RPG The End Times (WARNING: Adult themes, no kiddies please!)

[Mnemolth]

[b]DISCLAIMER:[/b] This game is designed and made for young adults. If you are BELOW the age of 15, it is NOT suitable for you. Please leave. There are plenty of OTHER games you can join.

Greetings fellow travellers on this weary road of the world. I bid you welcome!

I bring you a game that should be challenging and fun. Not to mention just a little bit dangerous.

This game can be difficult, it requires discipline, creativity, skill and more than an ounce of luck.

If you are one of those people whose only RPG entertainment comes from creating and playing invincible god-like characters, then maybe this is not the game for you.

Far from being immortal, there is every chance you will die. Blood seeps from the veins of every character in this game, so if you have a problem with death or dying, then maybe this is not the game for you.

This game has two separate but equally important components. Strategic thinking and planning, and creative writing prowess. This is a chess game with your mind, and the stake is the life of your character; the reward, the opportunity to pen a work of murder and mayhem, blood and butchery, and of being enthralled in the ecstacy of power (or trapped in the shame of humiliation).

Your mind does not need to be a steel trap but it does need to do a little bit of number crunching, especially if you survive into later rounds. To get the best out of this game you need to enjoy out-thinking people, and to liven things its probably best you have a hint of a mean streak. Collusion and betrayal is not only allowed, it is encouraged.

This is not a game for the light of heart or the squeamish. It can be tough and unforgiving. So if you have any qualms about killing off friends and comrades in a game environment, then maybe this is not the game for you.

If your number skills are so bad that you can't add two and two together, then maybe this is not the game for you.

If your writing skills are so bad you can't write a creative paragraph to save your life, then maybe this is not the game for you.

But if you can do a few numbers in your head, and your creative writing skills are competent, then I entreat you to join me in this experiment in carnage.

For information regarding the actual game itself, the background and the rules, and to register your interest please see the Sign Up forum.


[b]Prelude...[/b]

He was in her before she knew it. He tore into her like a runaway train. Powerful, strong, unrelenting. Sharp, searing pain flooded her mind, pain the likes of which she had never felt before, or imagined possible. And yet. In the pain there was pleasure. Sick, twisted and malevolent. Like him. It made her want him more than anything in the world. He [i]was[/i] her world. Nothing else existed except his arms and shoulders. She can feel his muscles move, deliberate, confident. They were toned, a captivating mixture of flesh and sinew rather than the hard granite of someone who had spent too much time in the gym. His lips supple and sweet, like honey. His eyes, oh God, his eyes, she could fall into those wells and never climb out. He ravaged and plundered her like he had her father's company. He had cut it to pieces, like he was now cutting her in two. But she no longer cared. He had emblazoned her mind with the imprint of his pain, marking her forever as his property. She did not resist.

John Turnbull ploughed into the beautiful young woman with joy and satisfaction. She was half his age. Her skin was flawless and her body soft and yielding. She was a pampered wench, the favoured daughter of a rich businessman. He had destroyed her father, and now he would take the last thing of value to him.

John knew at an early age he was not like other people. As a child he learned he could do things with his mind that other people could not. First it had been his studies. He excelled and was without peer. He could remember and understand things better than anyone else, even some of his teachers. Later he learnt he could read people, knew their feelings and mood, as if they were a book in large print. He began manipulating people indirectly, pitting one against another for his benefit.

After his university studies, and as he grew older he found out his talents allowed him to do much more. He could read their minds and their thoughts, and what's more, he could control them.

That was the secret to his renown business acumen and his unrivalled entrepreneurial success. He realised he was destined for something greater than anyone that had come before him. The world was his for the taking, along with everyone and everything else in it.

Yet lately he had felt something stir in him, something distracting him from his affairs and his work. It began as a little emptiness, and now it had grown to an uncontrollable hunger. He ate the best foods, in vast quantities. He took women as he pleased. He crushed and humiliated his enemies at his leisure, and although he enjoyed all his triumphs, the hunger remained. Persistent and unsatisfied.

Something had awakened in him, an ancient and primal urge. His mind was filled with thoughts of murder and mayhem. He had sought out violent sports to no avail. In the end he had even beaten men and women to a pulp to try and quench the bloodlust but it would not be satisfied.

He searched the world for answers. And he found them in the occult. It had cost him half his fortune, and the lives of many of those in his employment, but at last he knew what had to be done.

It seems he was afflicted with "the Hunger". A terrible want for blood, but not normal blood. Demon blood. It seems there were others like him in the world. Creatures beyond the natural. He did not know how many, or where they were, but now he understood they were out there and that he had to find them.

And so it was that he met Mr. Chu, the most powerful media magnate in East Asia. Mr. Chu had amassed an empire that sprawled from Japan to China to Indonesia. A vast conglomerate that controlled everything from television, films, music, telecommunications, and not a small army of politicians. It was said that Mr. Chu was old, very [i]very[/i] old, but no one seemed to know [i]exactly[/i] how old.

When he met the reclusive tycoon he instantly felt a familiarity he had never known before. Here was someone like him. Someone who did not play by the common laws of nature. As he sat down with Mr. Chu going over a business proposition, he realised he had found what he was looking for. Blood to quench his thirst.

The battle was long and hard. The old man's mind was unlike any he had come across. It was criss-crossed with defenses beyond the realm of mortal men. Over two centuries Mr. Chu had walked under the moonlight on the streets of the world feeding on its unsuspecting humans. Age had not weaken him. In fact it made him even stronger.

John lashed a mind probe forward, symbols of control to implant in Mr. Chu's brain. But the old man was ready. He bit hard on his own tongue so that the blazing pain would be redirected back at John. The sensation overwhelmed John. He staggered back clutching his head, shaking it violently as if to dislodge some unseen animal drilling into his skull.

Mr. Chu advanced towards him, his mouth dripping of his own blood, his fangs unsheathed. John fell to his knees. Mr. Chu grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, lifted him up and was just about to lunge for his throat when John lifted his head to level his gaze at the old man. John mustered all his control and screamed a wail of rage. It was a nightmarish screech terrifying to behold, and it threw Mr. Chu across the room and smashed him against the opposite wall.

The old man was stunned. So much [i]power[/i] unleashed with a mere thought. This ghost walker was indeed strong. For the first time in his long life, Mr. Chu felt fear. As he struggled to get to his feet, John had already reached inside his pocket to produce a thin but deadly piece of sharpened wood. He had guessed the secret to Mr. Chu's longevity before he arrived. Now in one quick smooth motion he threw it with practised ease, aimed directly at the old man's heart. Too late Mr. Chu saw the stake flying toward him. In a reflex action he deflected it with his mind. It was the last mistake he would make. For in that split second he left his mind vulnerable. It was all John needed to slip through, implant his seeds of control and completely obliterate all of Mr. Chu's mental defenses.

John left the old man's identity intact, so that he would suffer with knowledge of what was being done to him and his family. He had forced Mr. Chu to call for his wife in his bedroom. When she arrived he made Mr. Chu gutter her with a kitchen knife. He then had the old man call his one and only daughter. John had Mr. Chu stand there helplessly watching as John took the last thing of value from him.

John shot his seed into the girl with a grunt. Without a word he got up, took the knife from Mr. Chu and looked back down at the girl he had so violently violated. His hands reached to caress her face gently, soothingly, his fingers tracing the outline of her nose, eyes and cheeks. She looked up at him with so much love that it made him smile. Then he casually slid the blade across her throat. She did not make a single sound as her life seeped from her. On the bed stand was that sliver of wood he had brought here with him. John grabbed it and thrust it into the heart of Mr. Chu. The old man gasped and fell silently onto the blood drenched bed next to his beloved daughter.

John took one last look around the blood bathed room and was pleased with the carnage he had wrought. He closed his eyes, focused his mind, and tapped into the dissipating energy of Mr. Chu. He happily fed until he was full. At last he was satisfied. At least for the moment.