Status

Recent Statuses

7 mos ago
Current Like Sci-fi? Like the Wild West? Firefly: Second Verse's lookin' for a Pilot, Companion, First Mate, and Mechanic: roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
1 yr ago
The crew is booking up for this class three Firefly. Get in while the git’n’s good!
1 yr ago
Our Firefly game is finally up! Come gander over yonder: roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
1 yr ago
Just put out an interest checker for a new Firefly game here: roleplayerguild.com/topics/… Drop by if you're curious!
1 yr ago
Enjoying reading what you all have written before I dive in!
1 like

Bio

Linux makes me happy, Blender helps me art, and Fedora solved a lot of my problems.


I'm here because I like to RP in depth with high quality writing. Now, don't mistake me for high quality; I'm just hoping it rubs off.

Sharing cohost/GM duties with Sail3695 of "Firefly - Second 'Verse." Advanced game here: roleplayerguild.com/topics/186036-fir…

Pretty much all my posts are collaborations posted by others on our game!


I put some art works in progress here: roleplayerguild.com/topics/185966-art…


Most Recent Posts

Hey crew! Things are moving along swimmingly for our crew-wide JP--extra thanks to all who have been participating. I'll be traveling this weekend, but next week Sail (he's the brains of this operation) has some great stuff in store for the crew and passengers of the China Doll. I hope you all have a great Guy Fawkes day!

wolf


Unforseen Circumstances


Osiris, Suburb


The 'Verse is a big, wide place. There's plenty of folk running around, and Osiris is no exception. Cal picked his way through the crowds of the shipyard and into the city proper with its high skyscrapers and pristinely modeled architecture. The suns seemed to shine brighter here, every shop window a perfect reflection of the manicured world just across the street. The duster and hat he wore, let alone the sullied boots he tromped in showed he didn't belong same as any billboard might've.

Even the Gorram street curbs were embelished with inlaid moulding. The Captain may have unintentionally scuffed a boot on said moulding while crossing the street. The place reminded him of Londinium for more reasons than one, and that unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach was exactly what propelled him forward on his errand now.

He checked the scrap of paper scrawled with his destination; just a little further now. The skyscrapers thinned into older buildings, buttressed, nonetheless, in brick and mortar in addition to the city's typical plasteel. A corner emerged which finally realized the sharp relief between 'Osiris' proper and a neglected suburb. He glanced at his watch, the hour walk from the China Doll was necessary for the privacy he needed, and this time it was from S.A.M.N.T.H.A.

The digital entity was the very reason for him traipsing around rather than taking the mule to get where he was goin'. With no com or cortex on his person, Cal hoped to obfuscate his trip from the AI, in order to get ahead of things may or may not be coming for the Doll and its crew. The contact, he'd sussed through old fashioned word of mouth on Greenleaf; man went by the name of 'Dmitry' and not much else.

Way he heard it, Mr. Universe left behind a whole lot of tech that was still piped together. And even as he was survived by his sex-doll-turned-wife, the place lay wide open to for just about anyone to send a 'Signal.' Dmitry, way he heard it, was just one of those 'someones,' and he could use it to answer a question gnawing at the back of Cal's mind.

Ever since Cal purloined SAM from Londinium, he'd been meaning to check her at her word for her tracking capabilities, just to know without a shadow she wasn't coyly playing the long game for the Alliance afterall. And now, on the stoop of a shady looking apartment with boarded windows, Cal gave the nonedescript door a solid rap.

---

An hour later, the Captain reappeared with a cigarette in his hand, lighter cupped around his face. What he learned seemed to have made a deep grimace all the deeper. The paper in his hand now gave additional instructions from the hacker in unsteady handwriting. Strand folded the note into his breast pocket. As he checked his watch, Strand loosed a stream of smoke before hitting the street back to the China Doll.
Welcome to RPG! I'm sure you'll find some literate partners up to the challenge to engage. Best of luck out there!
@Gunther Sounds good. Take your time; I look forward to seeing it on the board. Feel free to post it up!
Welcome to Bugman! Stoked to get you into the story!

Also, I finally got Lyen's CS up, now just to get to work on SAM's.
Howdy Crew,

I'm dropping a note here as an update on my hiatus.

The update is...

It's over! I'll be easing back into the role of Cal, and as things stand, I wanted to say thank you to all of you for your support and to Sail for keeping the wheels on this bus. I am behind on a couple fronts (I need to get two CS's up, one for Lyen and one for SAM who feels awfully neglected), but bear with me!

I hope you're all well and I look forward to seeing you all on the board.

Kind regards,
Wolf
Hello you colorful gang of space-flying miscreants.

As you've all probably noticed, my posting fervor has been lacking in the last month or two or three. After discussing this with Sail, he floated the idea of a hiatus for me, and I accepted.

One of our guiding tenants here at FF2V is to Write When It's Fun. This is a game and we ought to be having fun!

That said, I need a little time to get my head screwed back on the right way so that I can enjoy writing Cal and the gang properly.

Sail will be running the whole shebang for now; he has graciously accepted writing for the Captain until I come back. I'll be around, and I'll be unreachable, I just need a little space to pursue some other evolving things in my life. And I'll still be writing in the game, in some capacities.

I'll drop this message in our GChat as well, but I wanted to say thank you all for your patience and collaboration with Sail and me.

May the road rise,
Wolf
Loose Lips Sink Ships


Osiris, Day 1, Bridge of the China Doll





Before Sam had the opportunity to reply to Tommy's queries, Yuri spoke up.

"Will do, Mr. Antonov," it almost sounded like there ought to be a wink following the salute, but as she had neither eyes nor arms, the incorporeal feeling would suffice.

It was almost with delight that Sam's circuits accepted Yuri's offering of Tommy's particulars. Now, any existing searches into the identity of Tommy Pearson were augmented to fine tune for typical background biographical information. Soon, the AI had a spread of information unfurled in front of her like a deck of cards with which to build her model of the bonafide Mr. Pearson.

"To answer your question, Tommy, I'm neither crew nor passenger." There was a clicking static through the bridge com momentarily as if she were considering her reply. "And at the current juncture I have no interface with which to project an image for you to reference. Apologies." Her sterile tone tapered into one of disappointment.

"I see you fought in the war," Sam's tone was even as she gauged Tommy's facial expression. "But you signed on as an engineer." Her matter of fact tone continued, "What makes you qualified as a pilot?"

<Tag Tommy>
And You Are?


Osiris, Day 1, Bridge of the China Doll





As Tommy's hands sprung to work on the console, Sam cataloged his prominent facial features, any scarring, or birth marks. Though she had no real basis with which to compare, she accepted the human notion that the symmetry present in Tommy's visage would classify him as handsome. Herself? She was still dolled up in the myriad shells and beads courtesy of the last pilot to hold the post, tucked safely out of sight nestled in the communications bay.

The com behind Tommy crackled to life, "Hello, potential pilot Tommy, my name is Sam," her Bostonian accent lilted as her words emanated from the speaker fixed in the console. There was humor prevalent in her response, "And I don't think this ship is haunted, and I know every inch of her." Her crystalline voice somehow echoed through the com clearer than it should have, like she were sitting beside the pilot, leaning on the console with a smug look on her face--well, if she had one.

"Do you have a surname, Tommy?" The AI asked with an air of curiosity. Such data would vastly accelerate satisfaction of the historical and motivational unknowns present in the man's accumulating dossier. Already her initial analytic picked up on the nuances of his accent, his speech pattern, his timbre and 'yaw,' as it were.

<Tag Tommy>
© 2007-2017
BBCode Cheatsheet