A Rat's Guide to Glory
- Thread starter Naron
- Start date
MiracleGrow
Miracles for only $19.99 [They/Them]
- Location
- DOOR STUCK DOOR STUCK PLEASE I BEG U
I think it follows the 'The Head asks to be paid in tax with this so its the standard.'
Given what we know, I think it probably follows the heart standard, or the kidney, or the lung.
kaillll
Judgment Upon You
Gold likely doesn't worth anything in the city, Because, you know, the possibility of a singularity making infinite materials just because is high enough.
I think the real hard currency around the city is singularity products (Like stored time, Enkephalin, KCorp Nanomachine package) or drugs or Weapons/ Armor /Augmentation.
Things that directly give you power in the city or things everybody needs to survive is very valuable, unlike a bar of metal that someone just take from your corpses.
I think the real hard currency around the city is singularity products (Like stored time, Enkephalin, KCorp Nanomachine package) or drugs or Weapons/ Armor /Augmentation.
Things that directly give you power in the city or things everybody needs to survive is very valuable, unlike a bar of metal that someone just take from your corpses.
- Location
- Earth
Out of curiousity, where do you take that from?
Yes, three strikes and Ciel is out. There is no coming back from that.
At the same time, taxes are done automatically. Ciel will always save up enough money to pay them and voting to spend that money on anything else would be an instant veto in anything except the most unusual circumstances.
Rat 3 - Money Often Costs Too Much
- Location
- Earth
Your treasure is golden.
A bright gold the likes of which one just does not see in the Backstreets. You found it in an alley one day, left behind by whomever once owned it. Maybe it used to be a Nest-dweller's handkerchief, perhaps it was part of some gaudy Fixer's outfit. You have no idea and you never cared. It is yours now.
Your pack understood not to touch this. The changing members may have needed a reminder or two, but there was an unspoken sort of respect between everyone. Not to mention you were one of the oldest members, together with Arin and Mu. No matter how many Rats you lost over the years, those two were always with you. You ran together, fought together, survived together. You laughed and ate and drank, as a pack should.
It was them that you first opened up about your dream to, the day after meeting the Purple Tear. Of course they gave you shit for it, a Rat with a dream is ridiculous after all. And yet you caught them saving up where they could; a coin here, a bill there. You like to count the money, so they must have known it was only a matter of time. They did it anyway, a small nest-egg that was not touched over the years, no matter how bad things got. They did not even let you use it for the pack during hard times.
You always thought it was Arin's idea; that one was too nice for their own good. Mu just went along with it, maybe she had some idea about becoming Fixers together after you began. She never said. Maybe you should have asked when you had the chance.
Tonight, that little piece of cloth is your only solace.
You have it clutched to your face, wetted by a single tear. Crying is something you rarely do, much like all the rest. Children cry until they realise nobody cares. There is nothing gained by it, nobody will take pity on you. You kept it together until night fell, when all pretenses of civility were gone; no Rat stays outside after dark for no reason.
So now you are alone with your thoughts, thinking back to today's awful events. Where you would normally lie tangled in a pile of bodies, cuddled together for warmth, it is just you tonight. Only a thin blanket to spend warmth, normally unneeded. There is no pack anymore, only you. The occasional scream from outside remains unheard in your ennui as you weep. No more tears flow past the first one, for any who could shed that many would be long ground down by the Backstreets. Just this once you do not care for staining your treasure.
Losing some Rats is nothing new. It happens all the time, really. You should stop lamenting now, this is no different from seeing all-new faces after every year. No different from going from twelve to three and back up to nine in the span of weeks.
But you can not lie to yourself: this is different. There are Mu- and Arin-shaped holes in your heart. For the first time in years, you curse the Purple Tear for showing you proper colours; it would not hurt so bad if you were still in that haze. You could laugh it off and find another pack to join. The fat stack of bills on the table would see you welcomed with open arms... that, or jumped and disemboweled in short order. Right now you are not sure if you would even care if the latter happened.
That money was supposed to be split; most goes into the pack's collective pocket for rent and taxes, the rest evenly to everyone for food and whatever other knick-knacks they were interested in. Usually more food.
Now it is just you this belongs to. One of the organs you nabbed was augmented, a stroke of luck that got you a little extra. Everyone else no longer need to pay taxes either. This is more money in one place than you ever saw, but it still does not make you happy.
You can finally start following your dream. Yet right now, you would give it up if that only brought back your pack. The things you made yourself do keep you queasy, shuddering under the thin blanket.
The mechanical and precise pitter patter of Sweepers sounds faintly through the walls, announcing the Night in the Backstreets. They do not speak in any tongue you understand, but the days where you put an ear to the wall are long over. You do not truly register their presence, even. Wet smacks and the sizzle of dissolving flesh are a familiar backdrop to your waking nights.
You can buy a Fixer license with that money. Adding your nest-egg to it, you can even buy something useful to get started with. A proper weapon from a Workshop, or some small augment. Hell, if you wanted you could sell your own body to buy a mechanical one; you might even do it just so the pain in your chest passes, were you not so revulsed by the idea alone. Humans should be humans, not machines.
Maybe if you did something different today. But what could you have done, really? You did not stand a chance. Everyone is dead and only you were lucky enough to survive.
If it were not for...
[] Zwei Association
(A Fixer Association that focusses on policing area they are paid to protect, keeping it free from crime and undesirables. They take their motto quite seriously: "Your Shield". Zwei Fixers are organised, numerous, and known to carry massive greatswords into battle)
[] The Thorns
(A somewhat new Syndicate that started growing in District 9. They do not have an official rating by Hana Association yet, but the shoulder spikes each member wears are quite indicative.)
[] An Index Proselyte
(Of the five Fingers, the great Syndicates grasping the City's Backstreets, the Index is a cult. They follow the will of Prescripts, abitrary instructions delivered per messenger to their recipients. Somehow, following these instructions always turns out well for the Index.)
[] write-in
As of right now, there is a character sheet on the front page. Apologies for taking so long, but I wanted to finish a decent-ish portrait beforehand, which needed the colour votes first.
A bright gold the likes of which one just does not see in the Backstreets. You found it in an alley one day, left behind by whomever once owned it. Maybe it used to be a Nest-dweller's handkerchief, perhaps it was part of some gaudy Fixer's outfit. You have no idea and you never cared. It is yours now.
Your pack understood not to touch this. The changing members may have needed a reminder or two, but there was an unspoken sort of respect between everyone. Not to mention you were one of the oldest members, together with Arin and Mu. No matter how many Rats you lost over the years, those two were always with you. You ran together, fought together, survived together. You laughed and ate and drank, as a pack should.
It was them that you first opened up about your dream to, the day after meeting the Purple Tear. Of course they gave you shit for it, a Rat with a dream is ridiculous after all. And yet you caught them saving up where they could; a coin here, a bill there. You like to count the money, so they must have known it was only a matter of time. They did it anyway, a small nest-egg that was not touched over the years, no matter how bad things got. They did not even let you use it for the pack during hard times.
You always thought it was Arin's idea; that one was too nice for their own good. Mu just went along with it, maybe she had some idea about becoming Fixers together after you began. She never said. Maybe you should have asked when you had the chance.
Tonight, that little piece of cloth is your only solace.
You have it clutched to your face, wetted by a single tear. Crying is something you rarely do, much like all the rest. Children cry until they realise nobody cares. There is nothing gained by it, nobody will take pity on you. You kept it together until night fell, when all pretenses of civility were gone; no Rat stays outside after dark for no reason.
So now you are alone with your thoughts, thinking back to today's awful events. Where you would normally lie tangled in a pile of bodies, cuddled together for warmth, it is just you tonight. Only a thin blanket to spend warmth, normally unneeded. There is no pack anymore, only you. The occasional scream from outside remains unheard in your ennui as you weep. No more tears flow past the first one, for any who could shed that many would be long ground down by the Backstreets. Just this once you do not care for staining your treasure.
Losing some Rats is nothing new. It happens all the time, really. You should stop lamenting now, this is no different from seeing all-new faces after every year. No different from going from twelve to three and back up to nine in the span of weeks.
But you can not lie to yourself: this is different. There are Mu- and Arin-shaped holes in your heart. For the first time in years, you curse the Purple Tear for showing you proper colours; it would not hurt so bad if you were still in that haze. You could laugh it off and find another pack to join. The fat stack of bills on the table would see you welcomed with open arms... that, or jumped and disemboweled in short order. Right now you are not sure if you would even care if the latter happened.
That money was supposed to be split; most goes into the pack's collective pocket for rent and taxes, the rest evenly to everyone for food and whatever other knick-knacks they were interested in. Usually more food.
Now it is just you this belongs to. One of the organs you nabbed was augmented, a stroke of luck that got you a little extra. Everyone else no longer need to pay taxes either. This is more money in one place than you ever saw, but it still does not make you happy.
You can finally start following your dream. Yet right now, you would give it up if that only brought back your pack. The things you made yourself do keep you queasy, shuddering under the thin blanket.
The mechanical and precise pitter patter of Sweepers sounds faintly through the walls, announcing the Night in the Backstreets. They do not speak in any tongue you understand, but the days where you put an ear to the wall are long over. You do not truly register their presence, even. Wet smacks and the sizzle of dissolving flesh are a familiar backdrop to your waking nights.
You can buy a Fixer license with that money. Adding your nest-egg to it, you can even buy something useful to get started with. A proper weapon from a Workshop, or some small augment. Hell, if you wanted you could sell your own body to buy a mechanical one; you might even do it just so the pain in your chest passes, were you not so revulsed by the idea alone. Humans should be humans, not machines.
Maybe if you did something different today. But what could you have done, really? You did not stand a chance. Everyone is dead and only you were lucky enough to survive.
If it were not for...
[] Zwei Association
(A Fixer Association that focusses on policing area they are paid to protect, keeping it free from crime and undesirables. They take their motto quite seriously: "Your Shield". Zwei Fixers are organised, numerous, and known to carry massive greatswords into battle)
[] The Thorns
(A somewhat new Syndicate that started growing in District 9. They do not have an official rating by Hana Association yet, but the shoulder spikes each member wears are quite indicative.)
[] An Index Proselyte
(Of the five Fingers, the great Syndicates grasping the City's Backstreets, the Index is a cult. They follow the will of Prescripts, abitrary instructions delivered per messenger to their recipients. Somehow, following these instructions always turns out well for the Index.)
[] write-in
As of right now, there is a character sheet on the front page. Apologies for taking so long, but I wanted to finish a decent-ish portrait beforehand, which needed the colour votes first.
- Location
- France
[X] Zwei Association
What's mine is mine
and mine and mine.
And mine and mine and mine!
NOT YOURS!
*Make plans on how to get them killed*
Well, seems like I didn't need to bother, the world decided to give us a tragic backstory all on it's own!
Let's be honest, it probably would be both, in that order even.
As shown by the first guys in LoR with full body replacement, cheap bodies are very much not worth it, no going for that option until we can afford the top of the line.
Years before LoR.
So we can choose who killed our friends, Zwei associations will do interesting things to our dream, probably make us rivals, thorns will probably see us begins a vendetta, index… I am interested, because it means the prescripts are responsible in one way or another, it also gives us a long term and short term ennemy, the proselyte short term, the index itself long term, this is the most ambitious and the most dangerous choice:
[x] An Index Proselyte
Of course I am going to jump on it!
questioningmeme
Just be yourself
- Location
- River of Light
5 years before the end of Lobotomy Corporation.
[x] An Index Proselyte
Team Index!
- Location
- Moscow, Russia
Hm...
[X] Black silence. A color of death, leaving silence in the wake of his hunt. They weren't even the target, they weren't used as shields, distractions or anything similar. Some metal monstrosities were fighting the legend and the backslash from their attacks destroyed everything around them. It was not a malicious intent, retaliation for their crimes, precaution in elimination of rising gang of rats. It just happened. They could have died any moment, any day really, there's no conspiracy or weight to the deaths your friends. So this is it and that's that.
[X] Black silence. A color of death, leaving silence in the wake of his hunt. They weren't even the target, they weren't used as shields, distractions or anything similar. Some metal monstrosities were fighting the legend and the backslash from their attacks destroyed everything around them. It was not a malicious intent, retaliation for their crimes, precaution in elimination of rising gang of rats. It just happened. They could have died any moment, any day really, there's no conspiracy or weight to the deaths your friends. So this is it and that's that.
Just remember: this is who killed our friends, not who we join.
questioningmeme
Just be yourself
- Location
- River of Light
Team Index rules! Rats drools! Of course, I would vote for it.
Edit: By the way, we look like Yoshikage Kira.
Edit: By the way, we look like Yoshikage Kira.
Too pessimistic, we have a dream, don't want to get rid of it, pass.
Just making sure given how the post was phrased.
kaillll
Judgment Upon You
*Strapping a bomb onto a model car*
questioningmeme
Just be yourself
- Location
- River of Light
Given that Team Rainbow was defeated earlier, it's time for Team Index's counterattack!
If it's the Index. The trauma will be great!
If it's the Index. The trauma will be great!
- Location
- Moscow, Russia
It's actually a little gun, placed on a wall, that will help us later. ✧(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧
If anyone remember, one of reasons that brought together the reverberation assembly, was Roro. So, I am aiming big. I doubt that our mc will be one of the leaders, but it will be an additional weight to its character.
[X] Black silence. A color of death, leaving silence in the wake of his hunt. They weren't even the target, they weren't used as shields, distractions or anything similar. Some metal monstrosities were fighting the legend and the backslash from their attacks destroyed everything around them. It was not a malicious intent, retaliation for their crimes, precaution in elimination of rising gang of rats. It just happened. They could have died any moment, any day really, there's no conspiracy or weight to the deaths your friends. So this is it and that's that.
Gun and Powder
Tax Evader the Arknight Operator
- Location
- W.Corp Train
- Pronouns
- He/They
Doubtful since Ciel seems not too fond of the idea.
[X] An Index Proselyte