Rpg

[Gizmo]

28:12 "Son of man, take up a lamentation for the king of Tyre, and say to him, 'Thus says the Lord God: "You were the seal of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty. 13 You were in Eden, the garden of God; every precious stone was your covering: The sardius, topaz, and diamond, beryl, onyx, and jasper, sapphire, turquoise, and emerald with gold. The workmanship of your timbrels and pipes was prepared for you on the day you were created. 14 You were the anointed cherub who covers; I established you; you were on the holy mountain of God; you walked back and forth in the midst of fiery stones. 15 You were perfect in your ways from the day you were created, till iniquity was found in you. 16 By the abundance of your trading you became filled with violence within, and you sinned; therefore I cast you as a profane thing out of the mountain of God; and I destroyed you, O covering cherub, from the midst of the fiery stones. 17 Your heart was lifted up because of your beauty; you corrupted your wisdom for the sake of your splendor . . ."
- Ezekiel


Slowly, you regain consciousness.

It`s dark, you are lying prostrate on your back, although where you are is a mystery - something is lying on top of you, both obscuring your vision and pinning you down; it`s a dead, soggy weight on your chest and as you come round your realise your nostrils are being assaulted by overwhelming stench of decay. Vainly you struggle to shift the weight above you, but your arms are inexplicably weak and can only push ineffectually against the mass. Starting to panic now, a reflexive kick lashes out and finally dislodges the burden and it rolls away to one side.

Blinding light.

It sears your eyes and forces you to clamp your hands over your face to protect them. Slowly and painfully you get to your feet, but with your eyes shut your first staggering step forwards sends you tumbling fowards down a steep incline, a mixture of jagged edges and soft lumps, until you roll to a halt on a hard, dusty ground. Tentatively you open your eyes a second time, and this time with your face turned from the sun you they slowly adjust and enable you to take in your surroundings a little more, although your initial disorientation is still great.
The floor below you is covered with a fine grey dust, riven by wide tyre tracks, around you are several small hills each standing at least a hundred feet tall and made entirely of all kinds of garbage - food scraps and old peelings burst forth from the bags that had contained them and are being pecked over by flocks of dirty seagulls who tread carefully between the carcasses of thousands of discarded cans and trashed televisions, fridges, cookers and the like. You stand slowly and stiffly to get a better look around - the sun, even in this cloudy sky, is unbearably bright and reflects painfully off the fragments of broken bottles that lie all around you, the air is filled with the excited squeals of the Gulls and in the far distance you hear the throb of a powerful diesel engine, and now that you are not buried under the rotting food the stench of decay is a little less invasive, and whilst the smell is still far from pleasant it lingers rather than assaults. Although your view of the horizon is obcured by the mountains of waste that surround you the very tips of mighty skyscrapers can be seen rising above them in the distance.

The realisation suddenly hits you that you have no real idea of how in hell you ended up here, neither do you have any real idea where the hell here is.

More pressingly, you realise you haven`t got any real idea of who the hell you are.

 

[DÛke]

...

Standing in daylight, you look around, as if you’re asking the surrounding environment itself to aid you to your identity. You stand there for a while, arriving at no clear answer, you decide to perhaps roam for a while – it can’t hurt you, not if you don’t know where the hell you belong.

The sky is bright, and the wind makes a blustering sound every now and then. You decide to roam to the apparent city that is close by. Maybe you will be emblazed in a recall; perhaps a new clue will unhide.

You look around the mass of garbage, visualizing a trail leading you out of this disgusting place, and into the near by civilization.

With a void mind, you slowly take your steps hoping you reach your destination before an engrossing encounter...

 

[Gizmo]

Oops, looks like Duke (and possibly everybody else) ahs got the wrong idea of what I intended. Check out the 'CPA RPG?' thread for more guidance on what I hoped would happen.

 

[Sammy Dead-O]

What can I make of the mass that was pinning me down? Do I recognize it?

 

[DÛke]

...personally, I don't care about the mass that was pinning me down, if I'm up and alive, I need to get out of this dumb. Is there anything engrossing in this garbage?

 

[sageridder]

couple of questions,maybe we can figure out a little about ourself here.What kind of clothing are we wearing,do we have a wallet or military id tags?Do we seem to have an injury from before the header we just took,like a bump on the head or the like?Is the mechanical sound moving towards us.If so since we do not know if the sound is friend or foe, if it is moving towards i suggest we move to a point we can observe it from consealment.And be prepaired to move.

 

[Gizmo]

There is a heavy-looking bag of garbage lying a few yards away to your left, from the way it`s contents have spilled out across the floor it seems likely that was what had you had been lying under, and that it split open as it tumbled from the heap. Otherwise garbage is pretty much garbage.

You are still pretty stiff from your fall, but there doesn`t appear to be anything seriously broken - you`ll probably have a really nice bruise on your back in the morning, but otherwise you seem to be remarkably unscathed by either the fall, or whatever it was that left you in the dump in the first place.
You dust yourself off a little, although it looks like the time spent unconscious in the trash was a little less kind on your clothes than it was on you. You are wearing simple black shoes, pretty new and nice but now covered in various pastel shades of scum. Your pants are dark blue jeans, quite comprehensively creased but otherwise undamaged, and you are wearing a simple black T-Shirt and a waist-length leather jacket - looks like you really liked this jacket because it`s showing plenty of signs of frequent wear.

But you do have a wallet.

Inside there are various cash and credit cards, and about $90 in various bills. There is also a driver`s licence - the face looks familiar (a quick check in the nearest piece of reflective metal shows that it`s you, only the picture was taken at a time when you hadn`t been lying in trash all night) but the name on it means nothing to you - Paul Kirkland. The address on the licence is similarly meaningless - 532 Washington Avenue. Otherwise there are no personal items of any kind either inside your wallet or anywhere else on your person. There is a very small and obviously expensive mobile phone in your jacket pocket, but that doesn`t seem to have survived the fall and is a smashed up very badly.

Moving forwards about fifty yards you come to the corner of between two piles of rubbish, the engine sound is much louder now, and as you peer around the corner you see that is is coming from an extremely large yellow bulldozer. It is on a plain of garbage that must be at least a mile in each direction, and the bulldozer is shovelling the garbage into piles like the one you woke up in. From here, with your view no longer obsucred by the hills of trash you can see that you are on a large island, seperated from most of the city by a wide river, although there seems to be several road bridges between the two land masses.

Despite the fact that the sun is low in the sky, it is already feeling like it will be a very warm day.

 

[DÛke]

...hmmm. Interesting.

I have no idea where I'm at, right? Ok...

...I think I'll walk to the bridges, and see if I could find a way to find out more information about this place by asking passangers and such. I think that if I'm even close enough to the address listed in my wallet, I could find out a way to get there, and maybe find out more information about myself...more information about what has happened, how, and why...

 

[sageridder]

I would suggest that wet is less offencive than covered in scum and stink.Perhapse we should get to edge of the water,hide wallet and dunk into water quickly then retrive wallet.If someone coated in trash tried to flag you down you might not stop,and it gives us a cover story that we fell overboard from a ship.I'm thinking we should try to hail a cab once out of the landfill on the city side.Mabey our apartment could provide some idea what's going on.On the phone could we remove the battery,perhapse the phone # or some other info is written inside.

 

[Gizmo]

It`s quite a trek to the entrance to the dump, and it takes at least twenty minutes of clambering over crap that nobody wants before you get there. On the way you fiddle with the phone a little but the thing ipractically falls apart in your hands, whatever happened to it the phone is not going to be any help to you. Unsurprisingly the dump is positioned in a pretty run down part of the city - the buildings here all date back a good hundred years and are covered in graffiti, a burnt out car is parked at the bottom of the street, where a wire mesh fence stands between you and the river. There aren`t many people about - this doesn`t look like the sort of place where you`d want to be casually strolling around, even in the middle of the day. A battered old railcar thunders slowly overhead and on over the river, but there doesn`t seem to be any taxi`s around.

Man, your back hurts like HELL! It`s really stiff.

It`s extremely disconcerting, wandering through a place with no way of knowing where you are, or where you`re going - nothing is familiar and there is a palpable sense of being disconnected from the rest of the world. Any one of those houses could be your house, any one of those cars could be your car, you could know any or all of the people you briefly make eye contact with before they look away and do their best not to get involved in somebody else`s business.

A hundred yards up the road is a stairway leading to a raised rail station, and there is a callbox just outside it - unsurprisingly it`s been vandalised and doesn`t work. Looks like this area is fairly low down on the phone company`s list of repair priorities. The clock outside the station reads 10:32, so it`s midmorning and long past the work rush hour, assuming anybody in this area actually has a job, so the station looks pretty much deserted - although there are plenty of ways of getting across to the main city, this seems to be the most obvious one and the one that will involve least wandering through an unfriendly part of town.

 

[Gizmo]

You wander onto the station platform and before long a train rumbles into view, and along with only a couple of other people you board the train - even in your current state of disrepair you don`t look very out of place amongst your fellow passengers. Although it is a very warm day, uncomfortably so even, everybody is wearing thick winter clothing and a few are even wearing gloves - they must be extremely uncomfortable under all those layers.

The river passes below you - from your vantage point on the train here you can see that it must be a good half a mile wide and a light amount of industrial traffic is passing below you.

Soo the far shore is under your wheels, and the train grinds to a halt besides a platform crammed full of people - not knowing where you are any station on this side of the river seems as good as any and you jump off into the hustle and bustle of a heaving metropolitan station, people jostling you on all sides as they hurry about their business, and you seek shelter by a nearby wall until the rush for the train dies down somewhat.

You are in a warehouse, lying facedown on the freezing concrete floor with your arms bound behind your back. There are a few voices, deep and male, speaking but you can`t make out what they are saying and you cannot crane your neck enough to see who they are coming from - the voices are fuzzy, as though they are being heard through a wall and yet you know that they are only yards behind you. Everything seems very slow, and your movements are sluggish, as though you are extremely drunk.
The voices suddenly become raised in anger, then are immediately cut off by another voice, female and used to having orders followed.
There are a few short clicks of heel on the floor and then a woman appears in your view, although you struggle to focus on her and she swims in your vision. She is extremely beautiful - tall, slender and raven-haired, and she fixes you with eyes that, even though you can`t see them you know are emerald green. Her voice comes clear as crystal through the haze of your perception, as though you are in tune only with her and everything else is out of focus, a perfect English accent:
"Goodbye, Mr Kirkland. Possibly we will have the opportunity to work together again in the future," she looks over your shoulder to the men you cannot see, and you hear the clicks of rounds being chambered, "although I doubt it"

You stagger forwards, just catching yourself from falling completely by grabbing the metal arm of a frame chair on the platform - a few people look at you very strangely, obviously startled by your sudden stumble, then quickly go about their lives as soon as you look at them.

 

[Spiderman]

Seeing how everyone else stopped posting, maybe I can make this guy mine...

I'll try to search for a phone book and/or map to see if there's the address 532 Washington Avenue in there.