EDIT:Due to the lack of activity for this thread, it will be removed at the end of the week on Saturday if nothing happens.

Edit: A few things you might want to know before you start off in the thread.

I usually require a skeleton, but I have decided that a bio is not needed for this one.
In a world like this one, information like that isn't likely to get you very far, especially if handed out. If you want to start it out as if your character has a police record or something of the sort, then by all means, go ahead. However, this is not needed.

Like in every roleplay that is fun, there is no godmoding, and more importantly, no psychic people who predict what's going to happen unless their character is meant to be that way. Just because a person is thinking something, doesn't mean that every other character is aware.

This Roleplay takes place in a world where anything could happen! (Ironic title, I know)) Your character can have a mutation or an inherit power, or not be human at all. After all, this story isn't set in stone. Do as you will! Just abide by the above rule.

No Half-a** posts Nuff said.

If you see anything wrong with these simple rules, or if you think something should be added, just send me a pm.

((Decided to take Acheron's advice and start a new thread. Hopefully this one will get some hits.))

The time... Well, no one really cares much about time anymore these days, do they? Moon up, moon down. That's how everyone does it anymore. Who keeps track of such an inconsequential bit of information like time, anyways? But back to my point...

To those of us who do, the time is somewhere after the resignation of the major corporations and the industrialist war. People dying so big business could have their way with the world, and rake in all that useless paper they used to call currency. Dollars, pesos, euros, and rubles. Nickles, dimes, marks, and all that other junk that the human race used to squabble for so they could have some sort of fake happiness. All gone now. I'm sure whoever reads this will toss it aside as they do all books, but hell! Why not tell my story... No, OUR story.

This is life in the slums of New Hope, the capital of this rat hole we call a world. That's right. No capital of a nation. Capital of the world, because not much is left of this anarchical mess. A young man flicks away his cigarette, disgusted by the addictive death stick. Of course, in this day and age, flicking away a cigg was like tossing some alcohol in the drain. People died that way. He picked it back up, and set it aside, sure some desperate nicotine addict would find it this way. He checked his phone, which really only functioned as a watch and a calender. It let him know when the psychos woke up and took over the street. The moment the sun went down, around 9 pm, they would make their ways out of their run down apartments, looking for a throat to slit so they could get some more beer or vodka. The man sighed.

"Well, Malakai, old buddy, seems you have about ten minutes to get out of here before the dogs are loosed," he said to himself. He started walking down the street, running his finger along the muzzle of his .347 magnum that he had snatched from the corpse of a less fortunate. It had five rounds in it when he found it. It now had three. Two people he'd killed so far. Of course, not many tried to attack him anyways. He stood at nearly 6' 1" and had a thin, but toned build. Life in this apocalyptic city made him that way. He closed his eyes, the green eyes shimmering, but empty. He had gained himself something of a reputation sense he had killed the last two, and because people already knew his history. He shook his head. Not the time to think about that... he thought, as he looked left and right, his shoulder length red hair moving with him.