2015 After recolinisation; the apocalypse has already occured, some 3000 years ago, earth has been recolinised and has reached almost exactly the same state. Save large pine-forests on America, marches on Australia and slightly advanced tech world-wide.
Nickel Inc, one of the most advanced lab's in Knucklebones (Read Texas) has long been working on making test-tube babies designed for combat.
After creating several successful clones, they create a mixed batch, programmed to have strong urges to eradicate all other clones in the batch. Releasing these and locking down the facility they leave. Planning to come back after the action has cooled down, supposedly being left with only the most effective clones.
Unfortunately some clones, break into the boiler room with the intention of blowing up the lab in a suicidal attempt to destroy the other clones. Many are killed by the resulting blast, but a good fifty survive, now no longer hemmed in by the now lab's walls. These hide in the city, having large shoot-outs in public places to the chagrin of the sheriff.
In this forum you play as one of these artificial-humans, but be wary, some clones have excelled to an elite level, and while the police will only detain you Nickel Inc soldiers will gladly cut you down. This is not a friendly world to be spawned into.
RULES: No auto hitting, killing, unlocking, traversing, ect. No cussing in english. Clones are limited to Saline City Knucklebones and are unable to leave. No flash-dancing.
NOTIFACATION: Due to the tyrannical nature of Vodafone I will only be able to post of Thursday to Monday each week.
Character sheet: Fill in the brackets with your clones details.
Name: (The name your clone gives himself) Notable features: (Most clones were formed as blond Caucasians in there late teens, but some my vary, having different skin,hair,eye colour or being albino or hetrochromatic. Inventory: (Pick a side-arm form the list below.) State: Healthy
Clones will start in the smouldering wreckage of the Nickel Inc's destroyed ware-house, armed with pistols kindly (stupidly) supplied by Nickel Inc. This is located on beginning of Row street
Name: Sean Deane Notable features: 6ft 2' in height, with short brown hair, golden iris', with slightly tanned skin. Inventory: Cain 12 12/18 State: Healthy
The sniper is thrown sideways by the force of the bullets, the rifle going off in his hands as he dies. The recoil helps to tip him over until he's lying on his back, frowning at you lifelessly.
You reach the first backyard fence and find a jumping castle to hide behind. You can hear the hillbillies shouting at each other angrily, something about the cost of shot shells. As they come to to fence you hear one of them reloading a lever-action rifle.
Name: Sean Deane Notable features: 6ft 2' in height, with short brown hair, golden iris', with slightly tanned skin. Inventory: Cain 12 12/18 State: Healthy
I get up quickly, moving toward the dead clone. I grab his gun and anything else he's carrying.
Name: Sean Deane Notable features: 6ft 2' in height, with short brown hair, golden iris', with slightly tanned skin. Inventory: Cain 12 12/18, Waster 3/4, Hans II 2/5 State: Healthy
The rifle seems to be bolt-action, meaning you'll have to load it before firing again. The clone has a small streamline pistol on him, but it's only got two rounds in it.
Name: Sean Deane Notable features: 6ft 2' in height, with short brown hair, golden iris', with slightly tanned skin. Inventory: Cain 12 12/18, Waster 3/4, Hans II 2/5 State: Healthy
I crouch down and reload the rifle, glancing around searching for anymore threats.
Name: Sean Deane Notable features: 6ft 2' in height, with short brown hair, golden iris', with slightly tanned skin. Inventory: Cain 12 12/18, Waster 3/4, Hans II 2/5 State: Healthy
The clones were all trained to use different types of weaponry, so you have no trouble, aptly working the bolt and sending the spent case over your shoulder. Although there are at first no visible threats, the weapons scope reveals a group of law-men, some 80 meters away approaching.
You manage to climb onto the balcony, using a pile of fire-wood as an elevated point to jump from. Once on the tiled balcony you find a large glass door, which seems to be unlocked. But inside the house you can see another security camera, like you encountered before, except this one has a large block machine-pistol attached to it.
Name: Sean Deane Notable features: 6ft 2' in height, with short brown hair, golden iris', with slightly tanned skin. Inventory: Cain 12 12/18, Waster 3/4, Hans II 2/5 State: Healthy
I sling the rifle over my shoulder and move hurriedly in the opposite direction, constantly looking around for a hiding spot or other threats
Name: Sean Deane Notable features: 6ft 2' in height, with short brown hair, golden iris', with slightly tanned skin. Inventory: Cain 12 12/18, Waster 3/4, Hans II 2/5 State: Healthy
You continue to the South, unobstructed. Through the scope on the Waster you can see a busy high-way in the distance, there are several tin shacks and outhouses dotting the land that would make good/predictable hiding spots.
As your foot crosses the door-way the cameras weapon automatically chamber itself, issuing a warning metallic click, followed by a papery scrape. There is a wallet lying on the table on the other side of the room, and several classy looking paintings on the walls.
Name: Sean Deane Notable features: 6ft 2' in height, with short brown hair, golden iris', with slightly tanned skin. Inventory: Cain 12 12/18, Waster 3/4, Hans II 2/5 State: Healthy
I hurriedly run over to do the shacks, I peer through the windows looking for anything valuable inside. I try never to stay at a house for more than a few seconds
Name: Sean Deane Notable features: 6ft 2' in height, with short brown hair, golden iris', with slightly tanned skin. Inventory: Cain 12 12/18, Waster 3/4, Hans II 2/5 Rifle cartridges x3, Anti-freeze. State: Healthy
You search three shacks as they come your way and find a few rounds that look like they would fit your rifle, and a can of anti-freeze. You can hear police on megaphones nearby, as you meet the high way.
The camera bursts open messily the, let alone the lens, and there's a small shower of sparks. This doesn't bother the mounter sub-machine-gun however. It is unable to swivel to track you now, but insists on letting of a stream of bullets, spent cases raining to the ground. You feel you coat flapping as a round goes through it but are otherwise able to avoid the volley.
You can hear those voices again; "D'you hear that pappy?" "Yes boy, git up that window."
