U.S.C.M Retribution

Started by KazMartell, 04-07-2014

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-- While we wait for the roster to fill out and the administrative staff to get their stuff together, I've decided to open our first official IC area for the players. Since they're all currently interred on the Retribution, your characters are going to be a bit limited to what they are allowed to do.

That said, please use this area to get your characters in character as it were, and get to know eachother. I or another Moderator will make an NPC post if it's necessary, but otherwise don't abuse the NPCs much; you're prisoners right now after all. --

The U.S.M.C Retribution is a large vessel carrying dozens of prisoners from one penal colony to another. In the experience of those who have suffered such journeys before, there seems to be little to no rhyme or reason to the transfers.

In some cases it's because a riot nearly destroyed (or successfully took over) the previous colony. Other times it's just because the guards are bored of the current outpost, and happen to need to stay with specific inmates.

Whatever the cause, the prisoners are being transferred yet again.

None of them know much about the ship beyond the few areas they're allowed access; namely their cells, the mess hall, a small 'open' area, and the gym/shower complex. All of them are under constant surveillance, or armed guard.


Mess hall

Cell blocks

Black doors are time locked exempting the one with the "Do not enter" sign, that one nobody recalls ever being opened.

Black doors timelocks can be overridden with the nearby fingerprint scanners by USMC personnel and also opened and locked by the dedicated occupants, this is for safety reasons, note that fingerprint scanners are only on the outside of doors.

Black doors do in fact have a porthole to which one can see both in and out, blocking the porthole is a segregate worthy offense.

Although the sleeping arrangements have males and females segregated, the daily activities are intermixed.

Ship doors are controlled elsewhere in the ship and only open to let USMC personnel in and out, protected by a live electrical barrier.

Personnel are always present when prisoners are outside cells, usually two on the floor and two in the rafters.

If Personnel or other prisoners are attacked, an alarm will sound resulting in everyone's immediate detention for the rest of the day and possible segregation in solitary confinement.

Prisoners are let out to eat, bathe and exercise.

Basic food is left inside the crates before prisoners are released for their daily activities and are expected to make their own meals from the ingredients provided.

Although the prisoners would only speculate, USMC personnel do in fact bet on the daily ball game.

All prisoners are fitted with standard issue orange jumpsuits.


"Rise and shine cupcake" a gruff male voice chimes over the P.A. system, "Time for another glorious day aboard the S.S. Retribution" the male voice jested as the lights inside the cells flickered on and the obnoxiously loud doors slid open.

"F-food's ready" a meek sounding male individual squeaked out from outside the door, "D-d-don't wanna let the ahh-others take all the good s-s-stuff now d-do ya?" he stuttered, though not from fear, it sounded as if it were uncontrollable.

The U.S.M.C peeked his head through the opening, looking over the hard metal beds for any signs of life within, The man was 5'5", boney looking, hat and hung loosely off him as if he were some macabre walking clothes hanger, the human had no signs of any facial hair and it made him look barely into his teens, despite the odd pimple here and there, one had to question what he was doing on board a prison vessel.

"C-c-c'mon.. Ahh can't carry you.. G-gotta make sure everyone's ssss-still alive in here."


Doctor Doherty; laid back down on the bottom bunk raises his head slightly issuing a disapproving glare through his sleep filled eyes at the 'kid'. He opens his mouth to speak but chooses to bite his tongue instead offering a slight good morning nod before laying his head back against the bunk.

Grunting; he raises his hands to his eyes to sweep them clear before groggily addressing the U.S.C.M Guard in a semi-laughable tone: "Bacon and egg? Mine's a tea-two."

ref_DevCon.smd: david star is the only heir of the ecologist throne
ref_DevCon.smd: house of blake
"Any of you fucking pricks move, and I'll execute every motherfucking last one of ya!"


Billy the 'kid' replied with a weak and somewhat forced laugh, "Sounds good, I'll take one aswell" he jokingly stated as he gestured a playful gunshot hand signal towards him. The kid gave a quick sweep of the cell internals before ending up ascending he stairwell to check on the other two cells which had already opened.

Across from the Doc's cell was the last remaining door, locked firmly shut with an ominous red sign stating it shall remain as such, it sported a darkened interior through the port hole and a fresh claw mark had damaged the impervium glass on the inside of the cell, though on closer inspection it appeared to be something more than a mindless scratch, it looked like a symbol, an obviously alien one but it had been carefully etched into the glass.


Sir Perthiam's idle sequence terminated as his subaural sensors keyed in the sounds of the Wizard dialect coming from below. Scent detectors registered the questionable aromas of wizard unguents, cooked eggs, pig grease and cloying despair. His mechanical body assumed a 90 degree angle as his system came out of sleep mode and his co-processors warmed up.

These sorcerers have such a strange way of speaking.

He processed their dichotomy idly as he walked over to the porcelain refuse ejection device and began to drain excess Lorrentz fluid from his decombinator drive. After finishing his pressure reduction ceremony and polishing the fine silver hair-piece upon his cranial containment array he approached the door.

Sir Perthiam primed his audial output and began to do his best to inquire upon the state of the morning meal.

"Haile, Magus of Merkenesse Hæhst, fir wat kene smul brayden myn hungær? Langmode nahtes gar a Kniȝt's mayn æn mawe."


The 'kid's expression of a playful toothy grin slowly melted away as he was addressed, his walk slowed down as his expression turned to one of confusion.

Time seemed to slow as the cogs inside his human head grinded to an abrupt halt due to the fact that he simply couldn't comprehend what had just been said.

"H-hey, yer translator actin' up again droid?" he asked as his pace picked up again while his feet carried him passed Sir Perthiam, "We'll g-g-getcha fixed up no problem." he continued on pleasently, toothy grin returning as he checked over the other hanging plates that were comically referred to as beds.