sun.'s testing thread: Caution! Very hot!

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THE SITUATION:
In 1589, the lowly tekiya Toshiuji came across a strange pot, given to him by a man with dark complexion, who spoke little and revealed even less. Despite Toshiuji’s suspicion, a gift was a gift, and the mystery surrounding the pot promised a good margin. However, even after a year, Toshiuji could not sell the pot. The distrust towards his kind aside, people feared the sheer presence of the pot, whose outside was adorned by a vacuous grin, its eyes squeezed and bulbuous, and the pot’s gaze seemed to repel even the most daring of men. Toshiuji died as most tekiya did at the time; poor and forgotten. The pot changed ownership quite frequently after, until it eventually ended in the possession of the powerful daimyō Toyotomi Hideyoshi, who would soon see his power decline after its acquisition. One of his subordinates formed a small delegation. They were discreetly moved out of Japan, hidden from the public eye, and survived a journey across the world, setting foot onto the new world.

There, the delegation would bury the pot, deep into the red sand of what would eventually become the Mexican desert, hoping to bury its terrible powers with it. And while the Japanese delegation returned home, their acts would have disastrous effects on not just the now unified Japan, but the world at large. Just two years later, towards the end of the 17th century, the pot was found by a small gang of outlaws, who recklessly smashed it. Lavender haze emerged from the shattered remains, and swept across the land, endless and thick.

The unruly Americas would soon find themselves invaded by hordes emerging from the dark, smoked-filled corners of the world. Monsters from Eastern folklore ran amok across the already unstable region. Witch doctors and their occult circles, long striving for their mysticism to bear fruits, were reinvigorated by the demons crawling from within the mining shafts and darkened outbacks, and soon succeeded in summoning unholy, horned and multi-limbed beings that hid inside the ominous swamps and deserts, terrorizing the region.

The world, now in fear of what slumbered in the dark, changed.



Today, the wild west is very much alive, but… rogue. Saloons are sprawling with dubious patrons, some of which sport horns or extra eyes. Lesser Yokai and Other have made the American Frontier as well as the Mexican desert their home, while their monstrous brethrens come crawling out of the swamplands, terrorizing merchants and outlaws alike. Violence and death is everpresent, and so is the business that promises to protect from these threats, be it officially appointed or for-hire.

Many aspects of human development has been shaped by the supernatural, with technology, architecture, and, to an extent, culture itself, stagnating in various ways. Loud, stuttery vehicles, reminiscent of fictional steam societies, roam about just as frequently as mechanically-enhanced horses (and whatever unholy creatures could be tamed into mounts). Outlaws, lawbringers, and mercenaries alike have had the same weaponry at their disposal for the past three centuries: blades, guns, and weaponized magic. Scrap metal-fixed huts and lavish saloons are everywhere. The rich folk built mansions in the tuscany-like green outside the hustle and bustle of the cities.

Admittedly, many aspects have experienced change befitting of many hundreds of years, such as clothing, language, travel and society in general, but regardless, the world is stuck in a gun-slinging, occult-ridden loop of hell, and there seems nothing to rid our plane of it all. The world has been permeated by the mythical eastern spirits, and the subsequently unshackled apparitions of the west, and has stabilized itself into predictable patterns in only the last few decades.

 
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Overview
Genre(s):
● Western
● Supernatural
● JRPG
● Fantasy
● Steampunk


Group Size:[/hr]​
● 4-7


Setting:[/hr]​
● American Frontier
● Louisiana (Swampland)
● Wild West urban areas
● Outback


Influences:[/hr]​
● Red Dead Redemption
● Pulp
● Japanese folklore
● Borderlands
● Monster Hunter




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Charlatans and lunatics alike are taking coin to strike down beasts in these times. Hell, even the damn things strike their own kind down if the pay is right. I guess the humane ones are just as greedy as the rest of us... But this is the way life goes in the west, in the wild fuckin' west. The outlaws plunder, the saloons serve some stiff liquor, the horses are wild, and money runs the whole town. So what is a gunslinger or a swordsman to do? The saloon girls sing, the riders make a ruckus with their stinkin' stallions, the damn occultists probably some poor bastard behind boarded windows, and the hunters... hunt.

Yes, hunters, the one group left to live the American dream. Amidst the damn Yōkai and Other, and the gangs killin' each other, the sheriffs can't keep everything in check. And who wants the cavalry gallivanting in and out as they please, y'know? So the people hire hunters to stomp out the real' bad ones. I mean... They're not all bad. Some of the spirits run shops nowadays. And some are just mischievous little fuckers. And the Eastern ones especially got some real' nice wares, too. But there's two kinds of monsters... the ones who work with us, and the ones who... Well, they're not even exactly animals, but they sure are beasts. Crawlin' in the woods, soaked in darkness in the humid swamps, buried in the sand of the desert... they'll come out, and then... you're dead.

Unless you know how to fight, that is.

But the people get the creeps when too many hunters are in town, too. Too much competition. Too many killers kill too much, as they say. Or sumthing like that. And it's not exactly uncommon nowadays. Technology catching up. Mechanical horses and scrap metal bikes mean more hunters with more mobility. And the monsters... they can smell that shit brewing, too. More rampagin'. More killin'. These are dark times, I tell ya.

But for all the shit we're dealing with, it's still the place to be. The gold rush is still alive, even after hundreds of years. The rogues make it a sport to get their face on some wanted posters, and see who can get the highest bounty. And no other country can say they've been where it all starded, right here, in the wild, wondrous west!


BACKGROUND INFO
In 1589, the lowly tekiya Toshiuji came across a strange pot, given to him by a man with dark complexion, who spoke little and revealed even less. Despite Toshiuji’s suspicion, a gift was a gift, and the mystery surrounding the pot promised a good margin. However, even after a year, Toshiuji could not sell the pot. The distrust towards his kind aside, people feared the sheer presence of the pot, whose outside was adorned by a vacuous grin, its eyes squeezed and bulbous, and the pot’s gaze seemed to repel even the most daring of men. Toshiuji died as most tekiya did at the time; poor and forgotten. The pot changed ownership quite frequently after, until it eventually ended in the possession of the powerful daimyō Toyotomi Hideyoshi, who would soon see his power decline after its acquisition. One of his subordinates formed a small delegation. They were discreetly moved out of Japan, hidden from the public eye, and survived a journey across the world, setting foot onto the new world.

There, the delegation would bury the pot, deep into the red sand of what would eventually become the Mexican desert, hoping to bury its terrible powers with it. And while the Japanese delegation returned home, their acts would have disastrous effects on not just the now unified Japan, but the world at large. Just two years later, towards the end of the 17th century, the pot was found by a small gang of outlaws, who recklessly smashed it. Lavender haze emerged from the shattered remains, and swept across the land, endless and thick.

The unruly Americas would soon find themselves invaded by hordes emerging from the dark, smoked-filled corners of the world. Monsters from Eastern folklore ran amok across the already unstable region. Witch doctors and their occult circles, long striving for their mysticism to bear fruits, were reinvigorated by the demons crawling from within the mining shafts and darkened outbacks, and soon succeeded in summoning unholy, horned and multi-limbed beings that hid inside the ominous swamps and deserts, terrorizing the region.

The world, now in fear of what slumbered in the dark, changed.

Today, the wild west is very much alive, but… rogue. Saloons are sprawling with dubious patrons, some of which sport horns or extra eyes. Lesser Yokai and Other have made the American Frontier as well as the Mexican desert their home, while their monstrous brethren come crawling out of the swampland, terrorizing merchants and outlaws alike. Violence and death is ever present, and so is the business that promises to protect from these threats, be it officially appointed or for-hire.

Many aspects of human development has been shaped by the supernatural, with technology, architecture, and, to an extent, culture itself, stagnating in various ways. Loud, stuttery vehicles, reminiscent of fictional steam societies, roam about just as frequently as mechanically-enhanced horses (and whatever unholy creatures could be tamed into mounts). Outlaws, lawbringers, and mercenaries alike have had the same weaponry at their disposal for the past three centuries: blades, guns, and weaponized magic. Scrap metal-fixed huts and lavish saloons are everywhere. The rich folk built mansions in the Tuscany-like green outside the hustle and bustle of the cities.

Admittedly, many aspects have experienced change befitting of many hundreds of years, such as clothing, language, travel and society in general, but regardless, the world is stuck in a gun-slinging, occult-ridden loop of hell, and there seems nothing to rid our plane of it all. The world has been permeated by the mythical eastern spirits, and the subsequently unshackled apparitions of the west, and has stabilized itself into predictable patterns in only the last few decades.


TERMINOLOGY
Hunters:
People payed to dispose of brute monsters. With the emergence of otherworldly beings, people needed to defend against them, too. The Hunting business is lucrative but dangerous. Most commonly, Hunters are experts with either firearms or blunt or piercing weapons. Particularly, the Japanese katana varieties have become popular in dealing with Yōkai. Hunters often work in groups, but there are some daring (and often infamous) lone wolves.

Yōkai & Others:
Beings that have been unleashed upon the ominous haze plague in the 16th century. The general distinction is that Yōkai are the demons that have been brought over from the East, while Others are local entities, long thought to be nothing but the stuff of ghostly tales. Some example of Yōkai include murderous or thieving fox spirits and Oni demons, while some example of Others include the Wendigo or the Headless Riders.

To be expanded as needed.
 
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Gabriella Sierra


[Undead – ♀ – Formerly 25 – Mexican – Cultist]​

  • APPEARANCE:
    Gabriella, standing at a noticable 5'10", is a tall figure, and almost skeletal in appearance. Lithe limbs with arachnoid hands, a pale complexion, and a haggard physique lend the violent witch an immaterial, yes, almost ethereal quality. Her long silvery hair - a sad opposite to her once silky-black mane - cascades in stringy strands, melting into her desaturated scalp. Underneath her heavy rags, a plethora of intricate symbols and runes are carved and etched and tattood into her skin. Gabriella is most often clad in the common Gunpowder Witch attire, consisting of a flowing, long dark, stud-adorned dress, and a hat best described as a hybrid of wide-brimmed sheriff hats and the long, spiraling hats of classical witches.
  • Gabriella Sierra was just one of the many girls abducted by the Cult of the Gunpowder Witches during the gang wars two decades ago. A fearsome council of occultists and genuine witches, the Cult of the Gunpowder Witches does not practice the same magic as most other witches, but performs various rituals and other magicks all of which includes sacrifices involving firearms. The Gunpowder Witches have built themselves a reputation as a malevolent enforcement of order.
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[TABS][TABS][/tabs][/tabs]
[TABS][TABS]
[/tabs][/tabs]
[TABS][TABS][/tabs][/tabs]
[TABS][TABS][/tabs][/tabs][/div]
 
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The violence of the Fourth English Civil War thrusted the entirety of the United Kingdom into chaos; destroyed cities and damaged infrastructure framed the islands as life changed. Shrunken into cinder, England in particular became a hostile fusion of scrapped-together-settlements and Victorian, Gothic, and Renaissance-styled cities, stitched together by the last remnants of technological advancement and a yearning for times long gone. The government struggled to maintain any semblance of order in the aftermath of the war; nobody wanted to follow those who failed to protect the nation from disaster. In the unrest, the Sons of the North emerged from their corners, storming through the north-west of the country, and struck down the remaining elected officials, claiming rulership for themselves. What was once a small, cult-like community, exploded. The people were drawn in by their agenda; talks of rebuilt glory in this new world, and protection from the Breed. Of pride and strength. And under their rule, the kingdom was gone, and Albion was born anew. Cut-off from the world. Cut off from the past.

...

The ominous harbor town Brightport is shut down. The bridges have been barricaded, and the Sons of the North keep a watchful eye on the depths of the black water. Public places have thinned out in recent weeks; only in the early dawn does life return fully, when people hurry across the cobblestone squares to restock their pantries. The city is quiet. After the sun has set, workers are forced to melt into the darkness, hurrying through alleyways, illuminated by neon signs and their stuttering reflection glued to rain-wetted walls and streets. Distant murmurs seem to be laced into the city’s labyrinthine districts. The brightly lit windows of shops are the only thing that lures people out of their houses anymore. Everyone, even the dubious figures gambling the night away in unsanctioned casinos, know that the deep below is coming…


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    Brightport's history is shaped by its harbor; an ancient hamlet, that eventually grew into a smoke-addled pearl of industriousness. In the "Old World", Brightport remained behind the times, but maintained its in- and export throughout the decades. Never a place of invention, the cobblestone of the central marketplace, and the smudged oil stains that seem to cling to the factories as if etched into the facade, Brightport has - all things considered - retained its identity. It is a place of labor, of fish, of ships, of dockers, of boys with courier caps, and a wealth of shops that sell hand-baked goods. The remnants of the Old World lend neon light to those wandering the dark, and the shops' windows are proclaiming their names to the citizens in bright yellow and magenta. The streetlights consist in equal measures of flickering oil lamps and dim electric whites. Cars are rare, but horses are rarer, the polluted air and lack of healthy greenery around the area making keeping costly.

    Most notably, Brightport is connected to cities scattered across the island nation by means of an ancient tunnel system. The so-called Grotto is Brightport's lowest level, a cemented foundation atop of which the city has expanded over the decades of pre- and post-war times. The unfortunately dumb or brave (or both) souls that wander into the city's underground are suffocated by claustrophobic walls the height of houses. The walls lead deeper and deeper, until finally they give way into an old sewer system that leads into the depth of the earth, below the city. Though a few notable locations have access to the tunnels, be it by sewer system, ancient escape routes, or other means, few records of exploration exist. People heed the warnings not to wander, for the Grotto houses the Breed.

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    New Albion is the majority of Old World England. Though a bit of territory has been lost to the I.S.A., New Albion's size remains sufficient for its aspiration. Much of it has been destroyed during both the Fourth Civil War as well as the preceding era, which the Sons of the North refer to as Reign of Chaos - a time of civil unrest, mass-emigration, and global panic. Though exact details of the world across the sea are murky, New Albion has understood its place in a world that cannot be trusted any longer. As such, factories and farmland are some of the highest priorities within the nation.

    Socially, massive changes have occurred between the immediate end of the Fourth English Civil War and today. The post-war population eagerly ate up the widespread glorification of the past by various political and rebel groups - among them, the Sons of the North. Victorian England and its economic prosperity had become romanticized, and became a common goal to work towards in the unstable political sphere. As a result, strong emphasis has been placed on the traditional values of the time. Though not legally prohibited, men were strongly encouraged to pursue manual labor trades or those involving heavy machinery, while women were usually expected to work light factory positions or, preferably, stay at home and fulfill domestic tasks. Additionally, the Sons of the North have introduced labor initiatives, aiming to prevent any male citizen between the ages of 16 to 55 from experiencing times of unemployment. As a result of the Sons of the North's traditionalist views. same-sex marriage has been abolished to encourage those desiring to marry to produce children, so as to maintain the isolated society of New Albion. There are official incentives for parents, so as to further ensure this goal. Grounds for divorce are highly limited in order to "strengthen the family unit".

    Visually, most of New Albion's cities bear striking similarities to one another. Victorian and Gothic styles have been revived, with elaborate designs looming ominously, though Renaissance-architecture is a common style for more modest abodes, too. Especially the industrially-active cities usually house some rather unsightly factory complexes, with large chimneys. Fashion-wise, those not mingling in higher society tend to wear whatever is suitable for both the weather as well as modesty. Coats, vests, corsets, trousers, hats, and shirts are common, though overalls and other worker's attires are common too, especially for the male lower and middle class. A strong emphasis on conventional grace and morale has resurfaced, meaning that showing too much skin is considered a taboo, especially among women. Due to the remains of the Pre-R.o.C. times, more modern, urban clothing has been reused and emulated, and as such, the actual wardrobe of New Albion's citizens is quite varied and diverse. An exception are the noblemen and women, as well as those allied with or part of the Sons of the North.

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    The Sons of the North are members of a cabal who identify themselves by their ties to Gauls, Bretons, and Suiones, and they are currently ruling New Albion. Despite their name, the Sons of the North accept women into their ranks. However, the highest positions are reserved for the so-called Patriarchs of the “family”. Women may join as wives or daughters of a Son of the North, when widowed, or as a “distinguished ally of the cause, with considerable contributions of combative, political, societal, or scientific nature”. The latter honor is given out rarely.

    Beyond their gendered hierarchical restrictions, those with sufficiently verified ancestry from Gaul (especially Armorica or Germania) or among the “men from beyond north” - prehistoric Scandinavians - enjoy a special distinction as “true” Brothers or Sisters. The Sons of the North put great stock into status, gifting their higher ranks special arms to bear as a status symbol (although most weaponry is reserved for the men) as well as special codenames to those working as part of the Watchers - their population control and safety sector. Codenames are usually derived from constellations.


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Overview

Genre(s):
● Adventure
● Action
● Slice-of-life
● Comedy


Group Size:
● 3-6


Setting:
● Semi-tropical
● Semi-futuristic
● Mountainous
● Grasslands
● (it's Pokemon)


Influences:
● My Hero Academia
● Soul Eater


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Pendulum Academy - The world's premier destination for prodigies around the world. The finest young trainers from any region, aged 16-18, are tutored, nurtured, and ultimately shaped into elite trainers, ready to achieve anything. Many gym leaders, league contenders, top level coordinators, researchers and other experts in their field of choice are Pendulum alumni. Those attending P.A. are the finest of the finest
Pendulum Academy prepares students for a life of success in any field they desire - so long as the appropriate amount of effort goes into each course. Speaking of, a plethora of courses is available, ranging from Trainer courses (that appeal to aspiring Champions), to Coordinator courses that promise Contest stardom, to courses in scientific fields, which don't require students to be active trainers at all. As such, P.A. is host to a variety of ambitions, abilities, and personalities. One thing connects all of Pendulum's students, however... Undeniable talent.

Once a student is accepted to Pendulum Academy, they will be sorted into one of three houses: [Placeholder name 1], [Placeholder name 2], and [Placeholder name 3]. This not only fosters friendly rivalries and an essential sense of community, it is also an integral part of Pendulum's approach to testing aspiring Trainers' skill in battle. Students of P.A. are promising talents from across the world, often in possession of a well-balanced party of six Pokemon. However, students at P.A. compete under the so-called Delta Ruleset. The Delta Rule means that a trainer may only ever carry three Pokemon at any given time. Additionally, upon arrival, they must register their own, personal "Ace". This Pokemon is meant to represent students, and often becomes a sort of trademark Pokemon when P.A. graduates go on to take positions as gym leaders and such. Lastly, students at P.A. form "Squads". These groups consist of three trainers, each participating in a furious Triple Battle, in which each trainer has only one Pokemon - their star partner - at hand.

If the competition between houses doesn't quite still the thirst of Pendulum's more confrontational students, fret not! The school employs a great variety of type experts and highly-skilled guest faculty to provide students with the much needed guidance to make it through their studies. Not only that, but Pendulum's location in the center of the Ocas Region provides students with a plethora of exciting field trips and opportunities to gain real life experience!

Now then...

What was your name again?
 
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  • Thank You
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Overview

Genre(s):
● Adventure
● Elfpunk
● Exploration
● Urban Fantasy / Sci-Fantasy


Group Size:
● 4-5


Setting:
● Swamplands
● Jungle
● Outbacls
● Ruins & Caves
● Futuristic Cityscapes
● Scrapmetal Cities


Influences:
● Evolve
● Borderlands
Thalassa


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「CAUTION」

The Granflor Centre for M.E. Research advises all Gatekeepers to remain cautious when approaching Strange Space - unusual readings indicate foreign threats. We repeat: Gatekeepers MUST remain especially cautious at the current time.​

Ever since the nebulous Singularity, the Marza Equation has fueled our ascension into space, spearheading sapient conquest. And though many romantics like to view the current crisis through rose-tinted glasses, insisting on a new chance for the next big step, real life in the Frontiers is another story. If the ruthless wildlife and the blood-riddled greed of corrupt interspace conglomerates weren't enough to turn any Frontier into a lawless shithole, the emergence of the Gravebringers threatens to erase life as we know it today. Courtesy of the beasts, not just alien but utterly incompatible with any living species they encounter, colonies and metropolises alike have been flattened and harvested. Even mega-corportations like CELESTIAL seem unable to put a definitive stop to their rampage, merely denting the beasts' wrathful assault.

And that, youngblood, is the reason the Hunter Initiative has been created. Absurd to think that the very same companies that would take any opportunity to shoot down everyone else's supply ships, crew and cargo included, could ever come together, supplying the Gatekeepers with what they need.

Maybe the romantics are right... a chance for something new, huh?




  • Gatekeepers are the couragous and/or insane men and women that are tasked with the elimination of Gravebringers. Gatekeepers operate within a distinct framework that shapes their activties. A proper team of Gatekeepers consists of four core roles, as pioneered by Delta Squad.

    Vanguard; masters of dealing killing blows to trapped Gravebringers, Vanguards are essentially the damage dealer, Their approach is varied, but they all share unmatched lethality.

    Trapper; equipped with a Mobile Dome and a plethora of personalized equipment, Trapper make sure that the terrain becomes irrelevant, and any situation means that a Gravebringer finds itself backed into a corner.

    Medic; scientists and medical professionals, equipped with top-of-the-line gadgets and the means to save wounded teammates. Medics are a versatile role, as they not only patch up their massacred brethrens, but carry equipment that prevents such a thing from happening in the first place, often aiding their teammates with shield or other such helpful machinery.

    Banshee; the unfortunate live bait; though by no means necessary, Banshees are essential to the success of the greatest Gatekeepers out there, attracting Gravebringers with their alien genetics. Not all is grim, however, as Banshees possess a variety of Phasing abilities that off-set their vulnerabilities more often than not, at the cost of enduring ostracism among most people.

    Though structures are fluid, many people swear by this structure. Due to the irregularity of Banshees in general and the lack of qualified experts for all roles, many squads outside this norm exist. Additionally, many established Gatekeepers hire additional muscle. As such, the Delta Squad blueprint is but an ideal.
  • TBA
  • TBA
 
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  • Nice Execution!
Reactions: Epiphany