The modern world was full of things that absolutely depended on the man made magic of Electricity. Then one day, a massive solar storm hit the Earth, and all power across the globe failed. Humanity was thrown back into the Dark Ages, and chaos soon filled the streets. Without electricity, governments fell, unable to enforce the rules of civilized society any more. Gangs and community organization now rule the streets. As the average citizen struggles to survive, the most coveted resource is portable power generators and fuel reserves, the only sources of Electricity left to the Darkened World. This rp starts off in the city of New York.
Rules.
This is a Real world Rp, so HUMANS ONLY!
Romance and violence are encouraged, but remember the PG-13 limit.
While portable power generators are useful, they only work as long as they have fuel. Same goes for cars. The power crisis has severely limited fuel supply and distribution routes.
Solar power and other portable electric generation is allowed, so long as it wasn't hooked up during the solar storm. Portable solar battery chargers are also a hot item.
I think that takes care of everything. Post your profiles and have fun.
Posted: Sat Dec 17, 2016 6:31 pm
Profiles
Profile Skeleton.
Username:
Name: Age: Gender: Sexuality: (optional) Urban or Rural area.
Accepted Profiles.
Username: High_Assassin
Name: Alexander Age: 35 Gender: Male Sexuality: Strait City
Username: Chandra Panesar
Name: David Age: 21 Gender: Male Sexuality: Homosexual Urban area.
High_Assassin
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High_Assassin
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Posted: Sat Dec 17, 2016 6:56 pm
Alex rode through the strangely empty streets of New York on his bicycle. Before the massive power outage, and subsequent fuel shortage, this would have been suicide. Now, though, a bicycle was about the fastest way to get around. In fact, it was the only way, other than walking. It was a relatively sunny day, and without cars, he pretty much had the entire road to himself. He wasn't going anywhere special, just out for a pleasant ride, taking advantage of one of the few good things that had come out of losing all electricity. Well, almost all. He had a small MP3 player and a solar charger for it, so he had his music. He had to keep it hidden beneath his jacket, though, since anything remotely resembling technology made you an instant target these days.
Posted: Sun Dec 18, 2016 8:52 am
Reaching the docks, Alex briefly looked at all the container ships rusting empty at the dock. Their engines had been silent since the outage began, when fuel pumps no longer worked. They were too expensive to operate anyway, with the current fuel crisis. Their lifeboats, on the other hand, were small enough to row out into the bay. He had snuck onboard and stolen one, before everyone else realized the significance of this. He had hidden it in one of the many empty containers that now litterd the docks, making it virtually impossible to find. He would lock his bicycle up in the same container, while he took the lifeboat and a fishing rod out into Long Island Sound to try to catch some fish.
As he rowed out onto the water, Alex could only muse at how desperately the City had tried to maintain some sense of law and order, even going so far as to seize all gas stations to reserve what little fuel there was for their patrol cars. They had also seized all containers, and distributed whatever food there was as far as they could spread it. But the death knell of all of it came when politicians and police both realized that, without Electricity, direct deposit didn't work, and there was nowhere near enough money in the banks to pay for the entire city payroll in cash. Thousands of police had deserted, and though a few staunch officers remained, they were far to few to really enforce law and order in the city as they once had. These were dark times in the city, in more ways than one.
Name: David Age: 21 Gender: Male Sexuality: Homosexual Urban area.
David strapped on a somewhat worn pair of rollerblades, their once vibrant colors now scuffed and faded and the toe of the right one patched with duct tape. They weren't as pretty as they were four years ago, but they were still functional and got him where he needed to go. Also functional but donned much more reluctantly was a newer, but still scuffed, black helmet. David had never cared about wearing a helmet when he was younger and just skating for fun, but since the power had gone out, he had learned there were worse dangers than taking a nasty spill. His head had been busted open by an overzealous thief before; it wasn't fun. Especially not when, instead of a quiet ambulance ride, he'd made do with being stitched up right there on the side of the road by some old lady with a sewing kit while her husband poured bourbon on his wound and down his throat. David would rather avoid having that happen again. Nice old people though, he still dropped by now and again.
Finally David pulled on a thin, hooded black jacket over a nondescript gray tee shirt and blue jeans. The pants were a bit worn and frayed at the knees and he remembered with mild exasperation when he used to cut them on purpose. It felt like he was just a stupid kid back then, even though it was just a few years ago. These days, when his clothes looked worn out, it was because they were. And most of his clothing was; David didn't put much thought into how his clothes looked anymore. If his belly was full and he could actually smoke the occasional cigarette, then that was good enough for him.
Green eyes flicked over the empty streets under a fringe of blonde hair before David snatched up an old backpack and slung it over his shoulders. He rolled casually onto the road; there was no rush to get anywhere just yet. He wasn't carrying anything too valuable. But the nearly empty backpack proved to be his meal ticket on many days. All he had needed to do was meet a few people, establish who wanted to trade what with whom and cut them a deal. He put in the legwork, he moved small deliveries from one place to another, and the only fuel he needed was food, water, or a couple of cigs. It was way, way better than some things he had done for the same fee. The fingers of one hand twitched and David almost reached for a half smoked cancer stick, but he refrained. They weren't always easy to come by and he'd just smoked last night. He had to make what he had last. Damn, it was a hard addiction to break, even when he seemingly didn't have much choice.
Posted: Mon Dec 19, 2016 10:13 am
((So there ARE other rpers in this guild. And I thought this rp was going to be a bust. Glad to have you, Dave. biggrin ))
Alex had managed to catch a few fish, enough to feed him for a day or two. He rowed his stolen lifeboat back to the docks, and put it away, retrieving his bicycle. Next, he had to find something to burn, preferably wood, in order to cook the fish. He would try for one of the empty warehouses nearby. There might be some crates or something lying around that he could use.
((The RP subforum looked pretty dead when I joined; I wasn't so sure anyone would open anything new. This isn't the type of setting I usually play in, but I'm willing to give it a shot.))
It was a quiet day, but David was able to keep himself busy enough with his usual clients. He was winding down for the day, having just dropped off a handful of batteries that were exchanged for a bottle of what would have once been fairly cheap whiskey. He made the final drop near the docks and was about to make his way back along his route when he saw a stranger carrying fish. David stopped to stare at the man curiously; when had he last even seen fresh fish? He hadn't eaten anything that didn't come out of a can or foil in what seemed like forever. Where the hell did that guy get them? There was the obvious answer, of course; it was just obvious enough that David would have felt stupid asking. But he still almost wanted to ask; it wasn't all that common for him to see someone fishing.
Posted: Tue Dec 20, 2016 9:25 am
Chandra Panesar
((The RP subforum looked pretty dead when I joined; I wasn't so sure anyone would open anything new. This isn't the type of setting I usually play in, but I'm willing to give it a shot.))
It was a quiet day, but David was able to keep himself busy enough with his usual clients. He was winding down for the day, having just dropped off a handful of batteries that were exchanged for a bottle of what would have once been fairly cheap whiskey. He made the final drop near the docks and was about to make his way back along his route when he saw a stranger carrying fish. David stopped to stare at the man curiously; when had he last even seen fresh fish? He hadn't eaten anything that didn't come out of a can or foil in what seemed like forever. Where the hell did that guy get them? There was the obvious answer, of course; it was just obvious enough that David would have felt stupid asking. But he still almost wanted to ask; it wasn't all that common for him to see someone fishing.
((It WAS dead, and I wasn't sure anyone would even notice a new rp, so I made this one as a test run, just to gauge interest. Kelina's sig has at least one of my more typical rps, made in Barton Town. If I ever get more than one person to drop by this one, I may make a better rp for this guild. This one's just a test run, and so far it's not doing so well.))
Alex had managed to find a few pallets, which should do just nicely for cooking his fish. Now he needed to find someplace to cook them, that wouldn't draw a lot of attention. An old paint bucket was lying around, maybe he could use that. Of course, he would have to clean it first. Fortunately, among his limited supplies was a lighter, and lighter fluid to go with it. He squirted some lighter fluid all around the rim of the can, and watched as it slipped down the sides and pooled on the bottom. A quick piece of paper later, and the bucket was ablaze, burning off the paint inside the can. He would wait until the flames died down, rinse the can out in the bay, and then try to build another fire inside it to cook the fish. He still needed a grill, or a spit, but one problem at a time. He didn't even notice the stranger watching him, because nobody ever came to the docks these days.
The stranger hadn't seen him yet; he should probably just move on. He might even find more work that he could do instead of wasting his time just watching someone else. But David felt his curiosity getting the better of him and he rolled toward the stranger. "Hey." he called out before he had gotten too close; the last thing he wanted to do was to sneak up on a stranger. Especially a stranger carrying something worth stealing. "Need any help?" The guy didn't look like he needed help, but David wasn't going to roll up and say Hey, I just thought you wouldn't mind too much if I just watched you out of curiosity. Besides, maybe he could actually offer some help. Or maybe he'd be told to shove off and that would be that; he could get back to work.
Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2016 8:38 am
Chandra Panesar
The stranger hadn't seen him yet; he should probably just move on. He might even find more work that he could do instead of wasting his time just watching someone else. But David felt his curiosity getting the better of him and he rolled toward the stranger. "Hey." he called out before he had gotten too close; the last thing he wanted to do was to sneak up on a stranger. Especially a stranger carrying something worth stealing. "Need any help?" The guy didn't look like he needed help, but David wasn't going to roll up and say Hey, I just thought you wouldn't mind too much if I just watched you out of curiosity. Besides, maybe he could actually offer some help. Or maybe he'd be told to shove off and that would be that; he could get back to work.
Alex looked up to see someone else was on the docks. It appeared to be a younger man, in either his late teens or early twenties. Suspicion of all strangers was a given these days, so he reached into his pocket for his gun. They had been illegal in this city before the crisis, and technically, they still were, but there were scant few police officers left to enforce it, so the law was basically ignored. Still, the stranger had done something odd. He had called attention to himself before he got close enough to whack him on the head and steal his dinner, which was what most people in the city would have done. Now that he saw the guy, and had his hand on his weapon, he figured he could probably trust him, to a certain extent. "Not really, but if ya got anything to trade fer some of this fish, I might be willin ta do a deal." His southern accent was showing through. He had actually lived in Florida, and been stranded here in the Big Rotten Apple when the trains stopped running. He had never trusted aircraft, because if something went wrong at 30,000 feet, there was no pulling over in midair to effect repairs. Technically, the trains could still run even without power, but they had been shut down because of "security concerns." So he was stuck here, in this dreary city, struggling to survive and hopefully find a way back home.
David could see the stranger reach for something and he could guess that it was probably a weapon. At the very least, the man looked a bit more confident when his hand found what it was seeking and David had dealt with enough armed people to make an educated guess. He slowly held his hands up to about chest level with his empty palms showing. He wasn’t armed and he wasn’t going to make any sudden moves toward anything concealed. Not that he even had a concealed weapon; David didn’t own any that he could easily carry. He had a hockey stick and a baseball bat hidden in the squatter’s nest he called home and even those items were legitimately his old high school sports equipment. When the power went out, David hadn’t really thought about protecting himself; he had thought about what he would eat and how he would stay warm. Well, if he was honest, his first thought was anger over not being able to use his cell phone or tablet; he was so far removed from any consideration of personal protection. And now it was too late; weapons and ammunition were more valuable commodities than they had ever been before and he was never liable to own any. Not unless he was stupid enough to steal something he was meant to deliver and that was truly, truly stupid.
Hearing a thick southern accent made David blink; where was that from? Well, it didn’t matter; he could sort of understand the guy well enough. The question was, did he have anything to trade? David kept one hand up and visible as he slowly took off his backpack and settled it on the ground between his wheeled feet. He supposed that made it pretty easy to snatch the pack if the stranger was of a mind to, but it was a calculated risk. The guy seemed more concerned with protecting what was his than with taking what wasn’t. And, if David was wrong… Well, he just wasn’t suicidal enough to wrestle a guy he thought might be armed for a few canned goods, a can opener, one out of a pair of Pop Tarts, and three and a half cigarettes. Oh, how he would miss those cigarettes, but they weren’t worth his life. David unzipped the backpack at last. ”Well, now that you ask, I’ve got… Spam… corn… and pork and beans. And yams? When did I get yams?” He hated yams... Why did he accept yams? Oh, right... At the end of the day, edible was more important than whether he liked them. Still... yuck.
Posted: Fri Dec 23, 2016 6:56 pm
Most of the stuff there was certainly of interest to Alex. Spam, Pork and beans, Corn, Yams.. it sounded like this guy was planning a proper southern meal. But all he had to trade was three fresh fish, and he was going to keep at least one of them, so he had to weigh what they were worth compared to what this guy offered. "Okay, I'll trade ya one fish fer the spam, and another fer da pork N beans. And since it seems you don't particularly like yams, I'll take em in exchange for using my fire to cook the fish." It seemed fair to him. The fish actually provided more meat than either the spam or the pork and beans, and the guy didn't seem to like yams anyway. The difference was, he had no way to preserve the fish, so they would have to be eaten soon, while the spam, pork and beans, and even the yams could be stored for weeks if need be. It was less food, but it would last longer. He was even considering making it a full trade, all three fish for the specified items, but he wanted to make a lower offer first. After all, he needed food for his journey. The Autumn weather had been pleasant so far, but this city was going to be a miserable place to be when winter came around, especially with no heat.
In a way, this power outage might be a dream come true. He had always wanted to walk the Appalachian Trail, but had never been able to break away from work long enough to make any serious attempt. Now though, it seemed like the fastest way to get back to the warmer winters in the south, without going through whatever security barriers some governments still insisted on erecting on the main roads leading into towns and cities. So if he could keep at least one fish for himself, he could save all the traded food for later, when he was on his way south like a bird for the Winter.
The fish that the stranger had caught were of a decent size and David was sure that even one would make a more filling meal than he’d dared to eat in a while. But more than one seemed like a waste; he would have to scarf both down or hope the second didn’t get stolen. He didn’t even consider the possibility that the food might spoil; in his experience, fresh food just didn’t last long enough to spoil. Especially not once it was cooked; anyone who could smell it was liable to steal it if it wasn’t eaten right away. Of course, that was just part of the experience when he was just one of a group of unrelated squatters, each having little care for anyone besides themselves. David gave a smile that was almost a grimace when the stranger pointed out that he didn’t particularly like yams. That was an understatement. If he liked them at all, he might have thought to argue giving away that much food for a one time service, but… well, he hated them. ”More than one fish would be wasted on me, but I’ll trade you the spam for one. And the yams for use of the fire, like you said.”
It was pretty rare these days for David to even have a hot meal, let alone something fresh, cooked over a fire right before his eyes. It would be a real treat for him and it seemed worth it to him. He would fill his belly nice and tight for once; it would be fine if he just made sure to make it count for a while. Besides, who knew when he would next have the opportunity? Winter was drawing nearer with each day. People were drawing their belts tighter already, those who had belts. He rather doubted he would see any more lone fishermen hanging around the docks in the near future. ”So, did we have a deal?”
High_Assassin
Posted: Mon Dec 26, 2016 7:22 pm
(This looks interesting i'll give it a shot. smile i'll post in a few)
The fish that the stranger had caught were of a decent size and David was sure that even one would make a more filling meal than he’d dared to eat in a while. But more than one seemed like a waste; he would have to scarf both down or hope the second didn’t get stolen. He didn’t even consider the possibility that the food might spoil; in his experience, fresh food just didn’t last long enough to spoil. Especially not once it was cooked; anyone who could smell it was liable to steal it if it wasn’t eaten right away. Of course, that was just part of the experience when he was just one of a group of unrelated squatters, each having little care for anyone besides themselves. David gave a smile that was almost a grimace when the stranger pointed out that he didn’t particularly like yams. That was an understatement. If he liked them at all, he might have thought to argue giving away that much food for a one time service, but… well, he hated them. ”More than one fish would be wasted on me, but I’ll trade you the spam for one. And the yams for use of the fire, like you said.”
It was pretty rare these days for David to even have a hot meal, let alone something fresh, cooked over a fire right before his eyes. It would be a real treat for him and it seemed worth it to him. He would fill his belly nice and tight for once; it would be fine if he just made sure to make it count for a while. Besides, who knew when he would next have the opportunity? Winter was drawing nearer with each day. People were drawing their belts tighter already, those who had belts. He rather doubted he would see any more lone fishermen hanging around the docks in the near future. ”So, did we have a deal?”
It had worked out better that he had hoped. He had hoped, at most, to have one fish tonight, and some supplies for his upcoming journey south. Now he would have two, and if he cooked them well enough, he could wrap up the leftovers and maybe have dinner tomorrow as well. "Sounds good to me. Now, just let me wash out this ere bucket, and we can build that fire." By now that fire had charred and loosened all the remaining paint, so he would just have to wash it out real good, and make sure he got all of it out, before he put the wood in and made his cooking fire. Still holding his fish, he walked over to the edge of the dock, and dipped the bucket in the water. pulling it out, he took an old rag and scrubbed the bucket as best he could, getting most if not all the charring off the sides. Shaking it one more time, he went back to the woodpile. "Ok. ow we can build a fire, an cook these ere fishie's." He picked up some of the scrap lumber, broke off a few pieces, and soaked them in lighter fluid, before tossing in another piece of lit paper. As the fire grew, he put in larger pieces, then finally placed the fish on makeshift spits, and lay them over the top of the bucket. "So, how you gettin along in this city, now dat all the lights ave gone out?" Just because he wasn't going to be sticking around didn't mean he couldn't have a decent conversation over dinner.
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