WishBone
One who walks between the physical and the digital
Dangerous Business
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Idea:
Into the far flung future - where the days of Earth are but whispers of a long golden age and mankind has sailed upon that infinite sea. The empire of humanity over a millenia ago - united under a common banner, cause, industry and innovation is but a shadow of its former self. Warring factions, freebooters and deeply seated grudges, percieved slights a mirade of cultures. It wasn't fate that brough you to this hard frontier, all of you were born into houses that bestowed to you the priviledge of owning such advanced and desired war machines. Planets would go to war on a whiff that even a titanic machine of the golden age was left unclaimed, ancient battlefields scoured for the lost artifacts of technology and even today - a large majority cannot be reproduced only parts manufactured and some salvaged from other warmechs. Hence the term - remove the meat, and leave the body.
However - things always have a destiny of getting worse. If it wasn't another titanic war between two empires - or a spat over chartered space between factions. This situation takes the cake and in this dire situation - the money is good, the honor and glory ripe for the taking. But, there's always a catch. A clause to ensure that someone at one end of the table is getting screwed and fucked - no surprise its you. Due to your choices, desperation or a dire need of the work - this pulled you here and the work is endless, plentiful as is the pay. There's risks, loss of life and loss of mechs - which is common in any warzone. Thing is, the enemy we arent facing isnt human and its been surprisingly adaptable and instead of the remove the meat, pilots who have been deemed KIA - later are seen, days or weeks later fighting their friends, family and own allies with suits that while armoured bleed and house teeth, claws and organic projectiles.
After eighty long years they finally did it, capture one of the fallen pilots.
While looking human, they were faster, stronger and much more leathal than expected - even after a sample while they look like us - this only goes skin deep as their makeup from the genetics rounded up are altered, changed to the point where most assessments are leagues ahead. Interrogation resulted only getting one answer, "Surrender and become apart of something more, than you could ever dream." As planets were swarmed, cities infested - the victims of such attacks also became under the sway. This biological warfare, monitored at range revealed that they were able to communicate - co-ordinate as if a collective thought bound them to some unseen purpose. That is, until the MIK opted to glass the planet, turning it into one of the horrific moments in this encroaching war.
The catch is, you sign on. If you die within your tenure, your war gear becomes apart of the war effort.
If you survive six years, you will have earned more than enough to retire mostly because of the specimens you kill. THe addtional perk being you are allowed to be repaired, rearmed and have skilled technicians work upon your war machine without additional cost. You in this scenario - are someone who has watched your house, warband or fellow mech pilots that went into its together only to be torn apart, killed down to the last mech on the field in the most recent encroachment. You survived and thats whats valuable - can you handle the grief of survivors guilt and be enough to connect, set aside differences to ensure the survaval of our species.
You can quit and leave at any time, you just wont get paid and while you can leave - there will be no repairs made.
Which will win more.
Your sanity. Or your ego or your motivation?
Inspiration Music theme:
CANOPUS - A Synthwave Mix for Mechwarriors
I need four players with drive, a commitment to post well and more than just two fucking lines.
Happy to brainstorm. Collaborate.
Character Dossier:
1. Kerra Astra Veliti - Callsign: Princess - Humon
2. Callsign: Hamelin - MisterBrown
3.
4.
Lets see what you got.
Into the far flung future - where the days of Earth are but whispers of a long golden age and mankind has sailed upon that infinite sea. The empire of humanity over a millenia ago - united under a common banner, cause, industry and innovation is but a shadow of its former self. Warring factions, freebooters and deeply seated grudges, percieved slights a mirade of cultures. It wasn't fate that brough you to this hard frontier, all of you were born into houses that bestowed to you the priviledge of owning such advanced and desired war machines. Planets would go to war on a whiff that even a titanic machine of the golden age was left unclaimed, ancient battlefields scoured for the lost artifacts of technology and even today - a large majority cannot be reproduced only parts manufactured and some salvaged from other warmechs. Hence the term - remove the meat, and leave the body.
However - things always have a destiny of getting worse. If it wasn't another titanic war between two empires - or a spat over chartered space between factions. This situation takes the cake and in this dire situation - the money is good, the honor and glory ripe for the taking. But, there's always a catch. A clause to ensure that someone at one end of the table is getting screwed and fucked - no surprise its you. Due to your choices, desperation or a dire need of the work - this pulled you here and the work is endless, plentiful as is the pay. There's risks, loss of life and loss of mechs - which is common in any warzone. Thing is, the enemy we arent facing isnt human and its been surprisingly adaptable and instead of the remove the meat, pilots who have been deemed KIA - later are seen, days or weeks later fighting their friends, family and own allies with suits that while armoured bleed and house teeth, claws and organic projectiles.
After eighty long years they finally did it, capture one of the fallen pilots.
While looking human, they were faster, stronger and much more leathal than expected - even after a sample while they look like us - this only goes skin deep as their makeup from the genetics rounded up are altered, changed to the point where most assessments are leagues ahead. Interrogation resulted only getting one answer, "Surrender and become apart of something more, than you could ever dream." As planets were swarmed, cities infested - the victims of such attacks also became under the sway. This biological warfare, monitored at range revealed that they were able to communicate - co-ordinate as if a collective thought bound them to some unseen purpose. That is, until the MIK opted to glass the planet, turning it into one of the horrific moments in this encroaching war.
The catch is, you sign on. If you die within your tenure, your war gear becomes apart of the war effort.
If you survive six years, you will have earned more than enough to retire mostly because of the specimens you kill. THe addtional perk being you are allowed to be repaired, rearmed and have skilled technicians work upon your war machine without additional cost. You in this scenario - are someone who has watched your house, warband or fellow mech pilots that went into its together only to be torn apart, killed down to the last mech on the field in the most recent encroachment. You survived and thats whats valuable - can you handle the grief of survivors guilt and be enough to connect, set aside differences to ensure the survaval of our species.
You can quit and leave at any time, you just wont get paid and while you can leave - there will be no repairs made.
Which will win more.
Your sanity. Or your ego or your motivation?
Inspiration Music theme:
CANOPUS - A Synthwave Mix for Mechwarriors
I need four players with drive, a commitment to post well and more than just two fucking lines.
Happy to brainstorm. Collaborate.
Character Dossier:
1. Kerra Astra Veliti - Callsign: Princess - Humon
2. Callsign: Hamelin - MisterBrown
3.
4.
Lets see what you got.
Last edited: