NationStates Jolt Archive


(Open RP) Bile and Hatred in South Lemon

Skittletopia
18-02-2006, 18:45
Lemon, the capital of Skittletopia. A shining and glorious testament to the nation where spain and ireland amalghorised and created something greater than the sum of the two parts. A city where noone speaks less than three languages, Tourists feel loved, and have plenty to gawp at. The squat, modern art-deco business centres blending serenely with the moorish and gothic buildings of the government. This paradise, this heaven, Ends abruptly in South Lemon.

South Lemon is the vestigal, malignant syamese twin of Lemon. A sweaty jungle butt-hole of a city. Tacky and neon, packed with casinos and houses of ill repute. The only place in the world where you can buy exploding 12-gauge, multiple seventeen year old lilliputlian hookers and a frisco speedball without leaving a casino.

An international newspaper, the End Times, has sent a number of journalists on assignment to South Lemon, in search of the Essence of Skittletopia. With an astronomical, no-questions-asked expenses budget, a new SkiCi laptop with the works, vehicle rental and your choice of hotel reservations.

(OOC: Please post a character description, Journalists are what i'm looking for, but if you want to be a local mafiosto, dealer or whatever, be my guest :) I'll go into more detail about my lil town after i've grabbed some interest)
The Marxist State
18-02-2006, 20:49
(I'll be a casino owner in South Lemon)
The Zombie Alliance
19-02-2006, 20:05
Daylaa stepped out of the airport parking lot and looked about him. It was a rathole. It was...well it was whatever the NSer playing as Skittleopia says it is. It's almost as bad as my parents' bone-frame house, thought the young zombiefied reporter.

He smiled to himself as he said, "This will make an eeexxxalent story. Haha...hahaha...MWAHAHAHAHAAA!!!"
Skittletopia
12-03-2006, 18:26
Jackson was sat in a little cafe-bar sharing brunch with his Zen master

"So I gets a call this morning and apparently the paper is bringing a buttload of foreign hicks to my home town to write about tourism"

"Phht well as your spiritual leader alls I have to suggest is beating them to the press with your own cock and bull yarn. Maybe meet a few of these saps, spread libellous rumours about their activities and make sure they don't write on so much as a coffee-stained post-it-note ever again."

"Wise."

"And we're going to need a lot of journalistic shit. real state of the art stuff"

Jackson held up a slick mont blanc pen and a notebook "Check."

"And this is a dangerous mission. Somebody could get hurt. We're going to need a pretty decent arsenal"

"Okay," *flips the notebook open* Whatcha thinking

XSSAR-22 carbines: 2, Some of those huge bastard hunting revolvers that Steve O'Steer keeps jacking off over in his shitty column: 4"

"Hey remember when we"

*together* "Filled his mother up with helium"

*both laugh crazilly*

"And then *wheeze* with the bowie knife and the *wheeze* tortoise"

"Good times" Jackson wipes a tear and the Zen guy continues

"Anyhoo I say a dozen or so grenades: Assorted flavours"

"Good call!"

"An assault shotgun. 12 gague, full auto of course. With HE shells, Dragon's breath, buckshot, ooh And handload some rock salt."

Jackson gives a crazed salute and begins rolling a joint

"two SMG's. Get them fucked up good and proper by a smith, I want drum mags, and a cyclic RPM faster than either of us jerk off"

"and Medicine. Lots and lots of Medicine."

By the end of the weekend Jackson and his friend had managed to scrape together a terrabyte of pornography, two barrels of fine bavarian ale, four bottles rum, A military spec humvee-type vehicle, Everything on the firearm wishlist, A beautiful green mechanical typewriter with a "Revolution" sticker with the letters "evol" mirrored to say "Love" in red ink, an a3 sized sheet of blotter acid, a salt-shaker of coke, 2 ounces of grass, 200 cigarettes, an oriental hookah pipe, a large brick of opium, some mescaline, Intelligence enhancers, Vicodin, a complimentary goodie bag full of multicoloured pills made from god-knows-what, Something that looked like a dried up tenticle, a humidour of cubans, some paracetamoxyfusibendroneomycin, a hawaiin shirt for every day of the week and more besides that shall be revealed later. To top it all off, from God only knows where Jackson had got hold of a brick of C4 and the Zen guy was amusing himself by shaping it into larger and larger representations of a certain part of the male anatomy. The entire 23rd floor of the De Sade Memorial Hotel had been booked and they were on the road, joy in their hearts, fried food in their bellies and a blazing desire for the truth in their colons.
The Zombie Alliance
12-03-2006, 21:55
Daylaa (http://www.chetzar.com/files/zombie.jpg) saw the loaded car and immediatly chased after it. "Stoooooop!!!! I-want-ta-talk-ta-ya!(gasp)" he shouted, running out of breath, "Im-a-re....(huf,huf)....porter!" With his last ounce of energy leaped onto the moving vehicle.
Skittletopia
13-03-2006, 15:21
"Holy dogshit It's a zombie!" screeched Jackson, scrambing for a bludgeon or a firearm

"Whaaaa?"

"My voudon mother told me about these guys. Quick! I need a stake, some garlic and a lit cigar"

The zen master scrambled around in a pack looking for stuff of that ilk"

"Wait, those first two are vampires, aren't they? and that last one is uhh..."
"Lice"

"Yeah yeah, Shit isn't there a rhyme about this?"

"Uhh water water everywhere but not a drop to..."

"I'M A REPORTER!" declaired the nervous looking zombie

"Wha?"

the Zen master had chanced upon a toothpick and a tube of garlic paste and Jackson squirted it liberally over the toothpick and brandished it like a dagger around the zombie's groin

"Is that true, Kid? are you a Jorunalist? Do you have the gonzo spirit and joy in your heart for this great city, dispite looking like a tim burton extra? Zombie or no, we respect that."

Jackson held out his hand for a shake just as the vehicle squashed a bush, making the toothpick Jolt dangerously close to the Zombie's groin. "AAAH!" Jackson dropped it in time, his reactions enhanced by several uppers. he held his hands out non threateningly then he offered Daylaa his flask, which smelled strongly of rum almost moreso than Jackson himself...
Skittletopia
13-03-2006, 15:27
OOC: If anyone fancies joining in then I'm quite obviously going for a fear and loathing type theme. If you want to get a picture of where we are picture a seedier vegas in a nation where people think you're a bit weird if you don't carry a gun and narcotics are legal. Except rather than a desert the whole place is just chopped into a dense, humid rainforest. Ya. Also this place isn't really mapped out in my head at all so you can add whatever you want, make up hotels, casinos, sideshows, gangs, narcotics whole frigging areas if you wish. Ya. Tech is near'ish future.
Skittletopia
21-03-2006, 18:18
Bump :(