The Mythos RPG: Game Thread

Starting with character sheets:

alliterator

Spoiler:

XuchilVith

Spoiler:

shusshoku

Spoiler:

'shadE

Spoiler:

Broeckchen

Spoiler:

Gustybv

Spoiler:

It's a bright, cheery, sunny Saturday in Bell Heights, a small suburb of New Jersey. The place is a mid-sized town, with a forest running along the western side, and the eastern leading to more urban locales. Not much ever happens here; people are still talking about scandals which occurred over ten years ago, and the police force spends most of its time ticketing speeding out of towners.

alliterator, you are in your office, a small little place with your private investigator sign above the door. Business tends to be slow here, but it's enough to make a living. Haven't been any new jobs in some time, though.

XuchilVith, you're in your apartment. You've converted part of it into your own small hacker cave; while you lack the funds for a complex system of computers and such, you can afford enough for your needs.

shusshoku, you're at the town's gym, having recently finished a workout of.... Boxing.... stuff.... (I just now realized my only knowledge of anything related to boxing comes from the Rocky movies.)

'shadE, you're in the local park, on the edge of the urban sprawl. Park's pretty crowded, due to it being a weekend. Mostly families, out with their kids.

And now the game has begun; you are free to explore the environments which I've kinda tossed your characters into.

The bell rings, marking the end of Reves' workout session for the day, so he walked over to Coach Bogard's office to let him know he was leaving. Reves knocked on the door and slowly peered into the office. "Um, Coach? I wanted to let you know I'm done for the day." Bogard was busy going over paperwork. "Huh? Oh, yeah. Remember to meet me tomorrow, OK!"

"Yes sir." The plans for tomorrow included going doing roadwork, by running through the forest, and going to do an interview someplace about his upcoming fight with another hometown favorite, Eric Kesslar. Thanks to the coach's publicity, Reves had received a lot of attention lately from various news outlets. Unfortunately, none of it was the right kind of publicity. Coach Bogard would constantly make outrageous claims to the media about him, so public opinion was polarizing. It's the reason Reves has to go in disguise when out, generally wearing a hoodie and sunglasses.

Seeing as he still had to maintain his weight, Reves decided to jog through town to spend his time before nighttime. He only hoped he could resist the temptation to eat meat. Oh, what he wouldn't give to have a nice juicy burger. It's been four months now since he last had any meat and his desire for it grew every day. Curse you, succulent temptress, he begrudgingly thought as he continued his jog.

"Ow! Uh, sorry, beg your pardon..."

The slight yelp that leaped eagerly from Helena's throat had been caused by a stub to her right toes; baby strollers, especially when moving in your direction, Helena discovered, could be surprisingly painful. With a hobbling gait, she sidestepped onto a strip of grass beside the narrow walkway and slid onto the corner of a mostly occupied bench, proceeding to massage the foot that had been rolled on ever so savagely. An agitated sigh escaped the young art student; she had planned for a peaceful day of sketching trees or sunlight or whatever other offerings of inspiration she could scavenge, not shouldering through slow-moving families or finding elderly women taking up entire benches with seemingly endless bags of bird seed.

Setting her right foot down and gingerly testing her bruised toes on the earth, Helena learned that there was still a tiny throb in them, but other than that there was no big deal at all. Sketchbook and pencil case still tucked tightly beneath one arm, she set off again, deciding this time to avoid the paths entirely for fear of getting completely trampled, which on a day like this seemed entirely possible to Helena. She should've known better; it was a Saturday, and a beautiful one, too. Of course families would be out and about, and families meant children. If there was one thing that Helena had learned in her short life it was that children, especially to the mind of the artist, were the most unwelcome distraction on the face of the earth.

Pausing alongside the concrete pathway she had decided to follow, sketchbook now clutched to her chest, Helena cast a longing glance at the low-rise buildings in the distance and debated going back. There was nothing for her here, now; too much noise, too many people. This was not the environment for an artist at work, she knew that much. But still...

She was here already. Why the hell not?

Helena plunked down into the soft and slightly damp grass, hoping that she didn't have water stains on her light denim capris by the time she was finished. Expertly flipping open her sketchbook to a blank page and wielding a navy mechanical pencil from her plain black box of utensils, her sky blue optics began to scan the park for signs of artistic interest, almond-shaped orbs swimming with a hungry, calculating need for stimulation.

The only decent thing Helena could settle upon was the park playthings themselves. Far from substantial, but it would do. With a final adjustment to her plain blue v-neck t-shirt, she began to draw. Her pencil made quick, precise movements, taking the form of tiny little lines; for the first few minutes, indistinguishable. But after a while, shapes and figures were formed. A swing set here, a slide there, an intricately shaded piece of plastic with holes in it that appeared to be for climbing. For good measure, Helena even decided to toss in two little children, a boy and a girl, playing by a tree.

Smirking in satisfaction at what might've been one of her greatest realistic works yet, she held the drawing back a few feet from her face, ready to take in her magnificent, glorious sketch compared to the dull, regular scene–

Disappointingly, the dullness of reality seemed to have crawled its way into Helena's page.

With a dejected sigh, the young student gave up, flipped the page, and proceeded drawing some sort of unicorn-lizard that, she figured, was probably seen in one of the Harry Potter movies.

At least it wasn't a swing set.

Audrey leaned back in her chair, yawning and stretching. She glanced at the small clock at the bottom right of her computer screen, and winced. 4:17 PM. She hadn't moved from her desk since ten that morning.

"Shiiit", she groaned.

She'd lost track of time again. It was happening more and more frequently, and she didn't like it. It wasn't healthy. But the worst part was that she hadn't even done anything productive. Six hours of nothing but forums and image boards and bullshit. She had told herself that the only reason she needed to be in front of a computer for that long was if she was hacking. But work had been light lately, and she'd found herself browsing the internet for hours to keep her crushing boredom at bay.

And now she realized that she was hungry. REALLY hungry. She hadn't eaten since breakfast, and in her zombie-like state hadn't noticed just how hungry she was. She got up from her chair and navigated through the small apartment to the kitchen in the dark, instinctively avoiding the computer parts scattered on the floor like landmines. Heavy curtains on the windows blocked out the sunlight outside; the only illumination came from the computer screen.

Weak yellow light spilled into the kitchen as Audrey peered into the refrigerator. She shut the door and sighed heavily. She didn't think she could choke down another condiment sandwich. If she didn't come up with some work soon, she'd have to ask her mom for money again. That was the last thing she wanted to do.

Now thoroughly depressed, Audrey plopped herself down on the couch, lit a cigarette, and tried to think of something to do.

Carbrey sat behind a too large desk and read a book. It had been a slow day. In fact, it had been a slow month. The usual business of cheating spouses had trickled to almost a crawl and Carbrey had become worried that he wouldn't be able to pay off the rent for his office, so he was distracting himself with fantasy novel.

He was right in the middle of a very juicy fight scene when he heard a knock on the door. He placed his bookmark back between the pages, closed the book, and stuffed it into his desk drawer. "Come in," he said.

A woman opened the door and walked in. Carbrey realized that perhaps "walk" wasn't the right term. "Sauntered" maybe. The woman had more curves than a winding road, one of those little ones that are barely paved that you are sure is a shortcut, but just happens to take you hours away from any recognizable landmark, so you turn back around again and end up back where you started, but several hours and gallons of gas later.

"Mr. Donovan?" she said.

"That's me," Carbrey said.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I was expecting someone...taller."

Carbrey had heard every joke in the book (and some that weren't), so he had learned not to take anything personally. Dwarfs were rare enough as is and being a dwarf detective made him even rarer. If that was a word. But Carbrey had learned over the years that when people were surprised, they let their guard down...and he could learn more information that way. So he endured the Munchkin wisecracks and when he finally got down to business, those jokers were surprised to learn that Carbrey was a damn good detective.

"What can I do for you, Ms.?"

"Burke." The woman sat down in front of Carbrey's desk and unwound her scarf. "Wilhemina Burke. And I would like to hire you. You see, I think my husband is cheating on me."

Carbrey sat back, relaxed, and listened as Wilhemina Burke told him her story. He was good at listening.

Now if only he could get cases that didn't involve cheating spouses.

Reves continued his jog around town, following a path he normally took during his roadwork. The path encompassed the less frequented roads, away from Bell Heights "entertainment district," if a movie theater and a few "racy" bars could be categorized as such. It was in his best interest to keep away, not only because of the chance of being spotted, but because of the hoodlums who began occupying the area. 'Those darn kids', Reves thought, 'why cant they get a new hobby which doesn't deface public property.' Reves quickly recalled his own young age and decided to drop the inner monologue and focus on the path he was running.

He eventually reached the park and had considered jogging through. However, with his identity currently hidden by his hoodie and sunglasses, he thought this would garner him some odd reactions from the park goers, so he decided change his route. Jogging past a new street was better than having to defend himself against fans or accusations of kidnapping. However, it appeared he went down the wrong street, as he came face to face with the bane of his current existence. A Fuddruckers.

The establishment seemed to be mocking him, with its nearly empty parking lot and glowing neon signs. It knew good and well that he couldn't enter because of his weight conditioning and must have moved there for the sure purpose of tormenting him with their various types of succulent burgers. Yes, that doesn't sound crazy at all... Reves decided to jolt down an alleyway to avoid their luminous siren call. He looked at the walls of the alley, covered in graffiti, and not even anything original. Why they wish to "fornicate" the police, he'd never know...

With his disdain growing, Reves decided to head back to his apartment and try to relax there. Part of him wished he had kept some other hobby since he began training as a boxer, five years earlier, but he knew that he never had the choice. Boxing was the only way he could help support himself and his mother. He remembered the day Coach Bogard came to him and asked Reves to train with him in boxing in exchange for helping support him and his mother. On the surface, this seems like a cliche story (one which Coach Bogard used if he thought it would make more money) but it was not. Reves had no talent or any natural abilities at all, and had to be built to where he is today by the coach's harsh and rigorous training. Thanks to this, his mother was able to live her last few years without worry before she passed from lung cancer.

Reves tried to stop thinking about his past and instead turned on his CD player. Ah, the Grateful Dead. Yes, the soothing voice of Jerry Garcia could make him forget his troubles as he tried to relax, but it was not to be. The faucet in the kitchen was leaking and the sound of the drops seemed to be amplified. The worst part of weight control was the dehydration. The body would absorb any water it could, whether you drank it or came in any contact with it. Reves hadn't been able to shower in a week in preparation for the upcoming match and was forced to limit any water he drank to a minimum. As the dripping began to intensify, Reves went into his room, taking the CD player with him and set it next to his ear to try and sleep. Sleeping was all he could do to fight the urge, thus he reluctantly went to bed, so the day would end sooner.

Audrey put out her cigarette and stood up with a groan. She resolved that the best thing to do would be to go for a walk. God knew she needed the exercise. She was 5'3", and, the scale had told her the last time she'd been to the doctor, 210 pounds. She feared her weight had gone up even more since then, thanks to her job/hobby and terrible eating habits. She was terrified that if she kept going this way she'd end up as one of those people at Wal-Mart riding around in the electric carts, not because they were handicapped but because they were morbidly obese. She let out a violent shiver at the thought.

Yes, a walk would definitely be the best thing to do.

She put on her sneakers and grabbed a small pocket knife off of the kitchen counter. Bell Heights may have been a sleepy little suburb, but shit happens all over, and Audrey took no chances. She took the knife with her every time she went out, and while she didn't exactly know what she would do with it if the situation ever arose, she felt a little safer carrying it.

She stepped outside, squinting in the fading sunlight, and locked the door behind her.

Audrey looked around her as she walked first past a cluster of apartment complexes, then rows of moderately -sized houses. An old man watered his lawn, a teenager mowed the grass, some kids rode their bikes around in a cul-de-sac. The whole thing looked like a scene out of Leave It To Beaver. Audrey chuckled a little at the absurdity of it. What people did outside was one thing, what they did in the privacy of their own homes was another. There were affairs and abusive fathers and alcoholic mothers and kids who killed small animals for fun. The world was a giant teeming cesspool; you only had to turn on the news to see it.

That was why Audrey avoided people as much as possible. Oh, she was nice enough when she did need to interact, and she had a small group of friends (though most of them were online and had never met Audrey in person), but deep down, people disgusted her.

And here was a perfect example. She paused in front of a power line pole onto which someone had stapled a flyer. A boy who might've been 7 looked out from the black-and-white photo, his broad grin revealing a lost tooth. The word MISSING! screamed out above the picture. Below were details about the lost child, whose name was David Townsend. He'd been gone for over a month, police had no leads. No doubt he was snatched up by some sick pedophile. Audrey sincerely doubted they'd find the poor boy alive.

Audrey began walking again, and her thoughts turned to her older brother. Logan had gone missing 10 years ago, when he was 16 and Audrey was 12. The police hadn't been much help, saying that he had most likely run away and there wasn't much they could do. Audrey had cried for a long time, but accepted the explanation easily enough. Her mother had of course been devastated. Neither of them had seen or heard from Logan again. He had probably changed his name, moved to a different state, and started a new life. Their parents' divorce had been hard on him, and he had mentioned wanting to run away several times to Audrey. But something had always bothered her about it. Audrey and Logan had always been very close, in fact it had been her brother who had taught Audrey about computers. But when he ran away, it had been so sudden. He hadn't even left a note, let alone say good bye to his little sister. That had always bothered her.

Audrey shook her head to clear her thoughts. She didn't like thinking about that part of her life. They were painful memories, and dwelling on them wasn't going to change anything.

Audrey walked on, wishing she had brought her cigarettes with her.

Hm.... *Strokes nonexistent beard*

It seems that there's some confusion between the differences between an RP and an RPG.... Which has made me realize when you all signed up, you were imagining a very different game than I was....

I explain the differences between the two in this post.

If this changes your enthusiasm for playing, I'd understand. If you're willing to continue, I'm keeping the first few posts everyone made, as it works fine for adding to the characters and backstory; also saves me the trouble of having to describe the surroundings, as you've done so yourself.

Ah, sorry. Like i said, i've never done an RPG before, so i just kinda followed what everyone else was doing. DX

I still wanna play, but... Yeah. Should we start over? XP

You can ignore everything in my post if you wish. I was merely setting my character up (I realized afterward that it may seem like Ms. Burke was the introduction of a plot, but she really isn't - she's just a detail in the character's life).

If it helps:

I loot my office, looking for gold money. And arms.

Audrey: Retrieve arms[[Aw, alliterator beat me to it. ]]

I decide to go outside for a walk. I open the door and step outside.

Being the first to make the mistake, I'd like to apologize. Lets forget everything I posted then. Moving on...

My training session ends, so I go to let the coach know I'm leaving.

[ AH. I understand everything now. Ignorant post is ignorant. ]

I walk towards a bench and sit down, observing my surroundings.

Actually, what I think I'll do is just pick up from where the RP posts left off. My first few posts would have just been establishing the setting, which is what all of you did in your posts anyways, so this just saves me from doing work.

shusshoku: Your sleep is restful, having exhausted yourself
during the day's workout. You feel as though you barely laid down on the
bed before your alarm starts blaring a high pitched sound, telling you
that it's time to get out of bed once more.

'shadE: You start your drawing of the unicorn-lizard. Andbecause rolling dice amuses me....
(This is primarily to show off the system in action; I won't be writing out every die roll which happens in the game)
Rolling Int+Crafts (With specialization), comes out with 6,4,9,2,8,6,1,
and 8. That's 3 successes. You've made a pretty impressive drawing
there; one of your better ones, you think.
"Excuse me," a very timid voice from behind you snaps you out from
focusing on the drawing, "Are you, um, are you, drawing something? Like,
um, like an artist?"

alliterator: Mrs. Burke talks for some time about her husband. It's nothing you haven't heard before; Mr. Burke calls in after work with excuses why he has to stay late, he's been talking on the phone with someone he refuses to name, he seems to be in an oddly chipper mood lately, and acting so secretive. She shows you a picture of her husband; middle aged, hair graying slightly, growing bald patch.

XuchilVith: You wander further through the town, lost in thoughts. When you finally pull your mind out and look around your surroundings, you realize that it's starting to get late at night. The sun has completely set, and street lights are coming on. Your apartment is still in walking distance, but it'll be a long walk back.

"Damn, " i mutter.

I turn around and head back home, keeping my hand by my pocket in case i should need to go for the knife.

"Well, I am quite the artist, aren't I..." I reply, looking over my shoulder towards the direction of the voice and giving a proud smile.

I groan as I get out of bed and shut off the alarm, then leave the apartment to meet the coach.

XuchilVith wrote:

"Damn, " i mutter.

I turn around and head back home, keeping my hand by my pocket in case i should need to go for the knife.

Since I'm not able to intimidate players with the sight of me rolling dice without explanation, I'll just have to show it in text form....
Int+Inv-3: 7

You notice absolutely nothing unusual around you.

The sun has completely gone down, and the only light you now have is the line of lamps going down the road. Not the best street lights in the world; they scarcely illuminate the patch of ground underneath them, leaving most of the area completely black.

`shadE wrote:

"Well, I am quite the artist, aren't I..." I reply, looking over my
shoulder towards the direction of the voice and giving a proud smile.

There's a young man standing there, roughly around your age. He's in pretty cheap, obviously second hand clothes. When you look back, he looks down to avoid eye contact with you.
"I.... Used to draw. Used to draw a lot. Um.... Do you.... Do you mind if I look at your picture?"

shusshok wrote:

I groan as I get out of bed and shut off the alarm, then leave the apartment to meet the coach.

You barely notice the trip over to the gym; it's not until you walk inside that you finally start to wake up. Coach Bogard is already there, seemingly oblivious to the early hours and looking ready to get out running.

Coach Bogar: "Come on, get moving! I haven't got all day to wait for you!"

I keep walking, mostly focusing on the sidewalk in front of me, since it's too dark to see much else. I start to get that creepy feeling of being watched, but see nothing when i glance around. I walk a little faster.

I tell Ms. Burke my fee and she agrees to pay half up front. I love the clients who do that without argument. She seems nice, but I don't have the best judgment and I might have been a bit distracted during the interview.

"So," I say, "what else can you tell me about your husband's recent change in behavior?"

"Oh, not at all!" I reply after a brief survey of the stranger's appearance, gladly handing my sketchbook to the boy. "Just don't put your fingers all over it, it could smudge."

"Yes, sir!"

The coach gets on his bike and starts to pedal towards the forest. "Make sure you keep up!"

"Yes, sir," Reves repeats as he follows the coach.

XuchilVith wrote:

I keep walking, mostly focusing on the sidewalk in front of me, since it's too dark to see much else. I start to get that creepy feeling of being watched, but see nothing when i glance around. I walk a little faster.

You pick up the pace, but your apartment feels so far away.
Int+Inv-3: 3

You still can't see anything unusual in the darkness.
The streetlight behind you goes black. Not flickers off, just goes completely black.

alliterator wrote:

I
tell Ms. Burke my fee and she agrees to pay half up front. I love the
clients who do that without argument. She seems nice, but I don't have
the best judgment and I might have been a bit distracted during the
interview.

"So," I say, "what else can you tell me about your husband's recent change in behavior?"

Just another note about the difference between RPs and RPGs: You have no control over the actions of non-player characters in an RPG. You may state your fee, but whether or not Mrs. Burke agrees is up to the GM.
I'll let this pass for now (as I would have had her agree anyways), but in your next post, tell me how much you're charging her so I can put the amount she paid up front into your inventory.

Mrs. Burke: "It started out he'd go out at night once a week, but now he's going out almost every other day. He keeps coming up with more excuses, usually that he has work.... He works for city hall, by the ways.... Lately, he hasn't even been coming home until the next afternoon. I've confronted him about it, but he denies everything. I just need someone to find me real evidence."

`shadE wrote:

"Oh, not at all!" I reply after a brief survey of the stranger's
appearance, gladly handing my sketchbook to the boy. "Just don't put
your fingers all over it, it could smudge."

"Thank you...."
He looks through the book, extremely careful to not smudge anything.
"These are.... Um.... Very good. Thank you."
He hands back the sketchbook.

shusshoku wrote:

"Yes, sir!"

The coach gets on his bike and starts to pedal towards the forest. "Make sure you keep up!"

"Yes, sir," Reves repeats as he follows the coach.

Same thing I said to alliterator about NPC actions. Not a big deal right now as we're just starting, and I know switching from RP to RPG mindsets can take a few posts.

You run after the coach as he pedals ahead. You're keeping up, but breathing slightly heavier than usual. Must be a bad day.

The forests start to come up, and coach leads the bike off the road onto the sidewalk, preparing to move onto the trails.

I take back the book, pausing for a little before closing it. Twiddling my pencil in my right hand, I stand and face the boy, surveying his face with inquisitive eyes. "What's your name?" I ask, tilting my head to the side slightly.