Journey Of A Golden Spirit: Rossi Di Napoli (Mass Effect/JoJo)

Earth.

The cradle of humanity. Your mother. Your home.

Your pale blue dot.

But you didn't stay there long. The places beyond called to you. Your fragile little world simply wasn't enough, and you only wished to move onwards, to the edge of your world and beyond.

You had already reached the moon a century ago, planted a flag there, and on the hundredth anniversary of that event, the first moon base was established, that flag still standing, untouched. A landmark in your history as a species.

That was then. This is now.

The year is 2148, and a team of scientists have discovered something equally beautiful and terrible at the Martian South Pole. Artefacts over 50 millennia old, records worth petabytes of data, showing that whatever aliens had been there before had observed humans around the Cro-Magnon era. Alongside that, a veritable cornucopia of scientific data, caches of a new, stable element, and a strange device that was responsible for equally strange electromagnetic readings and apparently changes in the very mass of the area around it.

That last part was kept from the public, though. Would be until someone figured out what the hell it actually was. If it was important, they'd tell about it, if it was some ancient alien smoothie maker, then they'd cannibalise it into something important and tell the public about that instead.

Still, the revelation shook all humanity in many aspects of their lives. Religions scrambled to decry or assimilate or ignore the evidence of extraterrestrial life. Wars slowed down overnight, the realisation that there was another 'them' for 'us' to be against quenching the idea of conflict against other humans somewhat.

Almost overnight in bureaucratic time, an international body was created, backed by the 18 most powerful countries on the planet. The Systems Alliance, it was to be called.

Then, one day, a group of really rather odd people just walked into a meeting about the machine unearthed yesterday at the artefact site, and the bizarre readings it created.

Some are wearing a pattern on armbands and caps of a foundation that would best be described as a 'humanity advancement initiative-' it has been around for over 200 years, helping advance technology, medicine, education, aiding those considered unfortunate for little more than a promise that they would use their second chance well, and generally helping humanity make leaps and bounds in all aspects. If you remember correctly, they're the only non-government agency allowed access to the technology from the ruins.

Aside from the uniforms, there are two men who are much more… there's no other word, gaudy, in their attire. Jewellery, bright clothes with designs that had apparently been cut straight out of a vogue fashion designer's sketchbooks, but dour, chiselled faces. Despite their peacockish appearances, they're obviously serious men.

Councillor Pearce, three to your left, opens.

"Ah… Gentlemen? How... how may we help you?"

One of the dour peacock men comes forward, brandishing a file in a way that makes you wonder if he's more used to having a weapon in his hand instead. He places it on the table and then his hand on top of it.

He looks over the gathered councillors, gently counting under his breath as he does so.

"18? 18, yeah. Gemini!" He mutters, then yells

He slides the file along the table, only for it to seem to… separate, and suddenly there are two files. He put his other hand on the new file, and slides it along as well, creating a third and fourth file. This magical process continues until there are 18 files, one for each of you. He gathers them up and begins handing them out to you and the other, hopefully equally bewildered councillors.

Naturally, you're all… really very confused. What the hell was that?

"Please, when you have the time, read this file, and keep what you just saw in mind." The second peacock man calls out. "The world, this world, Earth… there are certain things about it that have been kept secret from humanity at large. After some internal debate, the Speedwagon Foundation has decided that you, as the ones responsible for our ventures into the stars, should be privy to these secrets."

The first smirks, and as he makes his way back to the group, he turns and calls back to the table at large.

"Oh, yeah, before we go, yes, there's an explanation for what I just did in there, and no, the Nazi cyborgs aren't a joke."

After that, they leave, nobody daring to stop them.

In your office, you stare at the file. You've no idea what your fellow councillors have done with theirs, but so far all you've considered using it for is killing that spider in the corner of your window before you find out if it's venomous or not. Eventually, though, you put aside your arachnophobic tendencies and open the file.

As you read through it, you think back to the human Xerox machine from earlier, keeping him firmly in mind. You find that when you do that, a lot of what you're reading seems… almost less fantastical.

Vampires caused by a stone mask, one of which, a bare neonate who didn't last ten minutes before the sun took him, was the cause of London's Shattered Wall. A Tibetan mindful breathing technique used to defeat them. Manifestations of the soul caused by an ancient bow and arrow, with abilities ranging from manipulating sand to resetting cause and effect.

Nazi cyborgs. With eye lasers. And miniguns in their torso.

… What. No, seriously, hwat.

You close the file there, and begin rubbing your temples, wondering exactly what you're going to do about this revelation. The second one in as many months.

Except…

You are not Councillor Emmet. You are a collection of beings given a little peek into the state of this particular iteration of a story told again and again throughout a hundred thousand universes.

You are fluid. A gestalt unbound by simple little things like 'causality' and 'the natural flow of time.'

You have a privilege here. That privilege is Protagonism. Except… where is Shepard, in this universe?

[] Mindoir- Shepard ain't just your name here. Green fields for the livestock, plenty of hunting game, wonderfully fresh air, the hum of Batarian slave carriers- wait, what? Oh. Aw, jeez, Shepard. You should probably go and hide.(Gain trait 'Breathe Deep,' gain opportunity "S U R V I V E.")
[] Earthborn- You wanna get street gangs? This is how we get street gangs. Be a Shepard who had to do what they needed to in order to survive all the petty street wars in the dark, smoky streets of Napoli. (Gain trait "Gang Starr," gain opportunity "The Needles.")
[] Spacer- You currently live on the SSV Erba Verde, a small military medical complex with a mass effect engine crammed down its metaphorical gullet. It's cramped, it's basically one giant hospital cum rehab centre, what for, you're not sure, and you wouldn't have it any other way. Still, you're wondering why some people around here wear those odd, chunky collars… (Gain trait "Military Brat Blues," gain opportunity "More Than Human/Vitae Aeternus.")

---

---

---

Head: Your hair. It's red. And well kept. You have nice hair.

Torso: One (1) black hoodie with grey highlights around the lapels and down one arm, One (1) white t-shirt.

Legs: One (1) pair of denim jeans. Wait, do you get any other kind of jeans? One (1) thick leather belt.

Weapon: Knuckledusters- they're a little well-worn, and they're a little loose, and the padding on the inside's gone a little, but they're still better than your bare fist. (+1 to damage rolls on physical attacks)

---

• 356,200 Lire (210 US Dollars, 53 Credits)
• One (1) phone, great by today's standards, not so great by, uh, "today's" standards.
• One (1) of The Needles.
• Three (3) Men's Watches, Generic Brand(s)- thick, chunky faces, thin leather bands, except for one that seems to just have chunks of iron stapled together for a band, they're not Rolexes, but they're good watches.
• Seven (7) Smartphones, (Condition Range: Medium-Great)- Yeah, they're locked, probably, but you know there's ways around that. Unlock them, see if there's anything worth saving onto a hard drive, wipe the buggers, sell 'em on. Easy money.
• Six (6) Pieces of Jewellery- Earring, rings, necklaces- those guys were pretty decked out. You might not get much for them, but money's money.

---

"Currency can be exchanged for goods and services."
Mulligans in stock: 1

Known Mulligan Uses:

Knowledge Is Power- One mulligan is worth one honestly answered question from the GM. This question requires a majority vote in order to be considered for a mulligan. If it isn't, I'll answer it anyway.

Waitwaitwait, redo, redo- One mulligan is worth one reroll and this use requires at least five* people to vote on a reroll in order to, well, reroll. However, the twist- Rogue Trader rules. You are stuck with the reroll, regardless of whether it's lower, higher, or exactly the same.

*This number is subject to change, either raising or lowering depending on the average number of voters we have per update.

Lord M said:

Are stands common "knowledge "?
Also if yes do they know that the material in the meteor can wake the STANDS of those with potential?

Also is it possible to we to study/find one of those meteors?

Click to expand...

Click to shrink...

No and right now, no, respectively.

Stands are not common knowledge, simply due to their relative rarity, and the sheer difficulty of proving they exist to people without Stands, and even if you were in Greenland, all you would find of the one that landed on Earth is maybe some dust. No, that was all snatched up a while ago.

Voting is now closed, and Earthborn wins!

Update will be up sometime in the next RIGHT NOW-

|||

Your name is [ERROR] Shepard.

What? No, [ERROR], not [ERROR]- [ERROR] Shepard. Shepard, [ERROR]- oh, sod it, we'll fix that later.

Right, moving on- your name is, Somethingorother Shepard, you're 16 years old, and you're currently in the middle of getting the shit stomped out of you in a back alley in Naples by seven angry Italians because you have one of their wallets in your back pocket.

… I know people who'd pay for that kinda thing.

Er- you're currently trying to keep your lunch in your stomach, and, admittedly, managing admirably, despite the several boots to the gut you're getting.

Now, at this point, you might be tempted to think about why you're getting your shit stomped in, but the act of getting your shit stomped in isn't very conducive to introspection. If you had to make an attempt, at least, you suppose trying to steal one of their wallets, in retrospect, not your brightest idea.

"Vaffanculo, Rosso pieza di merda!" One of your assailants shouts, seemingly unaware of your inability to fuck off due to her boot constantly slamming against your thighs.

Ah. Yes. Of course. Being part of a different gang would definitely be a reason for you to be getting beat up like this.

Thing is, you remember joining the Via Pontano Rossi specifically to avoid this shit. Instead, it just makes you a target for 7 on 1 beatdowns like this because your colours stand out against anything this side of the Kuiper Belt. Granted, again, you started it, but... they're Verdes, man, how are you supposed to pass up an opportunity to bring those assholes down to size?

You curl up a little further, and try and protect your face as best you can.

Eventually, your attackers get bored, and, after a quick stomp or two to the kidneys for good measure, decide to move on, leaving you on the ground, groaning and twitching while you try and force your body to move.

Injuries- probably going to look like an oversized plum tomorrow, possible damage to kidneys and spine, cut on lips, bloody nose, sprained wrist and ankle, swelling eye, and severely damaged pride. Nothing seems broken. Pain rating- 6/10. First aid required, Hamon/medical treatment advised.

Eventually, after a while, you work up the energy to pick yourself up, and limp out of the alley, gritting your teeth every time your heel makes contact with the floor, sending streamers of pain all the way up your leg. You feel something shifting around the buttocks area.

... There's no way.

… Still, a quick pat around just to check, you never know…

You pull out a flat, brown thing, with some notes barely visible within its folds, and you grin, showing off bloody, slightly chipped teeth to anyone who cared to look. The dumb bastard forgot to take his wallet back!

"Oi! You there!"

Your jubilation is interrupted by the sound of a voice belonging to a 140-year-old, which is impressive, considering its owner isn't a day older than seventy. A grizzled old… person, dressed in mostly rags, sitting cross-legged on the pavement across the road is staring at you quite intently.

Now, were it not for the fact that, a) they weren't there ten seconds ago, you don't think, and b) people past 50 are a rarity around here, you probably wouldn't have taken notice of them.

You seriously look them over as best you can through the eye that isn't rapidly swelling shut and find them unreadable. They don't seem to be overly concerned looking, nor do they seem to be malicious, per se…

"The fuck you want?" You shout across the road.

… It's pretty neutral, by your normal standards. Downright diplomatic, really.

"C'm'over here. I just wanna talk, that's all!" They shout back.

That doesn't mollify your suspicions much. Still, you hesitate, standing there instead of just fucking off, choosing to mull your options over instead.

Ok, first, we have to nip that error thing in the bud.

[] State your full name for the record, please.

[] A picture of yourself? Or a description, at least. Pretty please?

[] Any distinguishing birthmarks?
-[] A big star-shaped one on your shoulder. (This does limit your name options somewhat, for obvious reasons.) (Gain Trait, "Nine. Or Seven. Who's Counting?")
-[] Uh, those three moles on your left ear, you guess? You… yeah, you'd call that a birthmark. (Gain trait "Luck Of The Devil.")


Now what?

[] Approach Them- they look like 150! What are they gonna do, have a heart attack on you? You'll be fine. Limp on over there and listen to them. Besides, you don't get to that age around here by not being able to hurt someone who disrespects you like that.

[] Nopenopenope- mmmmmmmmmnope, you know this song and dance way too well. First it's come over here, then it's "Do you want some candy-" ok, ok, all jokes aside, you straight up just don't trust this... person. Go. Leave. Bugger off. Don't give them the time of day.

[] Stay Still- Well, you could just stay where you are and have a shouting conversation with them. You can't really be arsed limping in either direction right now.

[] Write-In