Interested pending timeslot.

I am VERRY interested. I am on Hawaii time, but I work late afternoons (when most of the mainland is sound asleep in their beds) so nearly any time works for me, just as long as it isn't too early in the morning (a 10:AM game in New York would be a 4am game here.) As for character ideas, I've got a social/psychologist character concept that's been bouncing around my head for a while. I'd be happy to expound upon it in further detail if you are interested in having me for your game.

Late afternoon/early-evening start, Pacific Time, Wednesday would be best but Monday is a possible. I basically can't guarantee my time before 7pm on Monday, but on Wednesday most weeks (and I will have advance warning) I can. Friday is unfortunately not an option for me. I like the idea of using the MUSH. It means we can (1) hang around when things aren't actively happening and discuss stuff IC, (2) possibly involve other players as NPCs if they're interested or even as other occasionally involved PCs. In short, it provides a great deal of flexibility. And having a game running on it will no doubt help them in terms of giving them a bit of a boost as they try to get the place up and running. I'm looking at a Barsoomian old-timer neo-Gorilla Mechanic/Tech with ties to Valley of the Apes. Would most likely know Victor through both Victor's Barsoomian and Uplift Rights activism. Possibly helped him get the connections the ape needed to work off the last of his indenture? I'm sort of considering what happens when you tie the 'old prospector' trope with the idea of nomad marsforming mechanics. Less 'pack mule and shovel', more 'rigger, driller and mech'. Working class silverback with some clean ties and some sleazy ties...Like any 'freed' uplift, caught in the middle, not really a part of the established system but not necessarily trusted by those outside of it, either.

I have MushClient, and I verry much like the idea. I have mudded and mushed quite a bit in my day. Fun times. Wednesday works, just let it be noted that I have to be out the door by 5:15 PM hawaii time on wednesdays.

Those times on Wednesday work perfect for me if you're still looking for another player. I'm Central time too.

Ok cool, I'll get this idea going fleshed out and get it posted!

I'll actually be loitering around on the MUSH tomorrow evening about that time, if anyone pops on, to discuss characters, etc.

Greenpotato wrote:

I've never used a MUSH before and I just signed in and can't figure out how to do anything.

Well, look for me on there tomorrow afternoon/evening and I'll help out. Some simple stuff you can type in include: help and then help @desc will give you an idea as far as describing yourself. Think of it like an oldschool text adventure game except one you can build in, by writing, creating objects, and putting descriptions on them. You can look at things, move around, etc.

Greenpotato wrote:

I think my interfacing skill is just too low to use this MUSH thing. I'm gonna have to pull out. Thanks anyway.

Naw man, it's so easy, a Jovian Flat could do it. Google "Mush client." Besides, you can't drop out, we need SOMEBODY who can kick ass and take names, and it's probably not going to be the social scientist XD or the Hardware Tech.

It's okay dude, if you have AIM or MSN or something like that, I'm sure the GM or someone else would be happy to walk you through it. Besides, having character descriptions and stats in the mush itself isn't as important as the GM knowing your stats and description. As I understand it, we're mostly using it as a chatroom that happens to be devoted to EP and happens to have a dice-roller (correct me if I'm wrong.) Finishing the MUSH's character builder is really tertiary.

Alright, so here's kind of what I'm thinking. Grover's in his mid 20s. He's kind of a reluctant Barsoomian freedom fighter, a concept he's starting to warm up to. He specializes in demolitions and explosives of all sorts, using what he knows from his past working for different terraforming hypercorps. All he really knows is Mars, he was born there and, as far as he can tell, he'll probably die there. --A little background-- Grover's a born and bred Martian. He's worked as a laborer for the various terraforming projects almost all his life, just like his parents and sister did. He left them a few years back to try to move on to bigger and better things. That didn't get him very far though. All he ended up doing was the same thing he'd always done, working labor for the corps. He eventually got tired of it all and tried making off with some stolen tech to sell for enough to get him offworld. He was caught by a security patrol who confiscated the tech and started calling him "one of those Barsoomian terrorists." Now he just laughs at the irony. Those "terrorists" are ones that got him out of that interrogation room in one piece. So for the last couple years Grover's been working with, or for, the Barsoomians, he can't really figure out which it is. He figures he owes them something at the very least and will fully admit that he would be in a far worse place if they hadn't shown up when they did. The Barsoomian movement's been slowly growing on Grover since he got involved with them and he starting to think that maybe this is the "bigger and better" thing he was looking for. I'm guessing Victor would have most likely been amoung his rescuers and that's how he knows him. Grover probably would maintain a good amount of contact with him since he feels like he owes Victor his life, or at least his freedom. Edit: Added a little

Great, can't wait to play. In the mean time here is my concept. Before the Fall Anthony made his living as a soldier of fortune, fighting in the various conflicts that sprung up across Earth during it's tumultuous last days. Though he died during the fall, it didn't keep and soon he found himself back in a new human body in unfamiliar habitat floating through deep space. The men responsible had brought him, and a number of famous and notorious warriors back in order to begin a new society in the far reaches of space, away from the rest of the decadent trans humanists. A spartan collective, tiny and highly regimented, yet the only cost of being resleeved was remaining a citizen for at least 4 years. During those 4 years the warriors of the past were trained, drilled and educated by the collectives leaders. At the end of his 4 years he was given a choice, he could leave and go out into the world or remain here for another 4 years. Anthony settled on the former, and was sent out to Mars with a gun and a void suit and nothing else to his name. They only gave him one condition, that some day they might call upon him again when the time was right On Mars he reestablished contact with people he had never expected to see again, old friends and even a few enemies from his days as a mercenary. The fresh knowledge from his days in the collective combined with the fury morph they had granted him for displaying excellence in his training made his entry into the mercenary business easier the second time around. He made a name for himself, following the money from job to job. He did everything from training barsoomian terrorist cells to running security to protect against those same terrorists. Mars was a hotbed of activity, and someone who carried a gun and knew how to use it was always in demand. He's a warrior poet in a very real sense, he'll expand your mind or blow it out the back of your skull. He met Victor when working for him as a bodyguard, and continued to work as security in his uplift smuggling operations. For motivations I'm thinking, Wealth+ Fame- Vengeance+. I won't get into the reasons for each here. edit: You are not alone scummer, the whole mush thing confused me too at first but I persevered! You can do it!

To complicate matters, it seems the MUSH may be down. At least, I cannot connect, and I was logged in previously.

That's doable. Tyrnis, you around?

The MUSH is back up. Sorry about that, all!

I'll be away for a couple of days. If anyone cares :( I should be back for the next session though.

Greenpotato wrote:

I'll be away for a couple of days. If anyone cares :( I should be back for the next session though.

Well, when you get back, see if you can connect to the MUSH. If you have trouble, PM me here, and we'll get you sorted out so you can be there without trouble for the next meeting!

Mjorkk wrote:

Shit guys, I didn't think we'd have a session as early as the 28th. I hope there is still time for me to slither in. I was one of the first three to respond with interest *crosses fingers with hope* If there's Still Room, I present to you: Brother Crow

I'm pretty sure there's still room, we were hoping that you and Greenpotato would show up last night.So far as I am aware, you're still welcome/expected. Recommend you log into the MUSH so you are ready to roll for next week.

Is there still room?

So, I do have one question: where do we put our character sheets? Do we PM them to you? or are we going to try and somehow use the mud to track character abilities?

...And the background for the ook-ook. ========================== Clint C2972 is old, at least as far as Somatek neo-gorillas go. His serial number and overall aged appearance link him to the third batch of 'deployable, marketable' neo-gorillas...As opposed to the experimentals... But there are still distinct and noticeable differences between Clint and his successors. Clint was decanted on Earth, back in the glory days before the Fall. He remembers seeing open blue skies before they shipped him up into the black, packed him off to Mars to grind out his life turning that red rock green. At thirty-four years, he's already showing advanced signs of premature ageing. A neo-gorilla half his age will likely live twice as long before gaining the deeply wrinkled and silvered look of the earlier batch Clint came from. Clint spends a great deal of his time working out to maintain a physique appropriate to his aggressive, alpha-male nature, and is a non-competitive but fairly capable freerunner. Admittedly, he's cheated a bit. Cloned and implanted muscle tissue helps give the old ape the bulky figure he remembers from his glory days, and as an experimental adaptation of the process to an uplift, it didn't cost him as much as it might have otherwise. Still, genetics will tell. Clint has developed a rather noticeable beer gut despite the corded muscle in his limbs, and certainly his fixation on cheap cigars hasn't done much to aid his endurance despite nanitic assistance in his lungs. That cough? That's nothing. It'll go away. Someday. The bifocals? Yeah, replacement eyes are cheap. If your eyes are a nice, common, human model. But even if he found a good match, Clint fears losing the tweaks he was given when he proved himself to be a capable mechanic. If you're going to try and maintain a reputation as a good techie, it doesn't hurt to be able to see where electrical currents twist, break, or jump, and being able to keep a close watch on where you're laying a bead in a hurry makes for better welding. Besides. That look of old, leathery, silver-backed age and thick beveled glasses has a kind of authority, doesn't it? Especially for folks brought up seeing old documentation of pre-Fall scientists. Not that Clint's a scientist, of course. No, Clint's a hard-working, rough-handed engineer. The kind of fellow who helps keep those drills running and puts that little extra effort in to damp that vibration or jack down those grips to fit the height and hands of their owner, trying to make life a little bit easier on the others like him who've sweated away their receipts in the red dust. Old Mars-hands will remember him and others like him (most of whom are dead or dying now...genetics will tell) who were sold en masse to MDOT, doing the heavy, grueling work of keeping the big road-laying machines running as they ground their way across red desert. They built and rebuilt the huge machines on the move, racing against the fine, abrasive red dust that got into everything and sanded fittings down almost as fast as they could be replaced. Back in the days before humans learned it was cheaper to build machines that Mars wouldn't chew up and spit out in hours. Still others may tell of having met Clint in Mars orbit, where he and others like him repaired systems and worked with drill and charge to crack and sculpt the big icy asteroids into projectiles which met TTO spec, dug in and anchored the massive rockets that would send them spiraling down the well into the red globe below. A few will talk about Clint during the bad years...Which weren't so long ago...When a big gorilla with solid muscular bulk could earn some coin to buy down his indenture piece by piece, fighting with shock clubs or knives in the pits of Pembroke Gardens; building the dream one night at a time, trying to take the other guy down without killing him or maiming him too bad, because you never knew when it might be you on the sand, looking up with nothing between you and death but the crowd and the willingness of the other guy to feed their bloodlust. Medical bills for 'negligent injury' cut into an indenture something fierce, but the winnings on a good night could make up for it. Clint's past that now, but those who remember can still pick out the scars in his wrinkled face, remember the flash of fang and knife and the heavy pressure of the expectant crowd as prehensile feet hit the bloody, muddy red sand. Some who know him very well will talk about his buy-out party three years ago: the big, ugly lug crying as he tore up the printout of his paid-off indenture, while the few dozen who knew him cheered and the cheap beer flowed. Mostly apes, that night at the Broken Bit, because the Broken Bit was an indenture bar where primate riggers and miners drank away futures they'd already spent. A buy-out was big news in that crowd, and none of the crusty apes even bothered the human, Victor, who Clint dragged in with him for his celebration. Paid off the last payment, Clint had said, after Clint'd broken one leg falling off a drill-scaffold. Not because Clint couldn't have made it on his own a few months later, once it was healed. Clint was that kind of guy. But so Clint could get out on time, and be damned to the leg and the luck and the company doctors. But most folks...Most folks nowadays know Clint from the souks of Noctis. His battered, ancient rust-orange buggy-van with its neon-green wildscrawl signs ('Locksmith/Tinker: things fixed, ways opened') is usually located at one market or another during the week (those who know him well can usually predict where and when). Weekends he heads out into the red to do some private scavenging or on contract to fix one thing or another, doing a tour of outlying ecostations that are either independent or can't get their own corporate tech support to come in and fix their systems for a damn. Fridays he invariably turns up at the big Valley of the Apes movie night down southwest in Red Jakarta. Clint's a social animal, he is. Of course, there are always those who like to drag down the name of a fellow who's made his own way out of the creche. If he hangs out occasionally with Free Mars types, runaway uplifts, anarchists, smugglers and crooks, well who doesn't? And what scavenger and tinker ever could give a good accounting of where he found every bit and part he bought or sold? Clint buys and sells parts, working and not-so-working items of all kinds, from refurbished tools to reworked marsbuggy engines. He's even been known to help jury-rig repairs for broke clankers, gratis. After all, you never know when you'll be the one hoping for good karma to come around. Sure, the constant flow of merchandise is an easy place to submerge and lose certain kinds of stolen goods, and a salvage prospector and travelling repair service is an easy cover for the occasional smuggling job, but that's not what Clint is about, see? When it comes down to it, Clint may seem surly to outsiders, but he's the sort of ape who looks after his friends. You don't get anywhere in this life without them.