guys. You're all approved - I plan on having the first post up by Friday (Would do it sooner, but I wanna wait on our sixth member - also have an exam to study for... ). Looking forward to playing with all of you!