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 Posted: Wed Sep 17, 2008 7:51 am
A V for Vendetta based RP.
Name:
Appearance:
Allegiance: (Government, Civilian, Resistance groups, etc.)
Weapons/Skills Specialties:
Abilities: (Please no magic/magik or such silliness)
Gender:
Occupation:
Biography: (Please include all the details such as a where you came from, what happened so that you became involved, unless you are at current somewhat of a civilian and plan to later become involved during the story)
Location, Situation, Basic Story Background:
*Note, seeing as it seems most of us have seen the movie and not read to book, this will be more based of the V for Vendetta movie.
In the year of 2038, the United Kingdom had been taken over by the Norsefire party. 20 years previous, the world had begun to fall apart, especially due to the United States ‘War on Terror’ having spiralled out of control. People rarely talked of any other place outside of Britain, but most of the outside world is an implied chaos.
When Norsefire took control, they saved Britain form the crises by forcing them to embrace their fascist government. But now, for the past decade, the immediate dangers have subsided. Regardless, Norsefire has maintained a totalitarian government. They use their state-controlled media, the BTN, as a propaganda tool to support the government.
Norsefire also kept it’s citizens in fear. It punished all ‘Social deviant’; Homosexuals, criminals, and all those that didn’t fit the government’s bill. They were sent to Larkhill Detention Centre. The majority of the patients died.
But then came a man, both villain towards and victim of this government. He destroys the Old Bailey and takes over the BTN, and threatens to destroy Parliament. He, along with another woman, succeeded in both destroying Parliament and convincing the people to rebel against the government. He also killed five major people in the government, and those who did him and others wrong. They fell Norsefire and hoped to free the country.
For a while, it seemed so. Due to their leaders falling, the military was unsure of how to stop the protestors, and allowed them to proceed. But it is not as such anymore. Now, there is a new leader, and a newer Norsefire. The new party calls themselves the Arran , lead by Demarco Braddock. The strictness of Norsefire was child’s play compared to the power and harshness of Arran. Many people who had joined in the protest would disappear, along with anyone who dare speak ill of the government.
And now, in the world’s most dire times, it is the year of 2048, nearly 10 years since the V revolution, the people all remember, but none dare say the words. None dare stand up for fear of death, or even worse. In the time when most needed, dare you remember?
(Now get your asses back from school and just do it!)
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Posted: Wed Sep 17, 2008 7:52 am
Characters: *Note, if your appearance changes at all, let me know and I'll update it. Name: Rachel Martin Appearance:  Allegiance: Resistance Weapons/Skills Specialties: Pistols and knives Abilities: High pain tolerance, fairly agile, immunity to most drugs and poisons Gender: Female Occupation: Prisoner, Test Subject Biography: Born in Bradford, England, Rachel was always aware of what had been happening in the world around hers. When she was 15 in 2038, the so-called terrorist 'V' had begun his tale. She became entranced with his cause, and on the 5th on November, 2039, she rallied with others in protest. Several months later in the start of 2040, when Arran came into power, she was arrested for treason. She was sent to a prison camp in the countryside, a destination she guessed was around Kingston, but more eastern, near the shore. All she knew was the name on the walls outside from when she arrived: Stirlingshire Prison Camp, although she knew they were no where near Stirling; It wasn't cold enough. And it is here she has remained until now, year 2048, for 8 years in the camp. She has seen many bodies come, and many go, but rarely ever a soul in one of them. At times, she wished to die, and others, she wished death upon the others. She felt heartless, but not hopeless. And here she lies, day after day, a subject to the cruel torment of the harsh medical testing facilities of . She is cold and emotionless, left scarred by her experiences. Yet she held her hopes high, and thinks everyday of the story of V, the saviour of England in her eyes. ~~~~~ Name: James Ingram Appearance:  Allegiance: Arran, although seeking defection Weapons/Skills Specialties: Walther P99, H&K MP5 Abilities: Some experience in mixed-martial arts, semi-fluent in Spanish, German, and Russian Gender: Male Occupation: Secret Police Sergeant Biography: Born in Hamburg Germany but raised in Liverpool, England by SAS Leftenant Joseph Ingram and Barbara Meyers, James was a 22 year-old First Sergeant of the SAS at the time of Norsefire's uprising. Unknowing of Norsefire's sinister agenda, he joined the ranks of their Secret Police. In those times, he became more and more disgusted with the cruelties and inhumanities the group he was assosciated with openly committed. However, he was unable to leave under fear of torture, incarceration, and slow, painful execution. When V's insurrection succeeded and the evil Norsefire government disbanded, James went into hiding, fearing for his life both from justifiably angry mobs looking for Secret Police blood and from some of the still loyal members of the Secret Police looking to pull together as many other members as possible. Those members eventually banded together to create Arran. Eventually, he was found. In order to save himself from imprisonment in the death camps, he quickly rejoined the ranks of the Secret Police and was made a sergeant. Secretly, however, he still wants to leave and join the resistance. Unfortunately, that move would be too noticeable and he knows that the Secret Police would wait for him to meet with the resistance before striking them all down at once. That is to say, if the resistance members even believed that he'd want to defect. So now, the only way he can help without being killed was to 'see nothing, hear nothing, and know nothing' about resistance movement. ~~~~~ Name: Rick Harris Appearance:  Allegiance: None yet, but joins the resistance later. Weapons/Skills Specialties: Daggers and revolvers Abilities: Really good fist fighter.....well built.....fast..... Gender: Male Occupation: Street Fighter Biography: (will become later involved) ~~~~~ Name: Hauman Lum Appearance:  Allegiance: Resistance Weapons/Skills Specialties: MK.23 SOCOM with an underslung laser sight, FAMAS assault rifle. First-Aid medical treatment. Abilities: Able to make instant pot-shots. Decent sneaking and stealth. Extremely strong will power, as the only hting holding him together is the strength of his will. Gender: Dude Occupation: Operative/Scout for the resistance. They send him in to infiltrate a place, and he comes back with intel. Biography: Hauman was born in Canada, then moved to England after the collapse of the American economy which led to depression and finally, war. After Canada was in bad shape, Hauman and his family got on a plane and stole away to England. Once there, however, things weren't looking up either. Hauman was eight years old when the Old Bailey was destroyed and turned nine when Parliament was demolished. He's now twenty-nine years old and was first brought into the resistance when his parents fought back against the new dictator government. His parents were taken away by dark, black bags as Hauman fled from the house, where he lived on the street, hiding from policemen after curfew. He grew up on the street and it paid off for him. He's capable of surviving on barely anything and maintaining both a good mind and a good body. He also learned to sneak around, and stay out of sight, which is where his stealth came in. Basically, ever since he was ten, he basically trained for when he had to put the chips down. Unfortunately, he also has a weakness; he doesn't have anyone to really communicate with, since he pretty much lost everyone multiple times. One account was when he was shot and injured and shot again and again, whilst his friend was tortured and forced to commit suicide in front of his own friend. He left communication with everything and lived as a recluse in the outskirts of Alaska after he had killed his father, who had betrayed Hauman and joined the fascists. After killing his own father with a make shift blowtorch, he came to terms that he had committed patricide, then left and lived in Alaska. With the amount of emotional and physical endurements, any other person would be dead already. The only thing holding Hauman together is the strength of his will. On the flip side, he also operates on instinct, and will do what it takes to save a friend, or warbuddy. He's a sad and lonely man. ~~~~~ Name: Samuel Richardson Isenghower Appearance:  Allegiance: Civilian Weapons/Skills Specialties: Pistol, submachine guns, and has medical skills ranging from minor rashes to major operations (such as open heart surgery) Abilities: mostly medical abilities and some herb and plant notification Gender: male Occupation: Doctor (moves about from city to city) Biography: Samuel hailed from the country side of Great Britain. When he began school at the age of 5, his family moved from their cottage to London, England. He was raised from there until he went to college in hopes in getting himself a degree in medication and surgery. After the many years and constant studies he got his degree and began to work right away. While going through with college, the Norsefire had lost their power and had failed in defeating V. Soon after Arran had taken over. While Arran had taken over, his younger brother, the last of his family and an a enrolled soldier, died mysteriously in a car accident. the strange thing about it was he was not in the car and was far from the road. Samuel, being the only family member, received his dog tags. He still to this day wonders what happened.
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Posted: Wed Sep 17, 2008 9:57 am
((Hopefully this will kick all asses into gear))
Unaware of the day, unsure of the month, and hoping she was wrong of the year, Rachel Martin calculated that she had been there around 8 or 9 years. She had been arrested for treason in 2040, just a few days after New Years. It was now, she figured, about 2048. 10 years, she thought. 10 years since he started the rebellion, since she was first inspired, since she had gained the courage to stand up for herself, for her country, and for the people. Norsefire had fell, and they all thought things would change, they would help the rest of Europe all regain itself. But they were wrong. Arran came into power, and Demarco Braddock ordered that all of the protesters be taken away on charge of treason. Things became what they were only a few months before.
How would he feel, she thought, to see his work, his life's commitment, his gift to the world, bring nothing but a few months of anarchy, and then an even worse Britain than Adam Susan had brought them. It was like a Third Reich gone to an even more extreme. They made Hitler and Susan look like schoolyard children. And there was no one to stop stop them.
And here she lay, on the cold concrete cell of Stirlingshire Prison Camp, just outside of Kingston, but far enough into the country where no one would guess. Then again, no one dare oppose the government. They could have placed it in plain sight, and none would speak, dare they end up on the others side of these walls.
She felt her ribs scrape against the floors as she rolled over onto her back. She grunted slightly in pain at the bruises than covered her body, the pain that never left. She knew the doctors would come soon, but these were no benevolent doctors, coming to save her; They came with needles and medications, and they were to be tested upon her and the others. She had been here so long, she was fairly sure she was one of the longest to survive. Bodies came and went like day and night, except much faster. They were soulless beings, no hope, no anger, just filled to the brim with defeat. They angered her to see them like this, beaten and defeated. Every time she saw one of them, be it their feet through the door cracks, if they were taken to the examinations rooms or for testing, she vowed once more to escape and do as he did; to bring the revolution about once more, so that he did not die in vain.
A moan cracked through the air. "No! No! No more! Not again! No!!" Came the horrid screams of a man, she figured in the next cell. He continued his crying, and she heard his feeble struggling and he scraped and hit against the walls. She heard the crack of a club hitting his head, and his skull cracking off the floor or wall.
"Nice job, you dumb brute, you've killed him" She heard one of the doctor's voices complain.
"It's not like there aren't more" He replied in a gruff voice.
"Maybe so, but this isn't about quantity of patients; We need them to survive and see how long they can, or if they do. It's a time-trial. Make sure it doesn't happen again. And get him out of here quickly, we've got a new shipment coming today anyways" The doctor replied to him as the heavy metal door banged shut. She heard his footsteps come down the line to her door. He banged the door heavily and he opened it and it hit the wall, leaving a small dent in the concrete. He was clearly angered by his loss of an experiment.
She attempted to sit up against the wall as he rushed towards her and pulled out a needle.
"Sit still" He ordered as he punched the needle into her emaciated shoulder and injected it carelessly. He left momentarily and came back with a small needle and came back with several vials. He strapped a rubber band around her thin bicep and searched momentarily for the vein. More calmed now, he carefully inserted the needle and attached one of the vials. He looked down at her arm while it filled, and she watched it for a moment. She looked up at his face, studying it for a second. He looked up, and then, after catching her eye, immediately looked back down, as if embarrassed. After filling all the small vials, he took out the needle and put a cap on it. He untied the band and stood up.
"Yeah, I don't think I could look me in the eyes either" She called to him as he exited, causing his to slam the door again. She gave a slight laugh at him, a thing she hadn't felt in a while.
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Posted: Wed Sep 17, 2008 12:11 pm
He never expected there to ever be something that one could call a Fourth Reich. He also never expected that it'd be in Jolly Ol' England of all places. He also never expected that he be a member of it, although forcibly by threat of death. Still, it didn't make it any less real or any less disgusting.
James Ingram, Sergeant of the Guard for the day, held his H&K MP5 sub-machine gun loosely on the hilt as it hung from his arm on its sling whilst patrolling the dismal labryinth that was Prison Block B. In all of the prison blocks here in Stirlingshire, an oxymoron of a name for such a place in his opinion, teams of doctors went around their daily routine of torturing and subsequently drugging their 'patients'.
He saw one such doctor slam the door of a cell and march away from it in a huff as the ragged laughter of a possibly deranged patient rang out from it. He glared at the doctor in disgust.
Even though he was a member of Arran, that didn't mean he was with them by his own will. They had threatened him to a life in the prison camps, much like the ones he was guarding. He long dreamed of joining the resistance movement, but knew it was only a dream; he'd be killed before he even got a chance to meet them, or worse, and more probably, they'd wait until they met them before swooping in and slaughtering them all. And there went the resistance.
Still, that didn't mean he didn't keep his humanity, unlike the others in this God forsaken camp, prisoners and staff alike. A half-German who looked English, he made it a habit to secretly speak to himself in German when no one is looking, the most rebellion he can achieve without having a slug put in his head. Even that was dangerous, however.
He looked around and was satisfied that the coast was clear. There were no cameras, as the Arran government, so full of themselves as the Nazis were, believed that no one could escape an Arran prison camp. So far, though, that held true.
He walked up cautiously to the prison cell the doctor had left. He whispered into the cell. "Great work on pissing off Doctor Paulsy." He then slipped a small piece of bread that he had snuck out of the mess hall.
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Posted: Wed Sep 17, 2008 12:38 pm
Hearing the words, she suddenly felt very aware. She felt like she could hearing it as it moved and hit the floor towards her. She eyed it for a moment. It looked fairly clean, and fresh to boot. She grabbed it and munched it hungrily.
"So, how many drugs you got slipped in there" She whispered back, assuming he was still there. "Besides, there's not much else they can do to me. I'm already dead" She told him. "I just consider every moment of life another rebellious act. Of course, it's one more I'll forever be punished for as long as I'm here. Though I'm not expecting that to be long"
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Posted: Wed Sep 17, 2008 1:14 pm
"None, Fraulein," he whispered back in response to the first question. "And I want to leave here as much as you."
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Posted: Wed Sep 17, 2008 1:24 pm
"So you are German then?" She asked him. "And if anything, you have as much a chance as I do"
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Posted: Wed Sep 17, 2008 2:14 pm
"On my mother's side, Frauleine, or I'd be locked up in the cell next to you." James looked at the cell next to her's. "Poor chap. He got here just yesterday."
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Posted: Wed Sep 17, 2008 7:19 pm
"Little short, but then again, they don't usually last much longer. Poor bastards get an easy way out. Unfortunately, regardless of whether or not they die, there will always be more." She said, giving a slight sigh. "I'm rather quite surprised they haven't stuck two or three of us to a cell yet"
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Posted: Wed Sep 17, 2008 8:28 pm
"You haven't seen Cell Block A or C," he muttered. "It's part of one of their sick experiments, see how well the prisoners, I'm sorry, 'patients' behave when place three to a cell. They're using B and C as a control group." He said that last part as if it was venomous. "It's sick." He looked around. "Hey, I've got to be back on patrol, Fraulein, before Herr Commandant Edison suspects something, but I'll be back soon, with more bread if I can. Auf weidhersein." With that, he scurried off down the hall.
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Posted: Wed Sep 17, 2008 9:19 pm
"Alright then" She mumbled to herself as she heard his footsteps go off down the hall. She leaned back against the wall. Her eyes felt swollen and sore, and it hurt to keep them open, yet hurt to shut them as well. She looked down at her shoulder and her arm. The spot where the doctor had taken the blood was bleeding, with a trail of blood threading its way down her arm and dangling off he fingertips.
She stared for a moment, transfixed at the sight, and amazed that she had enough flowing through her veins to even bleed. She was suddenly aware of the danger of infection, especially in these conditions. Regardless, if she was infected, she'd probably be shipped off to another cell block to test antibiotics.
Normally, she wouldn't care much for an infection. Of course, nothing was normal anymore. None of this Hell. Like the instinct of an animal, she licked the spot of the needle to help clean and stop the bleeding. Exhausted, she sank back once more against the wall and attempted sleep.
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Posted: Thu Sep 18, 2008 7:51 am
An hour passed before the next round of doctors came through, this time just to make sure who made it through the medication. As prisoners had a notorious history of retaliating at their captors during this check-up, mostly because the doctor would be alone rather than accompanied by an orderly, an armed guard would have to follow the doctor to make sure the doctor was safe.
Today, it was James Ingram's duty to be bodyguard to the horrible doctor. After cleaning through Cell Block A, he followed Dr. Lenns into Cell Block B. They went from cell to cell, finding about 4 dead prisoners. It wasn't long until they reached the cell of the girl he had seen before.
"Martin, Rachel; Age 25. Subject #112098," Dr. Lenns said to himself, reading off of the chart he held in his hand. He opened the cell door and James held his MP5 at the ready to reassure the doctor.
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Posted: Thu Sep 18, 2008 12:38 pm
Rachel heard the metallic clang of the door opening and her name and number being called and struggled to open her eyes. She glanced down at her arm. The trail of blood had found it's way down her arm once more while she had slept, and she had a crimson streak down it. She sat up straight and looked at the doctor as he entered. The light felt intensely painful on her eyes, as they rarely ever saw light. She squinted into it, trying to see which doctor it was.
The guard held his weapon as if ready to shoot. She was unsure if this was the man she had talked to earlier, but doubted it. Even if it was, she doubted he would betray a doctor or anyone with the Arran, especially for a patient. She tensed her muscles as they approached.
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Posted: Thu Sep 18, 2008 1:20 pm
Dr. Lenns leaned down to inspect her arm. "Hmm... Looks infected." He turned to James. "Sergeant, escort #110298 to Cell Block D for antibiotics testing. I hear a new type of serum just came down from the chaps up at Central."
James nodded. "Yes sir," he replied before urging her up with his gun. "Come on, let's go, on your feet."
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Posted: Thu Sep 18, 2008 2:14 pm
Rachel put her hands on the ground and pushed herself up, putting one hand on the wall to regain balance. Just what I needed, she thought to herself. She moved slowly towards the open door with unstable steps. She was suddenly aware of just how baggy the filthy clothes she wore had become due to her massive loss of weight over her time here.
"Where to?" She asked.
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