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| The Company OOC; [Rated M for Mature] | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: July 20, 2012, 4:17 am (702 Views) | |
| Juicesir | July 20, 2012, 4:17 am Post #1 |
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Sexy Shoeless God of Something
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This Roleplay is rated Mature for gratuitous violence, excessive and unnecessary swearing, sex all around, drugs, alcohol, torture, more drugs, drugs with alcohol chasers, torturous amounts of drugged alcohol, disturbing adult themes that'd probably make your mother cry and shit herself if she saw you reading it, and whatever the hell else I feel like because this isn't some fluffy piece of shit where we talk about our feelings. The boys downstairs wanted me to use this as a warning, and I will: if you can't take the heat, stay out of life!!! This is the god damned Company and I'll be damned if some cellar dwelling acne riddled son of a bitch tells me how to run my operation. I'll run it however the fuck I please! I'm Jake Simmons for Christ's sake! We didn't even need this stupid worthless thing anyhow. Warnings aren't progressive. Warnings are shit. So are labels. AND SO ARE YOU! Yeah! I'm talking to you, behind the monitor! I don't need your permission! I don't need your supervision! You can supervise my fist connecting with your throat! Go cry about it, you Deviant Art whoring Tumblr addict of a worm! Because you don't have any friends! That's right! You! Don't! Have! FRIENDS!!! You spineless, penniless, motherless, gutless son of a god damned- ~We are experiencing technical difficulties! Kindly disregard the prior message. And have a nice day!~ ![]() The Message The Rules Any Other Shit We Have to Read?
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| Juicesir | July 20, 2012, 5:04 am Post #2 |
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Sexy Shoeless God of Something
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This will be the only out of character post you see me make and will be allowed in this roleplay. This roleplay is experimental, in that all character creation, rules, and stuff you would normally see and ask in an Out of Character Thread will occur in the In Character Thread, conveniently located here. If you post after this post in the OOC without my permission your character will be denied entry into the roleplay. That's really the only rule for this. This is an immersive, experimental thing I'm doing. Classes and such will be explained all in character. Feel free to follow the guidelines for character creation outlined in the initial In Character post. Other than that, follow standard site rules, PM me any questions or ask them in character in the IC, and don't be a asshole. It's gonna be a wild ride.
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| Juicesir | July 20, 2012, 7:13 am Post #3 |
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Sexy Shoeless God of Something
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~WELCOME TO THE ALPHA BACKGROUND CHECKING PROGRAM!~ Who would you like to check today? Fireteam 1
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| Juicesir | July 21, 2012, 4:18 am Post #4 |
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Sexy Shoeless God of Something
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"Fireteam 1 is awake, sir." The smoke bobbed and swirled as Jake Simmons gave a gentle nod of his head. He looked at the monitor, looking into the eyes of each their newest recruits. "Seriously? This slapshod bunch of mooks is the best you fuckups could get me?" An almost imperceptible head shake, but to Jake it was a flinch. They took themselves so fucking serious. "Sir, our personality paradigm is nearly flawless. Sure," the techie pointed at the girl with the scars first, "they may be a little rough around the edges and yes," he pointed at the guy who had answered panda to the questionnaire, "the surgery may have had a little unexpected side effects on some of them, but they're solid. I stand by the data." "You'll stand in a fucking ditch waiting to lick the shit off a bitch's boot for food if your data is as shit as I think it is." Jake began to exit the room, heading for the Presentation Loading Bay door, when he turned. "The other teams. Any of them ready yet?" The techie gave a shrug. Jake hated shrugs. It was a weak gesture. "We had a couple complications, but if they're-" "Wake 'em when they're ready and send them to the fucking room. This ain't a goddamned social function we're running here." Jake stormed out of the room. He loved storming out of things. Especially when those things were conversations with techies. |
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| Juicesir | August 17, 2012, 11:22 pm Post #5 |
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Sexy Shoeless God of Something
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"We've got interference again." Todd was not one for this continuing bullshit interference. Out of all the jobs he could have gotten in the Company, maintenance was just about the worst of them. Still, it had a longer life expectancy than the dog trainers, and he wasn't as likely to be mutated as those in Advanced Development and Research, but the loneliness and general lack of care everyone gave those who worked in maintenance just really sucked. He clicked his walkie. "Alright, which sector?" "6, sublevel 16. Another relay went down, just like that last. Just a reconnect'll do, gopher." Gopher. That fucking term. Eyes rolling, he clicked the walkie again. "Copy... I'll tell you when I'm out." Todd walked down the corridor and hit the chute opener. The hatch shot open, and Todd lowered himself in and slide. This place often reminded him of a circus, but never more so when he was going down a shoot. Mind you, it wasn't fun house that the Company reminded him; there was nothing fun about the work they did. It was a circus. Buncha freaks running around, being bossed by that jackwad Simmons. He'd never seen the boss, but he'd heard him enough. Too much. The guy couldn't shut his fucking trap. The tubes were lined with some sorta lubricant that prevented them from sliding down it too quickly. Something that AD&R had developed, probably something that'd killed someone at some point or gave them cancer or whatever. What Todd knew is that the lubricant prevented him from getting the bends on descend ops like this, and that he was thankful for. There was something wrong the moment his workboots hit the floor and the familiar clang of the metal railway didn't *cling* as it usually did. There was something wrong the moment that burning plastic smell hit his nostrils, filling both them and the room. There was something wrong when there was light when there supposed to be darkness. There was something wrong. Seriously, badly wrong. |
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| Juicesir | June 18, 2013, 6:49 pm Post #6 |
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Sexy Shoeless God of Something
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"What do you mean, liquidate?" It was a somber day in the boardroom. On Jake's left side of the table sat the remainders of Tech, HR, and Accounting, a petty lot considering most of them had been binned the moment Project Alpha went haywire. On Jake's right side was the sole remainder of AD&R, some field techie named Todd who had been promoted when the rest of AD&R had been mercilessly wiped out by rogue AI and the bunny experiments from sublevel 4. The screams of those pinheads echoed through Jake Simmons' head, exacerbating his already significant headache courtesy of Accounting. "We've gotta liquidate the Company. We have no assets, 97.3% of our projects have been wiped out by rogue AI and bunnies, and the government inspection will be-" The slam of Jake's fist on the table sent coffee cups spilling in terror. "YOU DON'T THINK I FUCKING KNOW WHAT WE'RE INTO?" Bean counters and cowards, all of them. The fucking useless sheeple. Jake paced, a favorite pastime of his when things got dire and this was certainly fucking dire. "You don't think I know?" Nobody spoke. Now was not the time to tell the man who had single-highhandedly built up the Company from the ashes of a telemarketer company that his baby, his love, was beyond saving. Everyone knew it, but now was not the time to say it. Jake Simmons was one of those rare men who when confronted with seeming impossibility would kick said impossibility in the nuts until it yielded. He had bought out half of America's telemarketer companies fueling his rise as a tycoon, sold out a small South American country just to get cheap land, bribed, badgered, and bullied various international officials, corporations, and governments for money to fuel his projects. And now all that remained of it was the desecrated husks of robots being chewed on by Caerbannog rabbits. What a fucking crapshoot. A tentative cough from the same Accountant. "We could... you know... sell it back." Time seemed to swallow Jake as he turned to look. His cold hard expression was one of linoleum: utterly devoid of any feeling, clinical, unyielding. He was simply looking, with nothing there to assess the value of such a claim as to sell the Company. "We've calculated our losses would be around 75%, but with the interest accrued from our-" Nobody had noticed the gun being drawn, the clip being loaded, or Jake's hand raise and aim it at the lone Accountant's head. Everybody was focusing on what this one, desperate man was saying. Everyone was looking at a condemned man they did not know would die until his head exploded over Larry from Tech. The beef stroganov silence which followed was brief, and then began the chaos. Jake unloaded on all of them. He'd locked the doors. He didn't care. This was Armageddon, and he was burying his tomb workers with him. His Company would stand as a testament to his engineering, despite it's failures. He didn't care. He knew it should have succeeded. It should have succeeded. And why shouldn't it still? As Jake paused thoughtfully to reload his Beretta and listen to the dying gurgles of his former employees, this thought seemed to envelope him where few others ever had before. It captured him. It should have worked, and should still work. The click of the clip being inserted reawakened his attention to the now. On his left side were strewn the remainders of Tech, HR, and Accounting, now resembling his grandmother's failed attempts to marry Swiss cheese with meatball subs. Jake hated Swiss cheese. On Jake's right side was the sole remainder of AD&R, Todd, who was now cowering under his chair on his side of the table like it might be made of Kevlar. In point of fact, it was made of a Kevlar bi-weave. Jake had always insisted that most of his furniture be bulletproof. The irony of this situation did not escape him, nor did it's usefulness in stopping his detached rampage from killing off what might be his last hope. He sauntered over to the surprisingly calm former Techie/Maintenance drone. Todd was not handsome, not like Jake Simmons. He wasn't overweight, per say, but he certainly wasn't fit or trim. He'd have to do. Bending his legs and resting his arms across them, he casually aimed the Beretta at Todd's heart under the table. "What is the remainder?" Todd blinked as if he had just been propositioned for a threeway after being mugged. He continued to stare, mouth agape, until Jake decided to throw him out from under his cowering chair and onto the messy Redwood tabletop. "Allow me to enunciate, Todd." He looked thoughtfully off for a moment, and then back to Todd. "It is Todd right?" Todd nodded. Jake always knew his intuition was right. He had merely felt like being dramatic. Gotta seize the chance when it comes, right? "Then allow me to enunciate: what is the remainder of that 97.3% devoted to? What survived? What is that 2.7%?" Todd looked momentarily stunned, and then he simply answered: "Well, the anomaly, of course." ______________ The Company was built as close to the core of the Earth as they could get, but that didn't mean that deep down was where they hid the super important stuff. Contrary to countless tropes and advisement from Engineering, Jake Simmons actually had the majority of his most lethal programs and projects stored as close to the earth's surface as they could be placed without exposing themselves. "We don't want those fuckers going down and screwing us up. Just give them dump latches in case we need to abort them and let the surface deal with them." This logic had always seemed sound to Jake Simmons, especially after seeing the catastrophe that occurred in the movie Cabin in the Woods. So that is why Jake now found he and Todd skyrocketing into the upper reaches of the Company headquarters to sublevel 1, where only the most dangerous, illogical, and profitable of the Company's projects were stored. The elevator pinged. No AI voice sounded, no text screen appeared. They'd had to do away with all the fancy AI gizmos. Just a ping, and then the emaciated corridor. Rabbit droppings littered the sparking wires of the corridor, but thankfully none of the furry demons were to be found. Todd led Simmons along the corridor, continuing the briefing he'd been giving since they left the newly painted boardroom. "And this things just appeared? Poofed?" Todd nodded. "Honestly, sir, it came out of nowhere. This was when I was still part of T&M. Just appeared one day in sublevel 16, melted straight through most of our sublets and began... feeding." Jake paused in his walk. "Whaddaya mean, feeding?" Todd motioned for him to follow. "You'll see, sir." They continued walking, dodging animal droppings and live wires to reach a corridor leading off to the right away from the main access shaft. "It seems to emit some sort of... interference, really. A disturbance in the force-" "Speak English, god damnit. You techie binheads always spit out the choicest bullshit. Give it to me plain." Todd sighed, then turned to look his CEO in the face. "It's not from here." "What, South America? Hate to break it to you son, but neither are we." "No," Todd shook his head, "that's not what I-" "Unless you're some sort of beaner Techie." Jake Simmons gave Todd one of his patented scrutinizing glares, the kind where it felt like he was looking not into your soul, but past it into what it was and could be. "I'm not-" "You are a bit tan." Jake was fucking with the kid. He enjoyed it too much. "But ya don't have the cheekbones for it. Welsh?" "I... wait, yes. I am. How did you-" "I was an anthropology major back in college, son." Jake bellowed a hearty laugh which ricocheted of the corridors much like the bullets had in the boardroom back into the head of Nancy from Corporate Accounts Payable. Jake laughed again at that image. Bloated whore. "WELL, as I was saying, it's not from here. It has some sort of field around it. We've done research, but it isn't-" "Gorram fucking hell, son, how long are these corridors? Where is it?" His patience wearing, despite his predicament, Jake Simmons plodded down the access corridor, looking for a door. "I don't know, sir, you built the place." Jake detected a tone of sarcasm in Todd's voice, but decided to let it go. A rare act of mercy for Todd. "Computer, show me... aw shit, fucking-" Jake slammed his fist against the wall, "-god damn hell, these AI's will be the death of me." And the wall pressed in. Gyros sounded, and a door opened. Jake had inadvertently rested his hand on an opening mechanism. "It's there sir." "No shit, Sherlock." The two entered the chamber. This was the only project room on the whole floor, and Jake's instincts about where it had been were lucky: he built the entire floor to only house one room, with multiple corridors distracting from where it actually was. Jake Simmons had left explicit instructions for no person to ever use this room unless they had something really great to put in it. After his palm, eyes, and feet were scanned, he was happy to see the security countermeasures for keeping anyone from touching whatever had been placed in here were still in place. It would still be here. A whoosh, fresh air, and then a new room, a room giant and open, with various pulse force emitters keeping the precious project carefully levitated in the center of the room. It was still here. With Todd running diagnostics at a nearby console, Jake Simmons carefully stepped up to the force field. He pulled his last cigar from his jacket pocket, lit it, and took a deep drag from it. Exhaling, he stared at the 2.7% of his remaining assets which had the hope to change it all around. He stared long and hard at his last and greatest investment, this new hope, and smiled. "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." ______________ To be continued... elsewhere... |
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| That Butler | November 10, 2013, 9:32 pm Post #7 |
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Bad Jew
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This roleplay is closed due to inactivity or by request of the Game Master. Please contact one of the Roleplaying Moderators to have it reinstated.
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5:54 PM Jul 13