Game Masters: Ryex Accepting New Characters: Yes Posting Expectations: Be able to post once every week or two Rating: PG13 (hopefully, but I'm not going to get upset if it becomes partially R) Genre: Galactic Quest Atmosphere/Mood: Serious, Dramatic Timeline: Far Future Basic Plot: It is the year 3780NE and humanity has spread out across the cosmoses, taking a shuttle to another planet in the solar system is the equivalent of taking a bus across town in today’s world. And traveling to another solar system would be like taking a plane ride across the country. Multiple solar systems have been organized in to vast galactic governments. Technologies like food synthesizers have been created and discarded for better. But humanity has not changed… Wars, competitions of power and petty hate still exist. People preach about how far humanity has come, discarding prejudges and living in harmony with all races and religions. But these things have not gone; people have simply found new targets. Around the year 3600NE a new unexplained mutation started appearing in the general population, at first it seemed to have no prominent effect and the people who had it went and lived normal lives. It did not stay that way though. About three generations in the mutation passed from parent to child grew more powerful the doctors watch it closely and at first nothing seemed to change but around 16 to 17 years old these children started to manifest strange supernatural powers. They could change the world around them; mold it like clay with their will. Anything they believed to exist DID exist until they lost concentration or forgot about it, there reverse was true too anything they believed did Not exist simply vanished until they forgot or lost concentration. The first public incident occurred a school bully punched a kid with the mutation in the face, sitting on the ground crying the kid had the brilliant idea to imagine to world without the bully, who promptly vanished from existence right in front of everyone watching. After this the world erupted into turmoil, religious institutions latched on to the children as either prophets of their deity or daemons from the depths of their hell/s. And those of the scientific persuasion view it as an inevitable mutation of the human genome, one that was a grave threat to their daily life not many people could rest soundly when there realized that they could be erased from existence by the thoughts of another human. At first governments tried to keep it under control by isolating the children form society keeping them locked away in nice comfy buildings with plenty of entertainment and teaching available to them, Prisoners in all but name. But the children grew and after a few years of peace the young adults, realizing the oppression they were under, wanted no more. Walls mean nothing when their occupants can simply imagine them gone; possible to walk through; or in cases of the more violently inclined or those with minds that didn’t grasp the full existent of their powers, explosives or other weapons to remove them. The world began to call these mutants who mold reality like clay Artists, and for years they have roamed the galaxy revolting against governments and discovering the limits of their powers and the curses that come with them. As the Artists used their powers many of them started to go insane. Voices in their heads became imaginary friends that quickly became not so imaginary because the Artist in question believed them to exist, and from there escalating to general madness. It progress at different speeds for everyone, an Artist in their fifties could be anywhere form slightly insane to stark raving mad. But their end was certain. Those who went completely mad often ended up killing themselves with creations from their own nightmares. But despite the perils many survived and persevered over the 70 odd years from the manifestation of the first Artist’s powers. They still search for a home, one where they can be accepted the live out their lives in relative peace. Rumor speaks of such a place, of solar system isolated near the edge of the galaxy, place where they can be free from the oppression of galactic governments. Prologue Jack Yamal lay on him belly peering over the edge of the four-story building into the ally below. The night was dark on this planet with no moon to speak of but light leaked in from the street giving him enough to see by. It was empty. And as far as he could tell it wasn’t being watched either. He started to lower himself over the edge when he spotted two figures in black trench coats entering from the street. “Dam,” he whispered to himself “I thought I’d lost them three streets back.” Very slowly, Jack pulled himself back over the edge of the building, so as not to make any noise. He failed. the leg of his pants caught on the metal edge of the building and ripped slightly the sound echoing loudly in the quite ally way below. The two figures looked up and quickly spotted him on the edge of the roof as exposed as he was. Cursing Jack freed his pant leg with a quick jerk and sprang to his feet. Below, the two figures has produced small hand guns, the things were type that were made from plastic and fired ceramic beads as projectiles. They were the preferred weapon of assassins as they were easy to get through security and they were light and surprisingly accurate for their short barrel. Jack rolled to the side as a ceramic bead wised past his ear, he had heard no gunshots, he wouldn’t have, the guns were probably silenced quite effectively. “I guess I’m going over the ally,” Jack thought. Not a simple task for a normal human, the gap was at least twenty feet and the other building was about ten feet higher. But then Jack was not exactly a normal human, he was what was known as an Artist. Not the drawing and painting kind, mind you. Jack’s Artistry was of a supernatural origin. By tricking his mind into believing that something was real, reality shaped itself to his will and it became real. The reverse could also be true; if he wanted something to not exist all he had to do was believe that it wasn’t there. Jack quickly thought himself up a wooden ramp to span the gap. And the ramp was there. No fade in or flickering as there might have been with other Artists. That was his specialty; every Artist had an area of Artistry they were really good at. His was the creation of objects. Jack took the ramp at a run, crossing the space in two leaps and he kept running across the roof of the next building. The ramp vanished just as soon as he feet left it for the roof. Reaching the edge of the next ally way Jack stopped. This one was clear but his pursuers were still on his tail, they would be on top of the building in a few second. Jack took a moment to prepare himself, and jumped. Not a moment too soon for just as he crested his jump he felt a ceramic bead brush the hair on the top his head. Within seconds he had doped below the roof of the building blocking the line of fire. All he had to do now was survive the five story fall. Concentrating, jack used his powers again. In the same way that he had made the ramp between the buildings Jack fix in his mind the air below him being thicker, like water, but without the surface tension. About ten feet from the ground Jack hit the column of dense air he had created and his decent slowed to a manageable velocity. Once inside the dense air Jack made it just a bit thicker just to slow him a bit more. When his feet were three feet from the ground Jack released the image if the dense air from his mind and almost instantly reality went back to normal. Jack dropped to the ground a hit it at a run, dodging through the lightly crowed street ignoring the shocked night life that until a few seconds ago had been going about their shopping. “Artist!” shouted one of the pedestrians who had overcome their shock. Jack ignored it. He would have to worry about the local law enforcement once he had escaped these black coated hunters. out of the corner of his eye Jack saw five of the men in black trench coats sprint out of a small side street and start chasing him down the street. The tell tail clack of a ceramic bead hitting a light post he was passing told him there were firing at him. “These pedestrians are in danger here” the thought floated across Jacks mind, without really thinking about it Jack acted on it the entire population that was on the street disappeared. Temporarily wiped from existence until he either, brought them back, forgot about them, or lost consciousness. He would of done the same to the men chasing him long ago but his one attempt had failed, they were probably all wearing a AATFL (Anti Artistry Temporal Field Lock). Just like himself and other Artists, they were immune to the direct effects of artistry. Jack kept running, dodging around parked vehicles, trash bins and lamp posts. More and more the trench coated men emptying onto the street from the alleyways and side streets he passed. There were about a hundred of them were behind him now. “Maybe it’s worth a shot now,” Jack said to himself. Skipping to a stop Jack turned around a picked a parked vehicle place conveniently between him and the chasing mod of black trench coated men. “bang” he said as he raised his hand palm out towards the mass of men. Neither the word nor the motions were strictly necessary but they did help trick his mind into doing what he wanted. The vehicle lifted off the ground and with a thunders clap launched itself at the men, breaking the sound barrier in the process. The resulting scene was like a game of human bowling. But his improvised missile only took out about a third of the chasing force, the rest just kept on running towards him ignoring their fallen comrades. Cursing Jack spun on his toes and set off at a run again. There was an ally ahead perhaps he could lose some of them by taking to the roof tops again. Grabbing the corner of the building Jack flung himself into the ally at his top speed. He rounded the corner, thunk, there was a sharp pain in his chest as Jack stumbled backward out into the street away from the trench coated man who had been waiting in the ally way. He stumbled and fell back landing on his behind with a large jolt of pain as the knife protruding from his chest moved. The men who had been chasing him in the street vanished in mid step. “Why?” Jack asked in a horse voice of the trench coated figure in front of him as he spat up blood from his now punctured lungs. “Why were you chasing me?” “Why?” the figure crackled pulling back the hood of his coat, Jack didn’t recognize the face, it was devoid of any indentifying feature it was just a generic face like one a company could create for it’s new line of androids. “You know why Jack, You always knew.” “No I don’t, just tell me, grant me a dying wish. Tell me why!” the shout echoed in the night fallow shortly by a fit of coughing up blood. The figure bent low over Jack’s head to wispier into his ear. “Your insanity Jack, we’re you paranoia manifest.” With those words the trench coated man’s form began to grow misty, fading from existence. “you not real?” The words escaped Jack’s mouth in the middle of a cough “you’re an Artist creation, who created you? For what purpose?” “Why, you know that too jack,” the figure was even mistier now, the feet were gone entirely. “You created us Jack.” “Impossible” all that now remained the trench coated figure was the generic face, and that too was fading from existence. “Your insane Jack.” The face was only mist now only the eyes remained solid. “But…” that was when Jack saw it. Every Artist had the ability to distinguish between Artist made and real objects; it was a skill that manifests itself as the Artist grew. And it grew stronger with age. A particularly skilled Artist would see something that looked like knotted string at the center of an object that was made by an Artist, and a creation that was being actively maintained would have an length of string trailing off in the direction of the Artist connecting them to their creation. At that moment Jack became aware of such a string going from a ball of loosely knotted sting in the center of the figures forehead trailing into Jack’s chest, the same with the knife in his chest. “No” the sound escaped his mouth at a whisper. “Goodbye Jack. Enjoy the afterlife, if there is one that is.” With that what remained of the face vanished into thin air. The void engulfed Jack’s mind. as he lost consciousness from loss of blood the knife vanished from his chest and the missing population popped back into existence to find a man laying on the street 500 yards from where they saw him what seemed like a split second ago, with a stab wound in his chest. Extra Info / Author's comments Rules General RP rules with a few exceptions no more than 4 characters at least one of those characters should be an Artist as previously said Artists slowly go insane from use of their powers if your Artist is over 30 they should be showing signs of insanity, over 60 and their probably a lunatic. the speed at which one goes insane is not the same fore every one however, if they are a stronger than normal Artist they wont go insane as fast as others. the reverse is true too if they are weaker that the normal Artist they will go insane faster. there is a point of no return on both sided though, if an Artist is REALLY weak, like they can't effect something more than a few inches away and even then not very much, then they will go insane very slowly. if is An Artist is extremely strong, like they can effect things on a plaint's surface while they are in orbit, they will go insane extremely fast. also if an Artist dose not use their powers the process is slowed but not halted the strength of a average artist is like so. they can do pretty much what ever they want inside a quarter mile radius, as long as they have the mental capacity to maintain concentration on everything they are doing and make them selves believe that what they are doing is real, (the belief part is only a real problem for young inexperienced Artists) anything an artist is doing subconsciously. ie. they are not aware they are doing it, like a result of insanity. is NOT effected by the Artist's limits. an artist's powers can not directly effect themselves, other artists or any one/thing inside a AATFL. by that I mean they cannot make the person or object vanish from existence/alter the object/grant superpowers ect. An Artist can't alter space or time. ie no instant transport or going backwards in/forwards in/stop or pause time dew to the powers of an Artist asking for no god-modding seems a bit unfair, as such god-modding is allowed providing that the act is withing the Artist strength to do, and the artist had the cogitative power to do it at the time. there is a thing known as going critically insane, this is when an Artist's insanity takes over and the artist ends up killing them self by manifesting their nightmares. this is what happened to Jack in the prologue an Artist might be able to bypass their normal limits with unconscious thought but that doesn't include manipulating themselves, other Artists, or objects within an AATFL. they can manipulate the appearers of Non-Artists though as long as they aren't wearing an AATFL. but for themselves, sorry no shape shifting, at least not through Artistry technology is still open. Bio Template Character Name: Gender: Artist?: Is your character an Artist Artistry Specialty: Most Artists have a specialty, a type of manifestation that they are really good at and can exceed their normal limits in, take Jack from the prologue for example, he was good at manifesting normal objects. your specialty might be making things vanish from existence or it might be modifying existing objects to your will ect. most Artists have a specialty you don't have to have one, but just because you have a specialty doesn't mean that you can't do other things an Artist can still do anything they believe to be real, thats the trick, they have to convince them selves that its real. or not real if they want to remove something from existence. however. if you wish to play it as your character doesn't understand the full nature of his or her powers an so they only know their specialty thats fine. just expect it to be pointed out to your character at some point or another that they can do anything. Age: General Appearance: General Personality: General History: IC Thread Also If you have ANY questions or uncertainties about the nature of an Artist's powers or what would happen in specific situations PLEASE PLEASE ask them.