Dystopias 'n' Shit

[The Quartz!™]

Setting:

A small world.

A world where there are only a handful of governments. A world where every last one of these governments are corrupt.

There are only five cities in the small world, and each and every last one of them is completely corrupt.

And should you try to escape these dystopias, you will undoubtedly be caught. If you are caught, you are beaten, thrown in prison, tortured, and sometimes killed.

No one even remembers why the government is like this because it has been so long. Nobody really knows the origin of these evil empires.

Most everyone just learns to deal with these things and tries to live their life. But there are so many things that are against the law that it's hard to be completely "innocent" in the eyes of the governments.

Others are rebels. Day by day they try and escape these places so that they can live out their lives in peace out in the woods, or even the desert; anything would be better.

And then there are heroes. Those who dream to escape, much like the rebels, but then work out plans in hope of destroying these governments altogether.


Start-up:

You'll all be starting in one of the prisons in one of the five cities. Everyone will have their own reasons for being there, whether your character wasn't meaning to do anything wrong, or they were rebels, or whatever.

Character Profiles:

Obviously, all of your characters will need biographies. Here is a form for this:

Name: Self-explanatory.
Age: Self-explanatory.
Gender: Self-explanatory.
Species/Race: Self-explanatory.
Alignment:
Lawful Good: An absolutely heroic character- Never strays from the law.
Neutral Good: A good character. Occasionally finds that they must break the law, although reluctant they may be.
Chaotic Good: A character with a good heart, but really doesn't care about the law.
Lawful Neutral: Someone who is not at all bad but they don't want to be good.
True Neutral: A tree hugger who does not care for society in the least.
Chaotic Neutral: Insane. You can't ever predict what the hell they're gonna do or say.
Lawful Evil: Lawful Evil is basically organized crime. Or running a government in a dystopia... Hitler was lawful evil, but not all Lawful Evil people are as mean as him.
Neutral Evil: Doesn't follow anybody, an absolute outlaw.
Chaotic Evil: Chaotic Evil characters just plain like causing havoc...
Special Abilities: Maximum of three. Four or five if they're not all that special, but please don't control sand or anything god-moddy like that.
Description: Describe your character, and/or post an image of him/her.
Biography: Self-explanatory.

I'd like it if everyone had about 2 characters. Unfortunately, I'm going to have to be the one controlling all of the bad-guys as well. Ohh boy!

Dystopias:
As previously mentioned, there are a total of five dystopias. One is in what used to be a forest, another on the top of a mountain, one in the middle of a desert, yet another in space, and lastly one that's underwater. We'll be starting out in the former, however.

Characters:
Here is a list of character profiles we has.

Name: Riordan
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Species/Race: Anthro Hedgey
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Special Abilities: Bizarre Sense of Humor, Complete Immunity to Fire
Description: Riordan is a Hedgey. He has Shadow's build, but he has Light Blue primary and yellow secondary colors. He wears a black cloak and has a Devil Tail, and his shoes are Navy Blue. His gloves are fingerless and black. He has a small amount of over-growing hair that goes slightly into his eyes, much like Tails.
Biography: Riordan was once a happy little boy. He was happy with his family even though they had terrible lives in one of the many dystopias. He didn't know the evils of the world quite yet, and he didn't know that it could be any better. He was simply ignorant of the entire situation and quite the cheery sort. But he grew older and he began to learn a couple of the terrible things that happened outside. He was still happy though, and cracked jokes all the time. One day though, as his family and him were sleeping in their house, for an unknown reason a fire started very abruptly. Because of this Riordan thinks to this day that it was no accident. He didn't wake up until he heard screaming, and when he did wake up he saw nothing but the orange glow of flames. He was very scared. He wasn't burning though and he found that very odd indeed. It just felt warm. He heard the screams of his parents trying to escape the fire... But the screams stopped. Finally, Riordan was encompassed with flames, but he didn't burn. He didn't even notice because he was so busy crying. His family was gone. What was he to do? He was only 12 years old... He couldn't do anything. Finally he opened his eyes, and noticed that the flames seemed to evade him. He reached an arm out and the flames spread around it... He was amazed. Eventually he came out of the house with all of his possessions that had actually survived. He had no idea where to go now, though.
No one knows what happened after that. All that is known now is that he's somehow alive to this day, but he is completely insane. He went mad undoubtedly from all of the sadness that overcame him as he struggled to survive against the cops, and he'll never give a straight answer to any question. He still has a sense of humor, but at this point it is completely twisted. He is a fragment of his original self that has been tortured through the struggle to survive. One thing is known though, and that's that Riordan uses very strange weapons. He uses a Flamethrower, a Flare Gun, a Crossbow with a scope, and what he calls an "Axtinguisher." It is a seemingly magical weapon in that it seems to be a very dull axe that barely cuts; but it will instantly chop something in half like a knife through butter if it is alight.
Overall Riordan is quite insane and having a serious conversation with him, or getting a straight answer to anything, is a useless thing to attempt.

Link to profile, so as to save space.

[The Commander ("B")]

Link to profile, so as to save space.

"Nngh..." A voice sounded briefly, breaking the silence of the room. It all appeared black... The walls. The roof. The floor. As if in space, it seemed. No sights. No sounds. No feeling. No people. Just... Empty space. Just existence.

A figure in the room twitched slightly, looking around the room. He was dressed in a black jumpsuit, which was designed specifically for the purpose of surviving in a vaccuum (Space being a typical example), or harsh temperatures. The suit itself consisted of an LCG, the liquid cooling and ventalation garment, TMP (thermal micrometeoroid protection, which gave slight protection), insulation, various particle radiation shielding, and other components. Normally, this would add up to a complete space suit, exactly what the astronauts use... Big, bulky, and practical for only that. However, recent advances in technology allowed for it to appear as little more than a full body suit. It had several points in it that allowed for the insertion of healing products. The numbers "2017" were visible in plain white on the left side of his chest.

The room was revealed to be not black, but some shade of white... His vision, however, was blurred severely. The second he could even see as such, extreme pain came over him. Pulsing constantly, sharp yet dull... Particularly in his back and left arm. This forced him to take in a deep breath, lasting a full twenty seconds before finally exhaling. A strong smell and taste also reached him, sickly sweet, tasting like medical products, such as the liquid one would take after taking heavy damage. This forced him to cough, as he hated it. As the pain came to a peak, he stifled a grunt. His face didn't show it, apart from his eyes narrowing, as his muscles had long since forgot how to.

That was when it stopped. Just ceased. He still couldn't feel his left arm... Nor his legs. He assumed that would be fixed momentarily. He could still hardly see... His sight was probably at fifty percent. He pulled himself to his feet, realizing he was lying against the wall, stretching out his right hand. It instantly hit the wall. He stretched out the left... Same thing. So, he had enough space to stretch out his arms, and that was it. Flat walls. He assumed it to be symmetrical. He walked put his hand out in front of him, and walked forward. He felt his hand hit something cold... Glass, perhaps, as there was a faint light outside.

He couldn't remember a thing. Not his name, his age, and certainly not his location. He was in a box of a room, he figured that much out quickly. Perhaps a cell. The question wasn't who he was, however... That didn't matter. The real question was: Where was he? And who was behind that window?

[The Quartz!™]

Riordan awoke slowly. He instantly reacted to the people all around him, pulling out his ax- What? His axe wasn't on him. In fact, no one was around him. Nothing was around him. He couldn't breath particularly well, either. "HEY!! CUT THAT OUT!! STOP CHASING ME!! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!!" He suddenly realized, again, that he wasn't fighting anymore. He must have been captured, finally, after all these years. "GET ME OUT OF HERE!! YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS OF MY MAD SKIT-TALS!!" He hesitated, waiting for someone to come. Then he suddenly realized his surroundings. It was hard to see in the light, but he was in a small glass cage. He immediately thought of burning it. He pulled out his Flameth- "DUDE SERIOUSLY! MY FLAMETHROWER IS GONE?! WHEN I GET THAT THING BACK I'LL BURN ALL YOUR ASSES!!"

[The Commander ("B")]

Seventeen tilted his head slightly, fairly certain that he'd heard a noise. He didn't move at all, because there wasn't any room to move in. When he heard another noise, he was then certain... There was someone shouting coming from somewhere. The walls were thick, so he couldn't tell where exactly it had been coming from. That, or his hearing hadn't fully returned to him. He hoped it was the former, but was sure it was the latter.

So, I'm not alone, at least.

He wiped a small amount of sweat from his face with the back of the glove of his suit. It wasn't really hot to him, for reasons he was sure had to do with the suit, but the humidity made it seem a little hotter. He curled his hands into tightly balled fists, then brought one of them into the door. He wasn't hoping that it would be brought down when he did such, but rather, he needed to empty the tension into something... That something just happened to be the door in this case, which he wished would open, but knew it wouldn't. "Ni duraanir gar," he hissed at the door. He put his foot against it, and began to push forward with as much force he could manage.

It still hadn't moved. Quite typically. Contradictory to what he had thought to be true before, he quickly realized that he was actually in a glass cage. He assumed it wasn't really glass, but some other reinforced glass-like substance. There were stone walls outside the glass... That was why he thought he was in a stone chamber. The door, however... That was a complete mistake. It was all glass... But the light was so dim, he couldn't really tell.

He couldn't see anyone, or anything. There was a blank wall outside, with a security camera on it. That was about it. "Who's out there?" he called out briefly, certain that the answer wouldn't be one he appreciated. That, or there wouldn't be one, but instead he'd get a bolt through his head. He preferred it to be the former.

[The Quartz!™]

Riordan, with his fairly large ears, picked up the voice of someone else pretty easily. Then he said, "Definitely not your mom!" He then began to cackle uncontrollably, falling to the ground in laughter. "HAHAHAHAHA!!" He then paused, got back up, and considered. "At least I hope I'm not your mom. That would be pretty weird!"

[The Commander ("B")]

Seventeen didn't say anything in return to the words. He almost considered ending all communication immediately. However, he was unable to do such. Simply because, this person was the only other person who could give him any intelligence on the situation anywhere outside his cell. Because he was obviously in a cell, he'd figured that out very easily at this point. But... He didn't know where. So, he was forced to deal with this di'kut.

"Well, definitely not your mom, do you know our location?" he asked, not paying attention to what could be a very large annoyance. "I assume we're in some form of prison blocks." He didn't bother asking for the guy's real name. He knew he'd get a load of osik in return. "I just woke up in this cell. I don't even remember what I did twenty four hours ago." He was listening carefully for an answer. His mind was still having trouble processing some things, and hearing was not an entirely working function.

[The Quartz!™]

"Da bad guys got us!" He screamed like a little boy. "Dey thew us in a stupid cell when we fells unconc... Unconsheesh... FORGET IT." Riordan was so embarrassed to be here. "I can't believe they finally got me! After all this time of killing thems peoples for so long!" He then finally remembered that someone was asking him questions. "Bad guys got us when we were asleep and threw us in stinky cells! I just wish they weren't all homosexuals!"

[The Commander ("B")]

The bad guys? That's descriptive. Seventeen raised a brow, leaning against a wall. So. I've been captured. So has this di'kut. That's a lot to work with. However, whoever was in the next room was referring to their captors as the "bad guys." However, in the same breath, he said he had been killing them for a long period of time. Throwing in a new question: He was in a prison. So, who was the bad guy? The person in the other cell could have been the enemy, for all he knew.

However, he had to assume that their captors were indeed enemies. The logic was flawed, admittedly, but he must have done something they didn't like very much. So, he had to drain as much out of this person as he could... Biased, though the information would be, he was sure. Worse yet, the person appeared to be someone who should have been in a cell for simply being a di'kut. Unfortunately, the person was the only person who would speak. "So, we've been captured? By who? Where are we? Prison?"

[The Quartz!™]

"Da bad guys captured us! They aren't nice at all. The government capture people and leave them in cell, or sometimes they just kill people. Like ma and pa. They stinky butt-faces!" Riordan banged on the glass repeatedly then, making childish noises as he did so. "Yeah we in prison. Dey either killed us or put us in prison. Dunno which. But I tells ya, it really is like hell when I dun have my guns to kill governments with!"

[The Commander ("B")]

Seventeen listened, wishing that the kid would give him a straight answer. Voice-wise, he'd judge the person to be in the late teen years. But yet, the person's way of speaking hinted he wasn't in the mindframe of someone of that age... He could have been wrong. He himself sounded older than he was. So, the possibilities were open. But, he supposed that the kid was biasing his opinions greatly. Meaning the people who imprisoned them could have been the good guys.

Unfortunately for him, because he couldn't get the answer, he had to assume that he did something they didn't like... Meaning he was probably against them. That might have explained why he was getting a burning feeling in the back of his head. He felt like he'd woke up after having a concussion. Which he didn't appreciate too much. So, he would have to set out to escape the prison cell... And find out what was going on. He'd probably have to wreak vengeance upon someone; Well, the best time to start was now. But if he spoke to quickly, he feared he would seem suspicious.

"Well. I'm fairly sure they haven't killed us. Unless this throbbing pain in my head happens to be the hole where they decided to pull the trigger," he said, glad that he at least knew where he was. Dead, or in prison. He tended to assume it was the latter. "So, we're in prison. So, we must have done something they don't like. I assume you're in here for murder..." He held his breath for a moment. "Self-defense murder." He was forced to strategically string his words together.

He took a deep breath, forced to ponder why he himself was in the prison cell. Murder? He felt as though it was possible. He had faint recollections of a man swinging two blades at several oncoming people. And having his hand blown clean off. Theft? Didn't seem like something he'd do. He couldn't imagine what he'd need other than basic supplies, which, judging by his health, he had. There were many others he thought of, but none he felt he'd do. First, though, he had to figure out who he was... What he'd done in the past week. "So, kid. You got a name? Or am I going to have to make one for you?"

[The Quartz!™]

Riordan considered for a moment. His name was not coming to him. Nobody had addressed him by his name in a very long time. Longer than he could really remember. "My name is Dookie. How about yours', good man?!"

[The Commander ("B")]

The temporary silence hinted at the fact. The kid didn't know, and had really just thought of some random thing. That was okay, though, Seventeen supposed. He could imagine reasons why he couldn't remember. He made it sound like he'd been on the run. Meaning he probably didn't have anyone with him, or he would have commented on it. Nobody to say his name. Well, that made enough sense. He didn't imagine someone trying to kill you would want to sit down for a cup of tea and a long, sensible talk.

He supposed he should have seen the question of his own name coming, but it caught him off-guard.

He sat down in the cell, facing the wall the voice seemed to be coming from. It was always possible that he himself had lost his mind, and was talking to some figment of his imagination. But, that wasn't too important. It seemed real enough, and was explaining some of what he needed to hear. So. He'd communicate. Wasn't like he had much else to do, other than waste away in a cell. He had to give his own name some thought as well.

"I uh... I don't know," he said at last, not bothering to lie. "I don't remember who I am. When I got here. How old I am. I don't even know if I had a name." He was doing his best to remember his name, giving it all his mental effort. He searched every last bit of his mind, but came up with blanks. However, he remembered numbers very clearly. Specifically, the number seventeen. But, that would sound stupid. "Well, ad'ika," he began, probably sounding like a fool to use a foreign language, "you can call me Atin." That was a good name, he supposed. It meant stubborn or persistent in that odd language he took to using. A word he liked. "So... Dookie," he said, raising a brow as he said it, the name itself stating that he didn't know, "Have you got a plan to get out of here?"

[The Quartz!™]

"Oh, I does goes and shoot people." Riordan said without really thinking about the question at all. "Oh wait, I noes... We trapped in cage so we canna get out. Maybeh if I pauwnch it!" He then punched the glass, and nothing even budged. Well, except his knuckles. "Owwwwiiiiieeee!!" The noise he made was quite loud. He habitually started to search for a place to hide himself, before remembering that he was in a cell, and that making noise was actually a good thing. "I wonderz if they'll ever come over here. If dey decide that they wants to tortures us, then we have to eat dinners, right?" Riordan then made his voice as low as possible, "THEN WE STRIKE."

[The Commander ("B")]

Seventeen, now calling himself "Atin," shook his head in disbelief. He brought two fingers up to the side of his head, pointing directly at his cerebellum, with his thumb also extended, usually thought of as a gun shape. He then retracted his thumb, and extended it again. Bang. Game over. I died. Can I get the hell out now, please? He couldn't believe he had to work with this mirosik, but he was otherwise screwed.

"If they're torturing us, they don't have to give us anything, except on the day we're due to die. Then they give us the bare minimum, and perhaps a few stimulants. Starving to death can usually be a very effective way of torture," he stated briefly. He thought about it for a few moments, deciding it was probably true. Then a thought hit him. How do I know this?! I don't even know who I am, how do I know how to torture people? Of course, it was common sense, in his opinion. "So, I wouldn't count on food anytime soon."

He wished he had some explosive ordnance. If he did, he could set a few charges on the door, and blow it straight to hell. But there were multiple problems. One, he didn't have anything but the suit he was wearing. Two, the range would be terrible, and would probably send a piece of shrapnel into every cell of his body. Explosives at close range tended to have a nasty habit of causing instant death. If not the shrapnel, then the blunt force trauma could be capable of it.

Then it hit him again. He didn't know these things. But he was thinking them. Had he seen a video of it, and just couldn't remember, or... No. It didn't seem possible he'd lived through it. "And anyway, if they do feed us, there's probably a panel in the door to slip food through..." He thought about it for a long, long while... And then the idea hit him. "If they aren't going to come in here to give us food..." he began, still trying to word it right. "Then perhaps a medical situation may draw them in. For instance, a heart attack. However, I doubt they'd care too much..."