RPG Stranded II: The Game [M-LV]

[Blayze]

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[center][font=Lucida Sans Unicode][b][u]Stranded II: The Game

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In the early 21st Century, the world got to a point where it was entirely hooked on reality TV. Every nation in the world had its own, from Big Brother in the UK, to Survivor and The Amazing Race in the USA, and almost every man, woman and child was addicted to these shows. They would rush in from school and work to catch up on the latest, they would watch live footage on the internet, and sometimes they would even skip work and school to watch the live footage on the television.

So, in 2019, the United Nations decided to use this powerful media tool to their own advantage. They composed their own reality TV show which would capture the hearts and minds of every single person across the globe. Taking elements of many other shows, they combined them all to create a show that, while entertaining billions of people, would also take care of other problems.

It was simply known as "The Game," and the contestants had no idea they were playing it. They were dumped on a desert island after being given a serum to induce an amnesia that would last for up to three weeks depending on the person, and left to fend for themselves.

The last person surviving would be the winner. But there were obstacles, both man-made and natural, to keep them occupied. But they would discover this in time...

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[i]Welcome to The Game, Phil...

[/i]The message stared up at him from his forearm, written in spiky, archaic text.

[b][i]The Game? [/i][/b]he wondered, [b][i]What does this mean?

[/i][/b]He rolled the sleeve back down over his forearm, hiding the strange message, and walked across the beautiful white sand to the glimmering blue ocean, and sank to his knees at the shoreline.

He couldn't remember anything. He knew his name was Phil, but that was everything he knew about himself. He didn't know who he really was, where he was or what he was doing there. Everything was a mystery to him. He clutched his head as sharp pains ran through it. He sank further down towards the beach, and coughed, more blood splattering from his lungs onto the sand. There was something really wrong about his lungs. Maybe he had an infection or something...

He looked down into the crystal-blue water, and saw his own reflection. His hair was dark brown and his eyes were the same clear blue as the sky. A layer of stubble had formed on his chin, and his skin was bronzed from the sun. There was a long, thin scar running from his hairline, down the left side of his face, stopping at his cheekbone. He stared at his reflection, and suddenly realised why the tattoo on his chest had made no sense before.

It was a mirror image.

He could see the words, as clearly as it was possible in a constantly-moving ocean.

[/font][i][font=Lucida Sans Unicode]Then shalt thou bring forth that man or that woman, who have committed that wicked thing, unto thy gates and shalt stone them with stones, till they die.

Remember it.

[/font][/i][font=Lucida Sans Unicode]Even though the words now made sense to him, the phrase itself had no meaning to him whatsoever. He thought it could be some kind of Biblical reference, but as he read the words over and over again, he still could not understand them.

[b]"Having trouble, friend?" [/b]asked a friendly-sounding voice suddenly from behind him...

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Alrighty, guys, this is it. I'm looking for something similar to this post for each of your first posts. Just try to get your bearings in an unfamiliar place. And anyone who wants to be can be the person behind Phil.

Enjoy!
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[Allamorph]

[FONT=Arial][I]"Welcome to the Game, Marcus."[/I]

"The Game?" he spoke aloud for the first time. "What game?" He remembered his name, then. He was Marcus?how could he have forgotten? Of course, there wasn't a lot he actually [U]could[/U] remember right now....

The thought of his name gave him a peculiar feeling inside, like something within his head was nudging around, trying to make its presence known; he was unable to pin down what it was, though, despite any amount of conscious mental effort on his part. The instant he felt a cogent thought emerging, it would evaporate, leaving him with nothing but his name all over again. Marcus stood frozen in the ocean's tide for several minutes like this, wrestling internally with whatever it was that didn't quite want to completely reveal itself to him. Gradually, though, he became aware of an unpleasant heat on the back of his neck, and it occured to him that he might want to get out of the sun. He turned his back on the sea and began striding out of the water and across the powdery white sand, heading for the foliage bordering the beach.

Something blue just inside his left eye's field of vision caught his attention, and he veered from his path to investigate. It was a baseball cap, he realized?it was lying near where he had come to, so it must be his. He didn't see anyone else around whom the hat might have belonged to. He didn't see anyone else at all, for that matter.

The cap was royal blue with two lime-green stripes on the brim. The stripes curved in towards the brim's center slightly, coming to a point about an inch apart from each other. On the front of the cap a large blue and green 'P' was embroidered with a black border around it, and a green and black hooded serpent lay coiled around the letter's base, rising from behind to thrust its head through the letter's open space.

The ball cap failed to remind Marcus of anything, so he put it on without giving further thought to its significance; it fit snugly, proof that he had worn it before. Thus armed, he entered the shade of the island's forest.

Without any other clues about him or his past presenting themselves, his thoughts turned to the problem of [U]where[/U] he was, and why. Aside from the obvious answer of "deserted island", he knew nothing. He knew nothing of the island's size, it's shape, whether or not it had any edible food, and, most importantly, whether or not there were dangerous animals lurking about. With nothing to defend himself, he was forced to admit that he was not likely to survive an attack from a hungry predator. Marcus quickly decided to stay close to the forest's edge.

Why he was here was a different matter. From the paper, he knew that he was involved in some sort of game. Since the paper had also given him his name, he assumed that there were others on the island as well, participating in the same Game as him. He also decided to assume that there must be food around somewhere, since a game where the player starved to death wouldn't have much of a point.

Marcus resolved to search for other 'players'. Maybe they'd have some answers for him; at any rate, company would probably increase their odds of ... well, of doing whatever it was they were supposed to be doing. He continued trudging through the island's trees and shrubs.
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[indent][B]OOC:[/B] Right. If anyone wishes to run into Marcus, please do so. Otherwise, I might actually have to come up with a destination for the man, ha ha. (^_^)[/indent][/FONT]