Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)
ApocryphalBuffy
Planetoid
- Joined
- Jul 4, 2010
My primary thread, with rp style details and the like.
This is ideally set up as a Cyperpunk Person of Interest sequel scenario, with the ideal "your character" being Root [i.imgur.com]. It is 100% not necessary to use this character though, if you have somebody else who we can fit into the mold of this story.
The cyberpunk future has a very different value system than our world. Corporate greed and intrigue is more prominent than ever. Quasi-religious cults (like The Church of the Machine) have replaced the larger religions of our time, and government is intrinsically tied with both. The wealth gap is greater than ever (if you can imagine that... </politics>), with the rich living in their high towers and rest living down below in the rain and neon (though "below" can still be dozens or even hundreds of stories up... The views are ridonkulous).
Also, there is no longer any sort of real taboo about any specific body part being covered. Since everything is replaceable, people tend to enjoy showing off their natural parts, to show that they're unenhanced, or to show their cybernetics, because they're cool. Prostitution is rampant and sex is no longer an act to be hidden away.
This story is very much set up to be an incestuous romance between mother and daughter. If that's not your jam though, I can do some retooling to make it less incest-y, but no less gay. This is not using Cyberpunk 2077 as a template yet, as I'm trying to remain utterly unspoiled for the game when it comes out, so this world is more a Blade Runner - Altered Carbon - Jessica Jones amalgamation. For now.
Here is my F-List (NSFW)
Play-bys/Face-claims for my character are either Olga Kurylenko or Krysten Ritter.
This is ideally set up as a Cyperpunk Person of Interest sequel scenario, with the ideal "your character" being Root [i.imgur.com]. It is 100% not necessary to use this character though, if you have somebody else who we can fit into the mold of this story.
In the not too distant future, your character wakes up after being dead for 60 years, killed by the enemies of The Machine that she dedicated her life to serving, that she almost loved. Upon waking up, she finds various technological implants in her head, impossible technology from her time. The Machine is long missing.
Enter, the Church of the Machine, those responsible for your character's resurrection. Their goal is to find out what happened to The Machine and to find out where she is hiding. The techno-quasi-religious organization spent decades trying to bring you back in a process that likely (but not definitely) cannot be repeated. It was so arduous and complicated that the resurrection actually succeeded nearly two decades ago, but your character has been in a coma since.
This is where Argent comes in: The moment that life returned to your character, a process set into place by The Machine started, genetic material from unknown sources merging and gestating inside of her, resulting in her giving birth nine months later. The Church can only guess to the girl's purpose, all signs pointing to her somehow having the ability to find The Machine. The only problem is, Argent has absolutely no idea how to access the ability, if she even has it. So for now, she is a teenage runner for the Church, sending secret communiques back and forth to various other factions and government agencies is this new world.
Enter, the Church of the Machine, those responsible for your character's resurrection. Their goal is to find out what happened to The Machine and to find out where she is hiding. The techno-quasi-religious organization spent decades trying to bring you back in a process that likely (but not definitely) cannot be repeated. It was so arduous and complicated that the resurrection actually succeeded nearly two decades ago, but your character has been in a coma since.
This is where Argent comes in: The moment that life returned to your character, a process set into place by The Machine started, genetic material from unknown sources merging and gestating inside of her, resulting in her giving birth nine months later. The Church can only guess to the girl's purpose, all signs pointing to her somehow having the ability to find The Machine. The only problem is, Argent has absolutely no idea how to access the ability, if she even has it. So for now, she is a teenage runner for the Church, sending secret communiques back and forth to various other factions and government agencies is this new world.
The cyberpunk future has a very different value system than our world. Corporate greed and intrigue is more prominent than ever. Quasi-religious cults (like The Church of the Machine) have replaced the larger religions of our time, and government is intrinsically tied with both. The wealth gap is greater than ever (if you can imagine that... </politics>), with the rich living in their high towers and rest living down below in the rain and neon (though "below" can still be dozens or even hundreds of stories up... The views are ridonkulous).
Also, there is no longer any sort of real taboo about any specific body part being covered. Since everything is replaceable, people tend to enjoy showing off their natural parts, to show that they're unenhanced, or to show their cybernetics, because they're cool. Prostitution is rampant and sex is no longer an act to be hidden away.
This story is very much set up to be an incestuous romance between mother and daughter. If that's not your jam though, I can do some retooling to make it less incest-y, but no less gay. This is not using Cyberpunk 2077 as a template yet, as I'm trying to remain utterly unspoiled for the game when it comes out, so this world is more a Blade Runner - Altered Carbon - Jessica Jones amalgamation. For now.
The Church of the Machine was easily one of the more creepy organizations in 2056,five dark, gothic temples spread out inside the walls of Los Angeles. In a city of corporate fiefdoms competing for power, credits, and higher offices in the sea of skyscrapers, all trying to rise above the rain, neon, and constant advertising that flooded the city, quasi-religious "churches", such as The Church of the Machine, stood disturbingly separate, seemingly untouched by the city's corporate machinations. The mysterious members of The Church of the Machine were called Neon Nuns, their bodies and faces covered in neon-lined robes, not a piece of skin visible. Their appearances and very identities kept secret, an air of menace surrounding them, people gave them a wide berth on the rare occassion they were seen on the streets. Every now and again, somebody would see a Neon Nun as an opportunity to make a name for themself. Attempted muggings, robberies, even rapes or murders, were dealt with swiftly and efficiently, nothing left of the attacker save for a nuclear shadow on the wall behind where they stood.
Argent was created and raised by the Neon Nuns. Seventeen years prior, the nuns silently entered one of Los Angeles' many decrepit orphanages, looking like neon-lined ghosts to the kids inside. Five girls were chosen, ages ranging from two to fifteen years old, and genetic material pulled from their bodies: blood, saliva, and most painfully of all, spinal fluid. Six months later, the first of five clone babies emerged from her artificial womb. Each of the five was raised in one temple, separated from the others, not even knowing of their existance. Argent's upbringing was impersonal; In her sixteen years, she had never seen a Neon Nun's face. Unlike anybody else in the city though, she had seen their bodies and knew that they were human, with human urges.
Despite her quasi-religious secret society upbringing, Argent was... well, happy. Optimistic, even, a contrast to the dreary, always raining city. Even when, at the instruction of the Neon Nuns, Argent took a job at Lizzie's, a nearby dive and strip club, she retained an air of humor and joy, an attitude that made her a very popular girl there. Most (though not all) prostitutes were at the employ and mercy of madams and pimps, but Argent's connections to The Church of the Machine made her something of a free agent. Technically, it could be said that the church was her madam, but they were utterly hands-off, only making sure that Lizzy hired the teen, then leaving the nitty-gritty of her employ in their hands. Lizzie's was exclusive to the female gender, anybody who presented as female, including trans, shemale, and female-leaning non-binary. It dealt in alcohol and drugs, both legal and illegal, neither of which Argent partook in. Not out of any abstinance required by the church but instead, she just hated the taste of alcohol and the only drug high that she experienced made her incredibly sick, bed-ridden for days, the Neon Nuns' bedside manner being simply to leave water and cleansing pills on her nightstand every four hours. Absent them, her job was sex: stripping on stage, fucking Janes both inside and outside of the club, even the occassional escort job for upper-city girls in need of a date but without the time to go through proper corporate channels for one.
-------------------------------------
Iris West was a budding journalist, not yet jaded by the oppressive corruption in LA or the other walled cities and corporate enclaves around the world. Both arms and her right leg were mid-level cybernetic replacements. Because the news organization was able to foot most of the bill, they looked fairly lifelike with full range of motion and full sense of touch. She was jockeying for an eye replacement, under the reasoning that it would help with her investigative stories, but has been turned down thus far. Always seeking the truth and honestly rather annoyed by mysteries, the various churches piqued her curiosity, which was never a good thing.
She was going through some files given to her by a source of a source of a source, trying to make a shred of sense of what they said when something popped up: a shadow cloning program, deply illegal to all of the corporate overlords who believed that only the richest of the rich, those able to afford to live above the clouds, rain, and smog, should be permitted to experiment with. The fact that a church had such a program was, truthfully, not surprising, considering how they existed outside the law in so many aspects. The file contained DNA profiles of five women, four of whom were redacted by somebody in the chain of custody. The only name remaining was [your character].
Iris was friends with [your character], occassional lovers. Whether out of professional respect or personal requirement between friends, Iris wrapped the papers, sealed them in a security bag, and had her most trusted couier deliver them to [your character].
The evidence was easier for [your character] to decipher, leading the private investigator to the Church of the Machine. Apart from the infamous and creepy Neon Nuns, the church was mostly known for its search for a missing benevolent A.I., one who lost her battle against the corporations taking charge years ealier and having since disappeared. The church's goal (although nobody knew how this information got out, as the Neon Nuns were not at all talkative about it) was to find the A.I., called The Machine in their scriptures, in the hope that she would lead them to a new future, away from corporate influence. And yes, The Machine was always referred to as "she" in the scriptures. The Church was surprisingly dark and empty, its only light seen from outside coming from a small room, ten levels up.
----------------------
It was a typical December evening when Argent returned home from Lizzies, balmy in temperature, balanced by the ever-present rain, a result of global climate change kicking the planet's ass. Argent's body was one hundred percent natural without cybernetic enhancement (cloning origin notwithstanding), another reason why she was a popular girl at Lizzie's. The rain washed the remains of the night's sex from her exposed skin, as the sixteen year old clone was not taken to wearing anything besides a pair of black boots that reached just below her knee. It was common for boots, gloves, and other coverings having a seal to stop the rain from seeping in, at least leaving Argent's feet dry, even as rain soaked the rest of her body, leaving her stylishly unkept hair plastered to her forehead. Argent's boots had blue neon panels running down the sides, terminating at their low, well treaded low heels that allowed for traction, should she need to run.
She let out a shiver as she stepped into the church, its air conditioning hitting her wet body full blast, a feeling that she never got used to. A look of worry crossed her furrowed brow as the church was dark, not a single Neon Nun in sight. It wasn't the first time that the church was empty though, so she didn't think much more on it, making her way to the small room that the nuns gave her. She pulled a black towel that was hanging near the door and began to dry off before she dripped too much onto her floor. Once her body was dry, she walked up the single window in her room (which was not as bad as it sounded, as it took up the entire wall) and looked out onto the rain, neon, and advertising soaked cityscape, drying her hand and leaving it messy, draping the towel over her shoulder, the black fabric falling over her small, bare breasts, everything else in comfortable view as she never felt the need or desire to cover up.
Argent was created and raised by the Neon Nuns. Seventeen years prior, the nuns silently entered one of Los Angeles' many decrepit orphanages, looking like neon-lined ghosts to the kids inside. Five girls were chosen, ages ranging from two to fifteen years old, and genetic material pulled from their bodies: blood, saliva, and most painfully of all, spinal fluid. Six months later, the first of five clone babies emerged from her artificial womb. Each of the five was raised in one temple, separated from the others, not even knowing of their existance. Argent's upbringing was impersonal; In her sixteen years, she had never seen a Neon Nun's face. Unlike anybody else in the city though, she had seen their bodies and knew that they were human, with human urges.
Despite her quasi-religious secret society upbringing, Argent was... well, happy. Optimistic, even, a contrast to the dreary, always raining city. Even when, at the instruction of the Neon Nuns, Argent took a job at Lizzie's, a nearby dive and strip club, she retained an air of humor and joy, an attitude that made her a very popular girl there. Most (though not all) prostitutes were at the employ and mercy of madams and pimps, but Argent's connections to The Church of the Machine made her something of a free agent. Technically, it could be said that the church was her madam, but they were utterly hands-off, only making sure that Lizzy hired the teen, then leaving the nitty-gritty of her employ in their hands. Lizzie's was exclusive to the female gender, anybody who presented as female, including trans, shemale, and female-leaning non-binary. It dealt in alcohol and drugs, both legal and illegal, neither of which Argent partook in. Not out of any abstinance required by the church but instead, she just hated the taste of alcohol and the only drug high that she experienced made her incredibly sick, bed-ridden for days, the Neon Nuns' bedside manner being simply to leave water and cleansing pills on her nightstand every four hours. Absent them, her job was sex: stripping on stage, fucking Janes both inside and outside of the club, even the occassional escort job for upper-city girls in need of a date but without the time to go through proper corporate channels for one.
-------------------------------------
Iris West was a budding journalist, not yet jaded by the oppressive corruption in LA or the other walled cities and corporate enclaves around the world. Both arms and her right leg were mid-level cybernetic replacements. Because the news organization was able to foot most of the bill, they looked fairly lifelike with full range of motion and full sense of touch. She was jockeying for an eye replacement, under the reasoning that it would help with her investigative stories, but has been turned down thus far. Always seeking the truth and honestly rather annoyed by mysteries, the various churches piqued her curiosity, which was never a good thing.
She was going through some files given to her by a source of a source of a source, trying to make a shred of sense of what they said when something popped up: a shadow cloning program, deply illegal to all of the corporate overlords who believed that only the richest of the rich, those able to afford to live above the clouds, rain, and smog, should be permitted to experiment with. The fact that a church had such a program was, truthfully, not surprising, considering how they existed outside the law in so many aspects. The file contained DNA profiles of five women, four of whom were redacted by somebody in the chain of custody. The only name remaining was [your character].
Iris was friends with [your character], occassional lovers. Whether out of professional respect or personal requirement between friends, Iris wrapped the papers, sealed them in a security bag, and had her most trusted couier deliver them to [your character].
The evidence was easier for [your character] to decipher, leading the private investigator to the Church of the Machine. Apart from the infamous and creepy Neon Nuns, the church was mostly known for its search for a missing benevolent A.I., one who lost her battle against the corporations taking charge years ealier and having since disappeared. The church's goal (although nobody knew how this information got out, as the Neon Nuns were not at all talkative about it) was to find the A.I., called The Machine in their scriptures, in the hope that she would lead them to a new future, away from corporate influence. And yes, The Machine was always referred to as "she" in the scriptures. The Church was surprisingly dark and empty, its only light seen from outside coming from a small room, ten levels up.
----------------------
It was a typical December evening when Argent returned home from Lizzies, balmy in temperature, balanced by the ever-present rain, a result of global climate change kicking the planet's ass. Argent's body was one hundred percent natural without cybernetic enhancement (cloning origin notwithstanding), another reason why she was a popular girl at Lizzie's. The rain washed the remains of the night's sex from her exposed skin, as the sixteen year old clone was not taken to wearing anything besides a pair of black boots that reached just below her knee. It was common for boots, gloves, and other coverings having a seal to stop the rain from seeping in, at least leaving Argent's feet dry, even as rain soaked the rest of her body, leaving her stylishly unkept hair plastered to her forehead. Argent's boots had blue neon panels running down the sides, terminating at their low, well treaded low heels that allowed for traction, should she need to run.
She let out a shiver as she stepped into the church, its air conditioning hitting her wet body full blast, a feeling that she never got used to. A look of worry crossed her furrowed brow as the church was dark, not a single Neon Nun in sight. It wasn't the first time that the church was empty though, so she didn't think much more on it, making her way to the small room that the nuns gave her. She pulled a black towel that was hanging near the door and began to dry off before she dripped too much onto her floor. Once her body was dry, she walked up the single window in her room (which was not as bad as it sounded, as it took up the entire wall) and looked out onto the rain, neon, and advertising soaked cityscape, drying her hand and leaving it messy, draping the towel over her shoulder, the black fabric falling over her small, bare breasts, everything else in comfortable view as she never felt the need or desire to cover up.
Here is my F-List (NSFW)
Play-bys/Face-claims for my character are either Olga Kurylenko or Krysten Ritter.
Last edited: