T
The Watch Dog
Guest
Original poster
"The year is 2059. Welcome to the future, pal.
You seem confused. What's troubling you? Something in your mind that's bugging you? Or maybe its all these exhaust fumes that cause you headaches and breathing instabilities? Spare yourself a moment to recover, you've been away for long enough. It's about time to return though.
You spent the last couple of years sleeping. Or, to be more precise, you were under development. It is only normal to feel out of place. You don't belong here after all. You belong to the drug reality that Neurostash kicks you in. It's only a side effect though. You'll shake it off soon enough.
Look around you. Stare into the night, deep inside the view of the washed out metallic structures, the dirty glance of the mirror glass panes surrounding every corner of every building, feel the poisoned air penetrate your lungs and leave you breathless, as you realize that you are no more in the city you used to live in thirty years ago.
This is New Massachusetts. Welcome to the world's leading city of technology and progress. It's about time I introduced myself. My name is Deus. And I am the one who brought you here. You should thank me, for I am the reason you are still alive, pal.
What's that? Have you forgotten already who you are? Let me remind you of your identity then. You are nothing more than some rather troubling criminal, condemned to death penalty. It is sheer luck that you made it out of there alive. I picked you up, while you were almost dead, and sneaked you out of the facility with a bullet planted into your chest.
I worked on you. Quite a lot. Took out that faultering organs that were damaged and replaced them with state of the art artificial ones. You are half man half machine now. And you are better than ever. But you know, I had to work on you for quite a lot of time. So you'd better earn some cash to pay me back.
Oh, did you think that you'd sneak away with all that cool jazz on you just like that? No, of course not. You belong to me now. And I'm gonna sell you away. To the highest bidder, that is. There's quite a big need for all kinds of workers, especially augmented ones around this city. The industries need you to help wage war against their affiliates. Economic war. Work to survive. Earn your keep, or I'll cut your supply of Neurostash, and then you will collapse within the blink of an eye.
We've spoken long enough, pal. Deus' got to get going. You'd better follow me, now. Let's hope there still is some buyer left in the aug market."
You seem confused. What's troubling you? Something in your mind that's bugging you? Or maybe its all these exhaust fumes that cause you headaches and breathing instabilities? Spare yourself a moment to recover, you've been away for long enough. It's about time to return though.
You spent the last couple of years sleeping. Or, to be more precise, you were under development. It is only normal to feel out of place. You don't belong here after all. You belong to the drug reality that Neurostash kicks you in. It's only a side effect though. You'll shake it off soon enough.
Look around you. Stare into the night, deep inside the view of the washed out metallic structures, the dirty glance of the mirror glass panes surrounding every corner of every building, feel the poisoned air penetrate your lungs and leave you breathless, as you realize that you are no more in the city you used to live in thirty years ago.
This is New Massachusetts. Welcome to the world's leading city of technology and progress. It's about time I introduced myself. My name is Deus. And I am the one who brought you here. You should thank me, for I am the reason you are still alive, pal.
What's that? Have you forgotten already who you are? Let me remind you of your identity then. You are nothing more than some rather troubling criminal, condemned to death penalty. It is sheer luck that you made it out of there alive. I picked you up, while you were almost dead, and sneaked you out of the facility with a bullet planted into your chest.
I worked on you. Quite a lot. Took out that faultering organs that were damaged and replaced them with state of the art artificial ones. You are half man half machine now. And you are better than ever. But you know, I had to work on you for quite a lot of time. So you'd better earn some cash to pay me back.
Oh, did you think that you'd sneak away with all that cool jazz on you just like that? No, of course not. You belong to me now. And I'm gonna sell you away. To the highest bidder, that is. There's quite a big need for all kinds of workers, especially augmented ones around this city. The industries need you to help wage war against their affiliates. Economic war. Work to survive. Earn your keep, or I'll cut your supply of Neurostash, and then you will collapse within the blink of an eye.
We've spoken long enough, pal. Deus' got to get going. You'd better follow me, now. Let's hope there still is some buyer left in the aug market."
[||: "21:03" :||]
November. What a silent time of the year. The entire city slips into slumber, the traffic jam and the buzzing lightings are the only things that keep the view alive nowadays. The sky is dark, and the atmosphere is heavy. Pollution is at rise during these months. Some people prefer not to go out at all; others only wander around the city to get to their workplaces. Hovertracks and other automated machinery are the main exhibits of the city streets. Sometimes gunfires can be heard, or alarms ringing all over the town. This city is a depressing place to live in. But when you have spent your entire lifetime contributing to its development, it is hard to let it go.
Royce stared into the weathered horizon of New Massachusetts, standing on top of the Arkwright Industries helipad, where all the blue of the sky has been replaced with dark gray, or even carbon black. The people residing here don't add up much into the aesthetic touch of the city. They only seem to be gear pieces that keep the machine going. Their personality is one. Uniqueness and individuality is just a bed time story.
A rather soothing voice of his personal A.I. assistant was heard from behind his back; "Mr. Arkwright, your ride has arrived." Suddenly, the silent mood of the city was interrupted by the familiar, beastly noise, generated by the engine of his private Skycar landing on the helipad. After a moment of ear-smashing screeching, the engine finally stopped, as the Skycar has finished landing procedures.
"Mr. Arkwright, it's time to go." The pilot of the Skycar was heard saying.
"Give me a second, Alina." Royce replied. "I've got something to check on."
The key words activated the Assistant; "Anything I can help you with, sir?" the A.I. commuted.
Royce stared deep into the horizon, trying to catch an eye over the Market. The moody day was blocking his line of sight. The dim light of the evening, compared with the heavy barrier of the exhaust fumes, made it almost impossible to see into the city in a hundred mile radius. "What's today's economic forecast?"
A small tickling sound notified Royce that the Assistant was now accessing the World Wide Grid. "COMMcast reports a two point sixty two percentage of price fluctuation, with an additional ten percent chance of the global market going bankrupt overnight." The usual COMMcast crap, Royce thought. Whenever someone reported such high chances of the worldwide economic scene breaking down, COMMcast personnel would always be there to prep some new scandal to broadcast. "Sounds fine enough to me." Royce concluded, and went towards the Skycar waiting for his embark.
"How're you doing, Alina?" Royce asked the young woman sitting in the pilot's position into the Skycar. She was a beautiful girl at the age of twenty six, with deep blue eyes and long, golden hair showering her back. Hard working and commiting, she has been loyal to Royce since she graduated from the Arkwright Industrial Academy, the tuitioning foundation his father created two decades ago. An insitute dedicated to training passionate teenagers to become a part of the Industries.
"Fine enough, sir." Alina replied. "I've been having some problem operating the Bluebird Shuttle lately..."
"Did you drop by our hospital? Make sure there's nothing wrong with your health." Royce replied.
"They said I'm ok. Maybe all I need is some rest. I've been working hard on that project lately."
The Bluebird Shuttle was a new project that the company was undertaking and funding the past couple of months. It involved the help of brilliant scientists from all around the world to pledge into the development of a superfast orbital transport cruiser, capable of carrying and transporting kilotons of cargo with supersonic speed over all around the world, and on the Martian colony which was growing big. Once the project was finished, the Bluebird Shuttle would be the first commercially available cruiser capable of interplanetary flights and large scale transport. It would launch Arkwright into the Fortune 500 overnight. Alina was the main tester of the flight systems of the ship.
"Fly me to the Market, Alina, then go back to the Living Quarters and get some sleep. You deserve it." Royce replied, kindly. "I sincerely thank you, sir." The pilot replied, feeling relieved. "Are you looking for something specific there, sir?" she asked the passenger of the Skycar.
"Yes, Alina. I'm looking for a slave. I have some... business, to conduct with Europa Corporation." Business, was the most suitable of words to use instead of assassination...
` LETTER OF PURCHASE `
---Seller: CLASSIFIED*
Age: CLASSIFIED
Bio: [REDACTED]. Works for [REDACTED].
---Buyer: Royce Arkwright *
Age: 37
Bio: CEO of Arkwright Industries.
---Product: Augmented Personnel *
|| Licenced as a VALID market product in 2042, under Law #309 of Corporate Business. ||
Name: John Dukes
Nationality: Mexican
#4033109
---Details: (Purchase conducted at "21:49" time, "12 November 2059")
Price: $21,000,000 *
Seller's words: "Paid under Mr. Arkwright's personal bank account."
Buyer's words: "Purchased to be enlisted in the workforce of Arkwright Industries."
RESULT OF PURCHASE: Transaction Completed.
Numer #4033109 is now legal property of Arkwright Industries.
` End of receipt.
Official Market Council legal receipt notice, copyright OMC. 12.11.2059
Protected by Law #5 of Consumer Agreement Policy, USA, 14.2.2034
Protected by Law #5 of Consumer Agreement Policy, USA, 14.2.2034
Welcome to the world of Futurepunk.
The above pieces of lore serve as the starting grounds of an idea to create a living, breathing modern futuristic setting, inspired by many masterpieces of the entertainment industry that have visualised the future in many controversial ways.
The dystopian setting of Futurepunk is the city of New Massachusetts, a metropolis built on the remnants of the old and widely known city that hosts the Massachusetts Instute of Technology, the world's leading research and studying foundation. The city was picked for its sheer uniqueness, and also to stage a setting that features cutting edge technological progress that has defined the shape of the world in 2059.
The lore is big and expanding. Players could assume the roles of citizens of the city, working for megacorporations such as Arkwright Industries, Europa Corporation, or COMMcast. The washed out city hub servers as an ideal stage for an industrial roleplay that has the players compete against the industry, starting their own, or working on improving the one they work for.
I'm running this interest check to see how many people would like to participate in such a roleplay. If you have any questions or suggestions to make feel free to post them here.
Here is some reference art for New Massachusetts:
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