The City is a gruesome place.
It is an abhorrent thing. This is where people are born by the hundreds of thousands,
die by the millions, their insignificant lives gasping for a single breath and are snuffed out in the same.
You don't choose how you will die. All you
do know is that you're going to die either today or tomorrow.
And god do you hope it's tomorrow.
All you
can do is to devote yourself within the cogs that grind you and the others down to pieces, the grand machine where the people are fuel and
The City is its maker. An eternal cycle where there are only two things you can do: work to gain money and spend the money you gained to survive for another day. It's the only thing you can do. Learned to do. The only way everyone around you who had a shred of kindness in their hearts told you to do: Survive.
And that's what you do. In
The City where lives are a fraction of a Ahn. Where the faces come and go, they blur in your head from the first day you meet them grinning, frowning, laughing, crying - to the next
hour as they lay upon the streets, their entrails spilled out onto the concrete ground as greedy hands, just like yours, grab inside their fleshy cavities and dig for more.
Because the organs their bodies keep are more valuable than the living person they once were. In
The City, you are not valued for your talent. But the bodies you can give, the people you push into the line of fire until you, yourself remain.
But at least it's better here in
The City where a semblance of peace is guaranteed. Where the only monsters are humans who can have a reason behind their motives within the bloodthirsty chaos. Where there is order within the madness. Where there can be a minute of silence late at night that you lean your head against the wall and think to yourself, shaking and shivering:
Was it all worth it?
That is a luxury you can afford in
The City, not in the
Outskirts. Better here, than out there.
Here is the story: You are a 'Feather' from the snapped off, fallen Wing of
L Corp.
A once great Wing, so indomitable that it seemed like it couldn't fall. A Corporation so great, so grand, it encompassed a whole district, an area that stretches for thousands of acres. Like feudal lords and their kingdoms. They mold and shape the culture of a District as the District that once raised the fledgling company into a great Corporation shaped it until the two are indistinguishable from each other. Feeding onto each other into a great ugly cycle that the
Head, the triumvirate alliance between three of the most powerful Corporations, oversees and administers.
How could anyone expect you of all people to be a feather? You weren't born into becoming one, a privileged person who had the luck to be born in a Nest, a luxurious area that the Corps would care for and safeguarded from the savage nature of mankind.
You had the fortune to be related to a true Feather. A person worthy to have a Corporation gaze upon them. Your older brother. It was your big brother who dug and clawed his way with sweat, blood, and
bodies to be employed by
L Corp. They chose him of all people, from all sorts of other privileged Feathers, dirty gifted Backstreets trash, and nameless fucking
Rats. They chose him.
And your older brother gave it all, signed up for a contract where he stepped into the main branch of
L Corp and never walked out, in exchange for
you to live comfortably. For an apartment where all utilities are paid for, and a cushy budget to spend and splurge if you wanted to stretch your toes out for. Not too much, of course. But enough for you to
breathe.
You once lived in the Nest, the Nest of
L Corp.
Lobotomy Corporation. And you were there, near the epicenter when the
White Nights and Dark Days happened. When the great and colossal Wing fell and a glorious pillar of
Light shot out from its remains. Like a bird cracking out from its hollow shell. It was a sight too beautiful, too indescriable, you would get choked up in tears remembering the sheer warmth. But such a holy sight cannot last forever. Especially in
The City. When the
Light died on the 4th day, you were there when the whole world around you went
mad.
You survived in the end. Your brother, however, his fate is unknown. The man is most likely dead. Just like the other employees of the Main Branch facility of
L Corp.
Now a feather no-longer and a soon-to-be body amongst bodies that will pile to reach the skies just like District 9. It was like fate was ticking down against you but somehow... through some indeterminate force, you managed to survive.
With no safety net to catch you, there was a burning desperation inside of you, a primal fear that warped and shaped each of your actions. Begging you to take any advantage, steal any chance to get ahead. And then burning down every bridge and building a new one to burn it again just so you can wake up the next day. Again and again in an endless cycle. Until somehow, you found yourself one night thinking, weary and exhausted after one bang up job: something's gotta give, something has to change. You need to change. You need to do more than just
Survive.
It's all you've been doing since the incident. Four years of surviving.
So here comes the question.
[X][Fixer]
The well-trodden path people in
The City often fall onto.
A mercenary who will do and can do everything for a price. And the price is the blood that keeps
The City running: Ahn. Whether it's from the mundane such as finding lost pets on the street and being a general handyman on call to the more exotic - exterminating a plague of mutated blood rats in the sewers to finding the cause behind the disappeared Feathers from
Nest K. It's dangerous work. Blood and bodies are on the table and you intend to make sure it's not yours buried in an unmarked grave.
If there is a job you can do, you can take it. And any bit of Ahn counts to stop the
Head knocking on your door and your stomach filled with a grain of rice.
Pros:
[Start out with Average Sanity]
[Established at a Fixer's Office of Choice]
[Average Amount of Combat Experience]
[Average Amount of Personal Time]
Cons:
[Low Funds]
[Low Quality of Living]
[Nobody of any Renown]
[X][Syndicate Member]
Morals aren't necessary for a better life, and you
need to survive.
You're a criminal and you're proud of it. Rules are not tangible things and they don't apply to you, well... just as long as you avoid stepping on the toes of a few important people and skim under the radar then you're alright. Yet the world of crime, the shady and unknown, is a whole new world of opportunity. Possibilities that weren't open to you before if you played 'nice', and all of that is for you to plunder. And you intend to reap the harvest from many and profit as quick as you can, even pulling up the ladder that you once climbed to secure your position. While you're not a part of the main five syndicates, instead you follow a subsidiary gang of one. You're still among the grunts, not taking any higher position than one would expect in your shoes.
You do dirty work, you knock on a couple doors and shake down people for racketeering, and for some people who think this is their time to have a moment of glory, you snuff them out and sell the spoils. It's not glorious work, far from it, and you have yet to feel something less than regret. But at least it isn't you facedown in a pool of your own blood, and it's enough money to pay the rent and keep your head down. Membership is lifetime and you've made your vows at initiation. Just expect to be busy and to wash your bloodstained clothes every week.
Pros:
[High Funds]
[High Amount of Combat Experience]
[Established at a Syndicate of Choice]
[Known Reputation]
Cons:
[Start out with Slightly-Low Sanity]
[Gain a Debilitating Detriment (Roll 1d6)]
[Little to No Amount of Personal Time]
[X][Rat]
You fell from grace and you fell from it
hard.
You were worse than dirt. Lower than trash. The absolute bottom of the totem pole and people knew it.
You had to do everything to survive, even if it meant backstabbing your closest comrade when rent was getting tight. And in your line of work where you had nothing, people had
everything. And you intended to exploit them for the fact.
Especially for the valuable organs their bodies contained. They were walking currency to you. Each body is an opportunity and a risk. And it's enough to feed you for a week and pay the Head's monthly tax.
You were the shadow that haunted the streets, the rats that scurried in the alleyways, the target of fearful and paranoid eyes that searched for an inkling of your presence, the terror of the streets, all of that was you. You were the ghost that stayed your hand onto a shoddy knife, the trash that people would whisper and point at, the biting and nibbling scavengers that feasted onto the already looted and dead, the dredges of society that people would use as the bottom benchmark, glad they aren't
you.
And just like rats. You had other rats by your side to build some semblance of comradery. But that can only go so far when they are willing to put you on the chopping block the next day. And with each life you take, that sense of shame inside of you grows and grows until you choke on it. There was no other choice.
Pros:
[Established as a Leader of a Pack of Rats]
[Low Amount of Combat Experience]
[High Amount of Personal Time]
Cons:
[Zero Funds]
[Start out with Low Sanity]
[Gain a Debilitating Detriment (Roll 1d6)]
[You're Scum of the Earth]
For every potential and upcoming star, there is something about them that makes them stand out. A certain type of trait.
[X]Fortitude: People might as well call you superhuman. You're strong as fuck, tough as shit, and sturdy as all hell. There's something within your biology that makes it so you can take punishment and deal it out twice-fold, and hell, you don't seem to run out of energy. Congrats, you're mighty favored by the whatever deity above because you're
Peak superhuman.
[X]Prudence: Lookie here of who won the lottery. You've got the brains that many jealous parents would whisper and point at, wondering why their kid isn't as smart as
you. Information and data is like water to you, you can absorb and comprehend all sorts of things like a sponge. If this was regular Earth, you would already be on a full-ride scholarship to an Ivy League school and graduate several years early. Yet this isn't, and somehow your talent managed to be overlooked. For what reason? You don't know. Either way, you're a budding genius with the potential to become a
true Feather.
[X]Temperance: Somehow in
The City, you managed to not lose your sense of Empathy. You're a social linguist, a speaker of tongues, a true maître du peuple. You can navigate sticky situations around strangers, charm up a belligerent Syndicate Member and get them dancing under your tune with the right smile and choice set of words. Yet with such a skill comes with an equally as heavy heart. Not that you would abuse your social skills, no sir. The thought pains you. It's not your fault that you're just so
charming.
[X]Justice: You were known for your stubbornness. Your sheer willpower. When you have a goal, you have a
goal. Period. You become fixated onto your championed goal, obsessive and paranoid. You dream about it at night, thinking about how to achieve that goal at every ticking second you're both awake and unconscious. You demand to be pushed to the very brink until it's completed. People might call you insane, but you know what you are, what you're capable of. You're a person destined for great things, and you know
it. Nothing beyond a god can stop you from achieving your dreams.
Nothing.
And because of that trait, you suffer from a deficit. All things come with a cost, and this is another one.
[X]Fortitude: You're squishy. Strange in the line of work you're in but you can't take a few hits. You'd crumble with a punch. Heck, you run out of breath easily and have to force yourself beyond the limits every day to work and it sucks. Only the vices of
The City can keep you moving. God knows
why you're not improving the way you should.
[X]Prudence: Smarts are not one thing you're known for. Books, research reports, hell anything longer than a paragraph and you won't get it. It's not your fault that you were born the way you were. It's hard to grasp fancy-schmancy things like 'non-contextual problems' or 'material emancipation grid'. Whatever, you leave it to the bigger brained people for the thinking. There's always a reason why people hire them. It's not
that important anyways.
[X]Temperance: People can sense that you're off. Not from the way you talk but how you look at them, how you act. And you can agree, people in your view are lesser. Stranger. Like objects but with more complexities and variables. You don't
get them. For the better or the worst.
[X]Justice: It's easy to fake being strong, and you know that. And you crumble so easily under pressure, anyone could in your position! Well not exactly everyone. But in a tough situation, you're the first to fold and scurry away. But hey, at least you're
alive.
And from flaws, comes a deadly
sin. What colors do you dream? What crime have you committed that haunts you in the past? What
sin do you fall prey to the most?
[X]Wrath: Red. All consuming red, the color painting the walls, the floors, your face. It's all you can see, all you can feel. You were always so short-tempered in your youth. People feared you, rightfully so. Though you have outgrown those childish times, the blood still seeps down from your fingers, that potent anger, never dormant, writhes underneath your skin, boiling and crackling. When you snap, you
snap.
[X]Lust: Orange. Like the burnished color of human flesh, like the burning fire within your gut that will never be quenched. You were not known for your lust in the human flesh, but you have a desire that itches deep within your soul. An unquenchable thirst that demands to be satiated. It's a primal instinct. You
craved. You were a hedonistic creature, tempered by your restraint from
The City's demands, but when you desired - it's a fickle thing that can become an addiction. It goes to show if you can consume it or be subsumed into your vices.
[X]Sloth: Yellow. Within silken sheets and the daze of a morning sun. It's so easy for you to stop your routine, to drop your chores and fall down into the arms of your siren singing bed. You were meant to be stuck in place, watching the world pass you by while you remain the same. A creature of passivity, a self-made victim waiting for a savior to come down and sweep away your troubles. You're just an unfortunate sack of
waste.
[X]Gluttony: Green. In the verdant fields, a snake gnaws and feasts upon its own flesh, voracious and unable to sedate its bottomless appetite. And you were the epitome of indulgence, unable to control your habitual wants, your rapturous edacity. To it, you cannot fathom to exist in a reality where you
lacked. The thought was incredulous, a hellscape to you. You have to have more, you
need to get more, more and more. The numbers grow - food, drink, Ahn, resources, until the digits blur, until you cannot distinguish them from the paper altogether. You are an endless void, seeking to fill an ravenous desire that cannot be filled. And when the hunger begins, it never ends.
[X]Gloom:
Light Blue. Like water, like Waves of the Great Lake, ever-changing yet the essence remains the same. And in it, you drowned. Constantly in the deep, tied to the bottom and unable to gasp for a single breath of oxygen. The cloud loomed over you at every waking moment. You were misery incarnate, self-loathing and in terror of yourself.
You are your own monster. And for that: guilt runs deep in your veins, yet you survive. But at what cost?
[X]Pride: Dark Blue. If there was one attribute a person could name you, it would be arrogance. It's embedded into your DNA, you were created and sculpted by the very best. Like of conquerors and kings, you were painted a fine shade of Royal Blue as your mantle, so perfect that the peasants below would demand it as your only flaw. You have ground
blood,
sweat, and
dust into your veins, polishing your skills to the height of perfection. And you never let an insult let you lie down, you would rip out their very hearts if they thought to lower your great august self to
their level.
[X]Envy: Purple. You were a purple-eyed beast whose teeth gnashed and gnawed in the shadows, starving for the limelight. It was not your fault you weren't born with a silver spoon and a gold crown upon your head. The Gods of
This City have sought to find other people in their grace than you. You were a byproduct of their creations and you knew it. And for that, you envied like a pathetic mutt forgotten in the sewers, begging for the slightest bit of attention from the light before you lunged for their throat. You were the dog that bit the hand that feeds them. An undeserving worm that hates and
hates and
hates- Yet in a strange contradiction, you follow their footsteps, whining for the eyes of your betters to
look at you, shadowing their figure in a strange torturous cycle of love and hate because deep down, you want to
be them, to become every bit of them and surpass them. You thrive for the spotlight yet you shun the attention.
Don't Vote until all Reserved Posts have been posted.
QM's Note: Hello! This is my first quest and I've always wanted to do one, especially a 'Project Moon' quest! I wasn't sure how until I've read a couple of quests that inspired me so I think I got a gist of what I'm doing even though it's through heavy lurking and not much if any interaction. Though I appreciate any criticism for the way I do stuff and quests just to make sure everything is coherent and consistent.
A lot of this is directly inspired from
Tinker of the City,
Spark of Light, and
Palace of Greed, El Dorado. And some others quests not named but that I very much appreciate! Thank you to the authors/QMs/GMs/DMs who wrote and gave the audience a beautiful and narratively gripping story!
I'm still tinkering around with this current system in order to understand it and better integrate it into writing. Much of it half baked to be honest. Some that were directly referenced from the quests mentioned above and I give credit towards with some that I'm still trying to figure out. Especially the combat and stat system to calculate so it'll take me a while to get used to it. Hopefully not many hiccups pop up as I write and plot out skills, combat skills, storylines and etc.
Things to Note on How to Vote:
Please Vote by Plan Format
Example:
[X]Plan: 'Insert Name'
- [X] Action Part 1
-- [X] Action Part 1 Extra Info
- [X] Action Part 2
-- [X] Action Part 2 Extra Info
- [X] Action Part 3
-- [X] Action Part 3 Extra Info
Detailed Example:
[X]Plan: Grass grows, birds fly, sun shines, and brotha' I hurt people
- [X] Rat
- [X] Justice
- [X] Prudence
- [X] Pride
More Character Creation will come soon after, I just want to get essentials down to help get a better understanding. And also of what plotlines and storylines to help engineer to work with the character created. (Much of which is still a WIP and some that requires research. I have to buy a few books to reference other literature yippee)
And uhhhh the start of the quest takes place a few years after the events of 'Lobotomy Corporation' and a few months before the events of 'Library of Ruina' start.
Vote will probably be open for around 3-4 days as I finish procrastinating and get back to working on my last bits of college assignments and studying for my last final hehe.
![Crave the Light [Project Moon Quest]](/data/threadmark-index-icons/l/80/80012.jpg?1734308782){kind=icon}
Slash: Normal [x1.5] - [0.5] = [x1.0]
Pierce: Weak [x2.0] - [0.5] = [x1.5] 
Blunt: Weak [x1.5]
Burn
Bleed
Tremor
Tremor Burst
Rupture
Poise
Sinking
Gloom-affinity damage to Abnormalities) Then, reduce its Count by 1.
Charge
Attack Power Down
