|
|
Post by Gwebster2 on Aug 1, 2015 23:35:10 GMT
 Red by Morriperkele There is a City. The inhabitants, such as myself, call it The City, because it's the only thing they've ever known. This city, it's brown ugly, everything has holes in it, and the few things that aren't burnt out, dusty husks, are probably on fire right now, turning into said dusty, brown husks. Why, do you ask? Well, no one knows. Most people say it's because of The War. What war? The War. The only war. The war that's been going on longer than anyone can remember. Three factions. Why are they fighting? No one remembers.
Red. Blue. Yellow. No one remember their actual names. But their helmets and gas masks have always been painted with their respected colors. The only sense of civilization is the occiasional get-together that occurs when two groups of the same color meet up. That's the thing, there is no territory. Just a bunch of goons wandering around the wasteland shooting at anyone who isn't their color. Leaving crap for the rest of us, the normal people.
The Red team, well, they have the best favor with the civilians like myself. They talk just like us. Problem is though, there isn't too many of them, and their rifles and vehicles are crappy.
The Blues? They have this weird accent, but they do have some organization. They have better guns, and sometimes, even a tank.
The Yellows are where it gets dangerous. Not only do they speak a completely different language, they have the best assault rifles, and the most tanks. And there is the most of them. The only reason they haven't won yet is because there really is no way TOO win.
And that leaves me, the civilian, getting caught in the crossfire. And guess what? I just got shot.
So, whoop-de-fuckin'-do.
(based off Gone With the Blastwave)
Choose a faction. Red, Yellow, Blue, or Civilian.
Make a character paragraph. Not just of you, but anyone in your squad, as well. Create a story, have interactions between them all. You control not one, but a few people.
Combat? There will be combat. Make it work on what will create the best story. Don't fight to win, fight to create a story.
This is not serious. It's dark humor. Lighten up, would you?
---
They called him Combust. A jury-rigged flamethrower, kept together by duct-tape and prayer, is his weapon. He didn't want to brag, but he was the top-dog of his squad. He'd flamed out a few bunkers, he had the coolest weapon...it was no wonder, really. He had his iconic flame symbol scratched crudely into his forehead. The next one that anyone in his squad had any respect for was Rifles, an expert marksman with a biting tongue. They only like him because if they didn't, he would make fun of them. A crosshair was etched into his helm. Then, there was Scavenge, a burlap sack of junk flung over his shoulder. Collected from who knows what, he religiously picks up anything he can find that's of remote interest. His symbol? A circle with a bunch of other circles inside it. Everyone was confused when Artsy did it. Artsy, the fourth one. A switchblade he uses to etch symbols into helmets. He takes any old spray-paint cans he can find, and marks his "tag". He's kind of annoying, but the symbols were cool so they kept him around. He made a symbol for himself. It was an incoherant mess of lines. He couldn't see what he was doing. He said it was a word, "Art", but it didn't look like that to anyone else.
Anyway, they were wandering the desolate streets, stepping over rubble. Where were they going? To meet the Wizard. Who the fuck knows.
|
|
|
|
Post by Slacktivist on Aug 3, 2015 4:38:38 GMT
(marked)
|
|
|
|
Post by thegreatnewbebi on Aug 3, 2015 4:54:00 GMT
Sounds fun, based webcomic, based thread.
|
|
|
|
Post by Gwebster2 on Aug 3, 2015 13:53:46 GMT
"You are one ugly son of a bitch," Rifle said, glancing at Scavenge
"Wha- You don't even know what I look like," Was the response.
"Yeah, well, I just get this 'he's ugly' feel from you. You don't have to see somebody to know their ugly,"
"Yes, you do!"
"Not really. I knew you were ugly the second I heard your voice coming from the radio,"
"That's not fair,"
"All's fair in love and war," Rifle said, kicking an imaginary person in the testicles.
Artsy scoffed. "I bet you don't even know where that's from," He remarked. Rifle shifted his imaginary testicle kick into Artsy's direction. Artsy stopped talking. Meanwhile, Combust ws craning his neck, looking up at the looming skyscrapers above. They really were big.
|
|
|
|
Post by Slacktivist on Aug 4, 2015 1:35:33 GMT
Rubble. Brown rubble. Dust. Dusty rubble. Dusty brown rubble. Quiet.
"Hey Ian."
A soldier breaks the silence. Known only by the 101 tallies marking a worn red helmet, and a single name; Clarke.
"Yeah?" Ian turns his head from the scope of his jury-rigged rifle to the man surveilling the ruins beside him, the sun glinting off of the polished metal strip on his helmet.
"You ever wonder... why we're here? Why we're fighting? Because it's not for land; I mean, it's-"
"Stop. I'm just going to stop you right there, and answer you." Ian interrupts, pointing his finger at Clarke. "No."
"No?" Clarke tilted his head, a little confused.
"No, I don't wonder why we're here. Or why we're fighting. Ever. We're fighting to win. End of story. Semper fi, bitch."
|
|
|
|
Post by The Gambler on Aug 4, 2015 2:51:39 GMT
Where there's lightning, there's thunder. Chief is in command of four other crazy men, blue markings all over their armor. Chief himself is in command of a squad six numbers long, but they all call it Crazytown. Because wherever they go, things blow up, whether caused by them or by someone else. Not to mention the seemingly infinite gunshots, blood, screaming, and assorted other insanity. The best example of this squad is Jester, who doesn't even carry a rifle, just a tiny shotgun and a whole lot of knives, which he throws at people. Named for his wit, charm, and tendency to run, screaming, at people he didn't like, as well as his dancing. Then there's Quest, Chief's second-in-command, and who seems to think he has some purpose in life. Always carries a standard-issue pistol which he claims was "Passed down from his grandfather". The upside is that he seems to know people, and when things get tough, Quest somehow manages to call in the cavalry.
The other two are Hawker and Boxer. Hawker is more or less the brains of the group, as well as the tech and demolitions expert. Always listening before a turn, whispering a loud "Wait!" before going straight into what then turned out to be an ambush, and hotwiring a tank. He rarely does any fighting, just playing around with his rifle like its a toy. His safety is always on unless he's the only one available to save Jester. When he needs to help, he usually uses one of his small but impressive collection of grenades. Boxer, in contract to Hawker, is the muscle. Apparently committed more crimes that can be counted, but still thrown in to fight, with the people in command just hoping he'll die or something. Carries a big gun, some ammo-eating freak that spews out pure death. When the squad is in trouble, Boxer always just shoots stuff to solve the problem. The only difficulty is Jester, who tends to get in the way. But that gun will rip through walls, people, barricades, anything except a tank.
That's Crazytown for you. Yippee ki yay, killing stuff, screaming, and not looking at explosions all day.
|
|
|
|
Post by Gwebster2 on Aug 5, 2015 0:30:21 GMT
"Hey, that's cool," Combust said, pointing at a large skyscraper that was leaning on another one.
Artsy spoke. "It's not just cool, it's...awesome. And not in an awesome in way you think of it, I mean awe-some. How long ago did that fall? We are just specs in this city. Those two buildings will stay, locked in an embrace, forever-"
A huge booming groan in the distance. A large dust explosion as the buildings collapse.
"What does that mean?" Combust said.
|
|
|
|
Post by Slacktivist on Aug 5, 2015 3:06:50 GMT
Three red soldiers, all marching in line.
In the front, the leader. Sarge, with a shotgun in hand and an ace of spades marked on his helmet. Behind him, Clarke with dirty brown rifle and Ian with his sniper rifle.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
CRACK..
Ian, too busy looking for someone to shoot, steps on and trips over something, hitting the ground. He looks back, and sees a body. A soldier, long dead. A few rotted rats(?) lie next to him, as well as a rusted knife. But his armor was green, a color often forgotten.
"The hell? Green?" Clarke wondered aloud.
"I dunno. That doesn't seem right.."
"Maybe they're so smart that we never see them.. Right?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Gwebster2 on Aug 11, 2015 3:07:36 GMT
"I hope we meet up with some other people soon," Said Scavenge.
"Why?" Rifle responded.
....
"Huh."
|
|
|
|
Post by The Gambler on Aug 11, 2015 8:18:55 GMT
So I'm walking along first, ready to take on the world. Quest is right behind me, as always, Jester and Boxer are having a private joke in the back, and Hawker is in the middle looking around for something to talk about. "Hey Chief," Quest says to me, just as we cross the street. Hawker tries to make some comment about the burned out car with two doors missing. Like, completely gone, as if they were never there, missing, but Quest continues and I can't hear. "Why are we in red territory? Some kind of special mission?" I take a glance at the destroyed car Hawker has now given up on commenting on, look down the street for any sign of red uniforms, and don't see any. Even though we're in their territory, they know better than to mess with blues better armed and probably more ready to die than they are.
"Yes, we're here to melt down red armor into soup for the poor." I say, sounding completely serious. Boxer gives me a look. I don't see it, but I know he did it. "No, we're just wandering through red territory, maybe we'll get lucky and find a tank." I say, definitely serious this time. "But wouldn't we have a better chance of finding something usable in yellow territory?" Hawker asks. "Yeah, but the yellows might have a chance against us." I reply, "The reds are like rats, and we're gonna pick and choose what we take here. Don't expect anything nice though." We turn the corner to go at an angle to the way we were going previously. The road's littered with old stuff. An upside down car, banana-yellow paint flecks still hanging on, piles of rubble from the buildings that can barely be said to have walls, even corpses wearing all three colors, though none of it armor, just cloth and leather and whatnot. The armor pieces themselves were certainly pulled off and repainted.
But that's when I see them in the street with us. Four fancy-schmancy figures dressed all in red, all with weird markings on their helmets, one with a flamethrower of all things, and another with a huge sack full of whatever slung over one shoulder. It looked like they hadn't spotted us yet, so I turned, hold out a hand to stop and another over my mouth to make sure everyone stays silent. We all duck down behind one of the larger piles of rubble, concrete and wood and whatnot piled high enough so that if the reds turned, it would be a lot harder to spot us. Pointing two fingers to Quest and Boxer, I then pull my hand back and bring it down quickly, pointing to the upside down car. They nod, and sprint- quietly- to take cover near it. Now I point to Jester, and do the same motion to indicate a pile of rubble that's much taller than it is wide, probably a couple big roof boards that fell down, and is big enough to completely hide one person from view. Jester runs off to hide behind it. I peek my head over my cover, that I currently share with Hawker, and wait for the reds to do something.
(here gweb, here's your chance to do something)
|
|
|
|
Post by Gwebster2 on Aug 11, 2015 16:04:38 GMT
"Well that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" Rifle shouts.
Artsy shrinks back from his loud voice.
"How could a colored line be art!? It's idiotic! Stupid!"
Arty's voice was quiet. "It represents-"
"A line doesn't represent anything! It's a line! You use lines to make art! The line isn't the art!"
"Just because you don't understand-"
Combust holds up a hand. "Did you guys hear that?"
Everyone falls silent.
"It's the sound of two idiots arguing," He deadpans. Scavenge makes a hissing sound, a noise similiar to something being burned. They keep walking aimlessly, horizontal in orientation to a large group of debris where a few small forms were hiding.
|
|
|
|
Post by The Gambler on Aug 12, 2015 6:16:58 GMT
"Wait for Jester," I whisper, hoping Quest and Boxer get my message, even though it's impossible because they're several meters away, ahead and to the right, behind the wrecked car. Hawker probably won't even shoot, at most he'll fling out a concussion grenade when we need it or something. Jester's our initiator, in ambushes like this, and I've silently drilled it over with the others. It wouldn't help Jester's ego any if I actually said out loud that we relied on him to attack first.
I can see Jester a bit ahead, behind his huge, narrow piece of rubble. The reds were walking in our direction, but I couldn't tell if they had noticed us or were just doing a patrol. They were definitely a squad of some sort though, I had heard them talking. I couldn't make out the words, but they definitely knew each other. They don't seem to notice Jester, who has a knife in each hand and grinning like it's Feasting Day*. Just a few moments longer, and Jester will attack. I've seen him in action a lot, and it'll be any second now...
Yes, just as I thought. Jester gives a bloodcurdling howl like his mother's a wolf as he runs towards the red in the back of their group. Quest and I rise simultaneously, our rifles already tracking towards the reds. Hawker is staying down, no surprise, and Boxer is apparently smart enough to stay down and not eat up all his ammo in the first few moments, or else Quest thought up a plan with him.
(*Thanksgiving, basically. Everyone stuffs their mouths and bellies to celebrate another year of surviving the war.)
|
|
|
|
Post by Gwebster2 on Aug 12, 2015 19:28:07 GMT
Combust stares at the crazy man charging at him.
"Who's that?" Scavenge asks.
"I don't know,"
"Should we do something?"
"I guess so,"
"He's got friends too,"
"Hm,"
They are silent for a moment.
"It looks like he's going for you," Combust said.
"It does?"
"Yeah, look. He's comin' right for you,"
...
"Well," Combust said.
He raises up his flamethrower and lets go of a large blast of liquid gasoline, onto the crazy guy, and lowers his flamethrower to burn him to cinders. Rifle crouches down behind a post box, Arsty straight up runs away, and Scavenge pulls out a small revolver and takes a couple of potshots at the ground.
|
|
|
|
Post by The Gambler on Aug 12, 2015 20:16:22 GMT
The reds stand around doing nothing for a moment, just watching Jester run at them. Then the flamethrower-wielding one lifts it up and sprays Jester. We haven't survived this long for nothing though, and I can see Jester already doing what I like to call a 'hotfoot' routine. He dances to the left, throws a knife at the red which intentionally misses but, if all goes well, unnerves or distracts him, then dances to the right, throws another knife which should hit, but I'm too busy shooting at the one with the revolver and sack to see what happens.
Over at the car, Quest isn't shooting yet, but Boxer is up and putting round after round into the post box one of the reds took cover under. Quest is probably covering him, and if the red tries to escape, Quest gets a bullet in him, while if he stays there, Boxer is gonna shred him. Good strategy. I'm concerned that the red who ran away might try to come back and flank us, or even try to get another squad to come, in which case we'd be outnumbered. I'd tell Hawker to chase, but it's too far away and right through the battlezone, and Hawker wouldn't kill or injure the red if he had a choice.
|
|
|
|
Post by Gwebster2 on Aug 12, 2015 20:27:56 GMT
The crazy guy hops to the right and avoids the gasoline spray and tosses a knife. Combust starts starts flaming now, a huge cloud of fire. A knife comes through the flames heading straight to his forehead. It's handle hits, instead of the blade, and bounces off his helmet. He couldn't believe his luck! Scavenge just stands in the middle of the road as pullets whiz past him. He guesses this isn't working and walks over to Rifle.
"Hello, Rifle," He says.
Rifle swears at Scavenge as pullets ping into the ground around the post box.
"Are you ****ing serious? You are really ****ing **** ** *** ****** **** *** **** AROUND!? YOU **** **** **** **** **** ***!"
Scavenge is taken aback.
"Well, if you feel that way about things," He stands up and strolls over to a new piece of cover just as a hail of bullets swamp the post-box. Rifle sticks his barrel around cover but it is smacked by a well placed shot back into his place.
Meanwhile, Artsy is running down the street as fast as he can. Suddenly, a group of shadows appear. "Help! My friends are being shot at!" As evidenced by the bullet sounds echoing off the buildings. "We need-" Suddenly, he is as full of holes similar to that of swiss cheese. He falls to the ground like a deflated balloon.
A yellow emerges from the dusty cloud and looks upon the corpse, barrel smoking. He says something to another and they begin down the street towards the gunfight.
|
|
|
|
Post by The Gambler on Aug 12, 2015 20:44:46 GMT
Well, looks like that flamethrower did something to deflect Jester's knife, making it turn over and hit the red in the helmet handle-first. Jester has plenty more knives, and I can take a breather now that the idiot standing in the middle of the road is behind cover of his own. It's amazing Boxer didn't cut him down. Quest is suppressing their attack guy with the rifle pretty well it looks like, so I turn my attention to Hawker. "Grenade, something hot. These guys like to play with fire." Hawker nods and pats his belt, unclipping one grenade with a fire symbol on it. He pulls the pin and chucks it, and it flies through the air, lands on the ground, bounces once then rolls a little, and suddenly explodes and an inferno is covering the ground between Jester with his flamethrower buddy, and the red rifler. With concrete and asphalt and whatnot, it won't last long.
There's more gunshots, barely audible over Boxer's gun and the red's flamethrower and the newly exploded incendiary grenade. Something that shoots at least as fast as Boxer's gun, and I don't think the reds have anything of that sort. Which means other blues, friendlies, or yellows, very, very unfriendly. All I can do is pray, and hope Jester survives. He's behind cover again, making the red play hide and seek now that his vision was obscured by his own flamethrower. I can barely see him myself. Quest and Boxer, meanwhile, are doing their job at keeping the other red down, and the last one is doing nothing so far.
|
|
