NationStates Jolt Archive

The Mad Lands

Last contestant standing of last season with our theme song accompanying his death. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cGPY3tIrVkw&fmt=18)

From the geniuses at the Grand World Order Federal Broadcasting Syndicate (The rival of the Grand World Order Broadcasting Studios) comes The Mad Lands.

The Mad Lands is a game show in which the contestants are either contestants who signed up, malcontents, or convicted criminals. The show takes place in different parts of the Order every season; this season, it will take place in the radioactive Black Forest of Iron Province. Their goal is to find a medal we have placed in the region; the medal is an imitation ruby and jet studded Iron Cross enclosed in a circle (Like a US Marshals badge) with the words "I SURVIVED THE WILDERNESS" stamped on the circle. Meanwhile, the FBS will have helicopters and satellites provide video and audio (Through laser microphones and microphones sewed into the OD jumpsuits contestants wear) coverage.

Unfortunately for them, slews of mutants and radioactivity will try to stop them. Here is the complete inventory of a standard contestant-

-MI-P45 Handgun
-Six 20-round magazines
-A pistol belt to hold magazines and holster
-Medical Kit
-Kampfmesser 2000 knife
-A few MREs to start; this will not last long if relied on
-A GP-5 Gas Mask to provide basic protection against light radiation
-A waterproof Olive Drab Jumpsuit
-A transmitter that doesn't serve them any purpose; it helps us know where they are. If they ditch it, they are disqualified and will not be picked up.

The group will also get one of each item to be shared among them-

-A Geiger Counter
-A G-DCS12 Shotgun
-A Kukri Machete

If only one contestant remains alive, he or she will receive via airdrop-

-A backpack filled with rations and medical dressings
-An AK-47 with Drum Mags (And random ammo drops)
-A British Mk.IV NBC suit
-An S-10 Gas Mask with multiple NBC filters

There are also small boxes set around filled with extra ammo and gas mask filters.

Registration Form:

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Nationality:
Purpose for applying?: (GOVERNMENTS CAN APPLY FOR PEOPLE...)


DANGERS OF THE MAD LANDS

-Radiation. We all know what this is.

-Grups (Oversized Grup toys; imagine these but smaller) (http://supercalifrigilistic.files.wordpress.com/2008/10/img_3274.jpg)
Grups are a mutant life form that, when mature, will chew through one's eye section, eat the brain, then proceed to attach them self to the spine, utilizing electric signals to control the body.

-Pseudo-Dogs (http://i227.photobucket.com/albums/dd143/Mr_Flylice/cr_pseudodog.jpg)
Pseudo-Dogs are a canine-like species that actively attacks humans.

-"Poultry Walkers" (http://i227.photobucket.com/albums/dd143/Mr_Flylice/pseudogiant.jpg)
Poultry Walkers are a rather powerful mutant present in the Black Forest. They live alone, though children will follow their parents. Incredibly vicious, and will attack anything that moves other than their own kind.

-Zombies
Unfortunate souls who have fallen to Grups. Here is a breakdown of various kinds of them:
-Brain Burglars: Your typical dumb zombie. Uncommon, except in Necro-grade Anarchopolis areas.
-Privates: Zombies who have been infected for a moderate amount of time. They can use firearms and other basic weapons, but are still very idiotic.
-Snorks (This picture is a zombified EGWMC Mercenary) (http://i227.photobucket.com/albums/dd143/Mr_Flylice/snorksomghalp.jpg): A sort of elite of the zombie ranks. They are formed when certain Grups infect someone. Never are found with Brain Burglars or Privates. Snorks are notable for their extreme dexterity and speed, and are rather good at short-term thinking. Usually, Snorks are former human soldiers. In this area, contestants are most likely to encounter Snorkified DRI Recon Troopers.
-Commanders: These are the rarest zombies in the Order. This is the result of years of infection. The victim has developed high intelligence and can communicate to the hordes. There are none believed to be in the area, but it is POSSIBLE that there is one.

-The Culler (http://www.keiththompsonart.com/images/full/pripyatbeast.jpg)
The Culler is an infamous rare breed found almost exclusively in GWO Europe. This is a drawing of one eating a Civilian Militia member. Cullers are believed not to be actual species, but rather cruel combinations of livestock spawned by the massive amounts of radiation spewed by nuclear war. No two are the same.

-"Gargoyles" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C4edZQpG7QM)
Gargoyles are a new species found recently in certain parts of the GWO. Not much is known about them but their amphibious capabilities and their vicious dog-like behavior.



RULES:

-Any attempts to leave the area will be met by Federal Broadcasting Syndicate mercenaries, who will be authorized to use lethal force.
-Killing another contestant is not permitted until the Medal is found.
-Contestants must be at least 18 years of age.
-No outside objects may be brought in; only what we give you will be permitted.
-Only the person carrying the medal will be EVACed by helicopter. The other contestants will have to fight their way back to the drop zone where a truck will be sitting with the keys. Then they will have to make it out of there while we film it.
-Only 10 people will be accepted.


LIST OF CONTESTANTS:
-Silas Mathis
-Gastard Deamly
-Nue Alsan
-Ronald C. Scharf
-Raphael Dubois
-Gerald V-19801A
-Victor Kruzan
-Rakkar Tiel
-Michael Bonehorror
-Eva Ptaszynski

(! represents a character whose profile needs to be edited for OOC reasons.)



GEOGRAPHY:

The current area is part of the Black Forest. The Black Forest was named as such by the Germans many years ago because the vegetation is so dense in many places that hardly any sunlight reaches the ground. Today, it is one of the most feared locations in the GWO.

http://i227.photobucket.com/albums/dd143/Mr_Flylice/madlandsmap.jpg

The blue represents shallow streams and whatnot. There is a large pond with clean-ish water towards the middle, but the rocks prevent access to it from most angles. There is a crashed C-130 in the Northeast corner of the area.

Dark green = Thick Forest
Light green = Clearing
Gray = Town or Rocks
Blue = Water


Feel free to RP as someone watching the show in their home and their reactions to occurrences. I will be RPing the larger parts of what the mutants do, but the players will be free to RP them as well, so long as we don't conflict in who controls who. I also will be RPing the staff behind the show.

Name: Silas Mathis
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Nationality: Fictional
Purpose for applying?: Convicted communist, dissenter, terrorist and ex-rebel (of the first civil war) he is being sent by the government against his will for no other reason than that they want to get rid of him.

OOC: Even if there were no zombies or monsters or radiation, the game isn't really winnable. Consider.

Imagine, say, a large room. Lose a small medal in it. How long will it take you to find it?

Now, imagine chucking this medal out of an airplane over a forest. How the frag are you going to find a medal in a forest several kilometers wide? Even if you have a metal detector (which the participants don't), how do you find a medal over several square klicks of forests, considering that there are hundreds of various other metallic objects randomly in the ground in almost any part of the earth?

Also it's not clear what the reward is for finding the medal, or whether the participants are allowed to attack other contestants.

(OOC: That.. is the point, notice who is in it, dissenters and people stupid enough to volunteer. The reward is freedom)

Name: Gastard Deamly
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Nationality: Ralkovian
Purpose for applying?: Government forcing him as a death guard to join.

(OOC: That.. is the point, notice who is in it, dissenters and people stupid enough to volunteer. The reward is freedom)

Why would anybody who is already free volunteer?

Why would anybody who is already free volunteer?

((OOC: Just because it won't happen doesn't mean you need to forbid it. For example, I'm not going to suddenly levitate and fly to New Hampshire unassisted, but that's not illegal, is it?))

Name: Nue Alsan.
Age: 27.
Gender: Male.
Nationality: Athanic.
Purpose for applying?: Captured Tunalan rebel; government wishes to kill via 'The Mad Lands'.

All accepted.

(OOC: Sounds like fuuuuuun.)

Name: Ronald C. Scharf
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Nationality: Rykarian
Purpose for applying?: Ex-mil, convicted multiple murderer. spared from the death penalty by his government only to be sent to this game show.

OOC: What happens if all but one of the participants is killed and the medal has not been found yet?

OOC: What happens if all but one of the participants is killed and the medal has not been found yet?

((OOC: He either finds the medal and wins, and is EVACed, or he dies to the forest.))

((OOC: I want to take part in my own RP, lul. I call the Anarchist cuntface.))

Name: Raphael Dubois
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Nationality: French (From the GWO)
Purpose for applying?: Sent by the Warden of his prison as a joke.

((OOC: He either finds the medal and wins, and is EVACed, or he dies to the forest.))OOC: So there might not be a winner then?:p

OOC: So there might not be a winner then?:p

((OOC: Right. Also, it's possible that the person who found the medal might die before the helicopter reaches them.

If you look, you'll notice that last season, that happened when the guy got ripped apart limb by limb.))

Name: Gerald V-19801A
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Nationality: Valgardian (Scandinvan Noble)
Purpose for applying: A member of the Legion he was a relatively normal Heavy Assault (basically a Marine) soldier. As such he stripped of all humanity, taught to use all standard weapons, skilled in hand to hand combat, and lacking virtually any real fear due to his inhuman training since the age of sixteen. After seeing his battle brothers murdered in battle he went into a blood frenzy and killed three Scandinvan Regulars who were on patrol after he managed to come within range of his dagger at which he managed to stab two of them and killed the third with his pistol. At which point he drank there blood. Before being captured by a band of Imperial Guards, at the lose of one of their soldiers.

((OOC: Accepted, but I do hope this won't turn into a bunch of specops guys shooting each other...))

((OOC: Accepted, but I do hope this won't turn into a bunch of specops guys shooting each other...))OOC: Forgot to mention he likes the taste of blood. Let me make a quite edit please.

((OOC:

Ok, after recent considerations, etc, I've decided to put a ban on Elite soldiers. Standard Special Forces (I.e., Paratroopers) are still fine, but things like Death Guard, the S.T.F., et cetera, will be banned to preserve RP quality. Cause what fun is it if everyone's just a typical killing machine? So Scandinvan, pl0x change your character.


It should be noted that Ralk's character is a WANNABE Death Guard.))

((OOC: Who made that vid, because it is freaking awesome.))

Name: Victor Kruzan
Age: 39
Gender: Male
Nationality: Yatean
Purpose for applying?: A former member of the Yatean House of Commons, ardent pacifist (but he will use a gun if he has no other choice), and an avid opponent of war and the military in general. He was accused of conspiring to assassinate the Prime Minister, which was partly true because he knew of the plot and was sentenced to either two years of military service or deportation. Being a pacifist, he chose the latter and was removed from the country for a period of six years, after which he would be allowed to return. As a joke, two Senators said that he could return to the country by competing on the GWO game show, "The Mad Lands". Obviously they were joking but Victor took them seriously and within two weeks had volunteered for the next season.

((OOC:

Ok, after recent considerations, etc, I've decided to put a ban on Elite soldiers. Standard Special Forces (I.e., Paratroopers) are still fine, but things like Death Guard, the S.T.F., et cetera, will be banned to preserve RP quality. Cause what fun is it if everyone's just a typical killing machine? So Scandinvan, pl0x change your character.


It should be noted that Ralk's character is a WANNABE Death Guard.))OOC: Does it seem better now? I simply want to have a guy who has essentially no humanity left in him.

((OOC: That works. Accepted, Yatea.

Also, props to Fictions for the vid, I gave him the thermal footage of the guy getting ripped apart and he fixed it up.))

((OOC: Ty.))

((OOC: Who made that vid, because it is freaking awesome.))

OOC: Why thank you, I'm glad you like it

Name: Rakkar Tiel
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Nationality: Templarian
Purpose for applying?: 5th in line to the Templarian throne; decided to use this show as his Rite of Passage.

Mind if I can have a spot that doesn't require me to post everyday? I'm still busy with work, and don't want to hold anyone down, but I do wanna participate. Any way this can work?

Name
Michael Bonehorror
Age
48
Gender
Male
Nationality
Anagonian (Drekamythia)
Purpose for applying
Duke Nukem Fan. Wants to be like his hero.

((All accepted.))

((OOC: Damn we need one more person...))

(OOC: It'll be nice when we get the final person.)

Ta da!
Name: Eva Ptaszynski
Age: 62
Gender: Female
Nationality: Ravean
Purpose for applying?: An old, semi-retired Ravean assassin. She sees this as a final test of her abilities, and wishes to remain sharp with age. An expert with handguns and makeshift weapons.

((OOC: Accepted.))

Name: Tede Red
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Nationality: American
Purpose for applying?: Bored.

((OOC: Bit of a timewarp here.))

Federal Broadcasting Syndicate Iron Studio, City of Iron

"Wake up, it's time for you all to be sent off!" shouted an English-sounding "stage grunt." He promptly flipped on the light switch to reveal the rather small rooms each contestant temporarily stayed in. The rooms were actually quite comfortable, though small and prison-like. A folded olive drab jumpsuit was sitting on the small table next to each bed, along with a pistol belt (Though no weapons were present) and black combat boots. The stage grunt led them to the backstage, where commotions could be heard from whatever was on the other side of the curtain. The stage grunt then explained to them to go out on stage when called.

"Our first contestant this year is Silas Mathis, a convicted Communist rebel from the exotic nation of Fictions! Let us welcome him onto the stage!"

A projector screen showed a re-enactment of a man that looked like Silas in a USSR-esque military uniform taking cover behind a chunk of rubble while a similarly dressed man fired an AK-47 down the street at off-screen enemies. As Silas came onto stage, much of the audience gave a loud "BOOO!"

"From the lands of Ralkovia comes Gastard Deamly, convicted of impersonating a member of the Ralkovian Death Guard!"

The projector screen showed a re-enactment of Death Guards jumping out of a black van and hitting a man looking like Gastard in the testicles with a baton before pulling him into the van. The crowd's reaction was entirely mixed.

"Our third contestant hails from the new-to-the-world-stage country of Athanes, as a rebel fighting for the Tunala terrorists! Please welcome Nue Alsan!"

Footage similar to Silas's was shown on the screen, and like Gastard's reception, nobody could really tell if the audience liked them or not.

"This year, the allied nation of Rykaria has sent their own contestant. Ronald C. Sharf is an ex-Rykarian Army soldier turned serial killer!"

The audience gave a loud boo as the screen showed an actor wearing a Rykarian Army uniform holding up a bloody meat cleaver.

"From our own streets comes a dastardly Liberty Confederation Anarchist, a 19-year old convicted of murdering a Civilian Control Officer in cold blood, Raphael Dubois!"

Some of the audience members had to be restrained as they tried to bolt over the barricades separating the stage from the seats as everyone screamed obscenities at Dubois. The screen showed Raphael standing in front of a Communist flag in a Liberty Confederation uniform with his arms crossed.

"The cold land of Scandinvan has deployed Gerald V-19801A to the Mad Lands, after he killed several of his fellow soldiers and an Imperial Guardsman after a case of bloodlust."

"This year, we have the privilege of having a former parliament member in our show. Please welcome, from the nation of Yatea, Victor Kruzan!'

The crowd gave a few cheers to show their support for Victor. The screen showed Victor reading over plans to assassinate the Prime Minister.

"And to counter Mr. Kruzan is Rakkar Tiel, an heir to the throne of Void Templar!"

The crowd roared in approval as Rakkar came onto the stage.

"And, proving he has balls of steel, Michael Bonehorror has came in all the way from Anagonia to prove he is like his hero, Duke Nukem."

Several Duke Nukem enthusiasts stood up with Duke Nukem posters while Bonehorror's best play of Duke Nukem played on the projector.

"Our last contestant this year is Eva Ptaszynski, a retired assassin from Ravea who wishes to hone her combat skills, even in old age."


"These are our contestants this year, and we have a special guest to send them off. Please welcome former contestant Jonathan Bauer!"

A middle-aged but powerful looking man strode into the room wearing a black business suit, black leather gloves, and a red tie (The symbol of Cosa Nostra within the GWO, specifically the government-owned Mafia). He shook all the contestant's hands before moving to the host's podium and pulling the microphone up to mouth level.

"I've only got a few things to say to you all. Work together. Seriously. I remember Yuri from my time on this show, he ended up getting ripped in half by a Culler after running off with the shotgun and stealing a bunch of people's food. Furthermore, be careful about who gets the group items. And finally, good luck to you all."

Several stage grunts escorted the contestants to the elevator and onto the roof, where a UH-64 Blackhawk was waiting for them.

Eva grimaced under her gas mask as she examined her new handgun. It was serviceable, perhaps, but not up to her usual standards. She preferred revolvers; her pair of S&W Model 500's were unfortunately sitting back in Ravea. It would, of course, be easier to gain more firepower as her teammates got slaughtered, which she had no doubt would be inevitable. Scrounging ammo off the dead was never pleasant, but of course it wouldn't make sense for anything to go to waste.

Eva eyed her teammates closely. She had at least a a few decades of experience over any of the real contenders, and she wondered if any of them imagined what they were getting themselves into as she stepped onto the helicopter.

Raphael had a look or boredom on his face before loudly exclaiming, obviously to spite the stage grunts, "This is a real fuckin' embarrassment. I gotta be with these people? Ain't even worth my effort, ya see?"

His gas mask was sitting on his belt, as he remembered his Liberty Confederation training (Which was rather primitive but would hopefully help here, despite being designed to teach rebels to fight the Order instead of survive the wilderness) and how it's best to save "good filter stuff." He knew of what was out there, moreso than anyone else. He grew up here, and had to take multiple warnings and tips from the government about the creatures that live out there and why going off the freeways above the wilderness was a rather bad idea. He even witnessed an entire City Sector get locked down because of a Grup sighting. Of course, he wasn't an expert at all on things like these. He eyed the several Olive Drab MOLLE backpacks sitting in a corner of the helicopter's cabin, each one obviously full of rations, ammo, et cetera. One thing he knew was that he most likely could run faster than anyone else there, he definitely had a talent for long-range sprinting.

Ronald sat quietly and blank faced throughout most of the sending off event, only offering a smile to the sole survivor of a previous season as he accepted the handshake. a quick thought of "The fuck is his problem?" went through his mind when witnessing Raphael's fit of snobbery.

He narrowed his eyes as he peered around the rooftop, Eyeballing all of the contestants that would be his teammates throughout this hellish event. He wondered to himself why there was an old woman and a few younger looking punks, but it didn't really matter to him.

As he boarded the chopper he sat down and buckled in. He began to take a moment to give himself an equipment check, don his gas mask with the filter out, and make sure all of his gear was in order, he then began to wish he had his trusty FG84 Battle Rifle by his side.

Ronald was previously a Rykarian Mountain Corps Infantryman (Essentially like the U.S. Army Rangers) who was court martialed for throwing multiple grenades into a friendly barracks building over a small dispute, killing over 23 men and wounding much more, shooting them as they came crawling out of the building. He was set for the death penalty but his superiors thought sending him to such a game show would bring them more pleasure from seeing him torn limb from limb.

His thoughts drifted in and out of his survival knowledge and his doubts about the selection of contestants around him. He leaned back into his seat, drawing his Handgun and inspecting it before the helicopter took off. "Gah, This piece of shit will probably jam on me... wish i had my Glock 21." He said to himself quietly as he put the weapon back in it's holster, putting his hands behind his head in a relaxing position as he awaited take off... He knew the dangerous of the GWO wilderness from previous studies, and he was prepared to face them.

Michael Bonehorror had relished the attention gathered from the stage introductions. Sure, he did a few movies back in the day. He also had been a member of the Grand Army for fifteen years of his life, but that only had inspired him more to keep fit and become more like his idol. Duke Nukem. Honestly, no one could explain why Michael had such a fascination for the computer animated character. Maybe he felt an affinity for him? Perhaps he played it too much? Every explanation seemed to be limited and not enough. Michael knew the truth though.

He was the reincarnation of Duke Nukem, flesh and bone. Somewhere along the line, this twisted and downright confused explanation had set foot inside his mind. After forty-eight years of life, two bloody wars in the military, and a lot of other shit that would have made anyone else commit suicide, he would have said back when he was sane that everybody deserved a backdrop to keep from going insane. Well, here he was, insane in a manner of speaking. His expression and figure looked like his idol too, down to the hair style and shades. That was one thing he refused to have taken away. The simple black sunglasses that completed the look of his hero.

Being led up to the helicopter was uneventful. He gazed left to right, examining the other contenders. One struck him instantly, the one he recalled as Eva. She was older than the rest, looked more experienced to. Something about her seemed to warrant some respect from whatever was left of the military-mindset that he had left behind for this fantasy realm of his. The one he seemed to hate the most at this point was Raphael. He swore to himself silently that no matter where, he'd somehow kill that bastard with his bare hands just for being a showoff. He didn't like showoff's.

Boarding the Blackhawk brought back memories that lay dormant for decades within Michael. He seemed to shiver, the Olive Drab jumpsuit failing to hide the ripple along his insane muscular mass. On his belt was kept the hand-gun and gas-mask. He didn't see no need for it yet, not until the helicopter neared the drop point. Seeing as he didn't have any other supplies, he looked around the passenger area and spoke aloud. "Uh, Uh, Uh. Where is it?" And then he found it, the backpacks full of supplies for ever contestant. Well, not full of anything really. Only intended to give a false sense of it. He was quick to take his backpack and examine what was within, placing the ammo in the right spot on his belt and organizing everything before placing it on his back. He didn't care if he wasn't aloud to it yet, he had to die some way.

He noticed how slow the progression of contestants was coming to the helicopter. From his experience, you either boarded then and there, or you were left behind. He shook his head, speaking as loud as he could to those not boarded yet. "What are you waiting for? Christmas?" Snarling, he took a seat, and knew he would have to wait yet. He casually took his MI-P45 Handgun and started to dissect it, taking it a part and examining the interior parts on his lap as he placed them all back together. Eventually, under a minute later, he had it completed and cocked it to lock the bullet inside. He sighed, realizing just how hard this was going to be. Remembering how easy it was just to make a buck playing his reincarnated self. He growled under his breath, "Somebody's gonna freakin pay for screwin up my vacation."

"Two communists, a fake skinless fucker, someone who thinks hes Duke Goddamn Nukem, a coupla serial killers, a terrorist and a politian. Great." Rakkar shook his head as he boarded the Blackhawk, tugging nervously at a small black armband on the right arm of his jumpsuit on which the Templarian trinity symbol was emblazoned. He sat down and looked around at his other teammates. He frowned under his mask as his eyes passed over The masks obscured most peoples faces, so he resigned himself to staring at the handgun he'd been given, his eyes occasionally flitting around the room before dropping back to the gun.

Silas could hardly keep his thoughts straight as he was brought up the elevator and lead into a blackhawk that was sitting ready on the roof. Everything was so alien to him who had, up to this point, never been outside his motherland. While in Fictions he had had it explained to him in graphic and gleeful detail the sort of thing that was expected to happen, they told stories of hideous demon monsters with a taste for human flesh, they told of landscape so inhospitable and radioactive that it could kill a man within seconds. Although the images that had formed in his head were terrifying at the time he had thought all of that an exaggeration intended to scare him, but now as he took his place in the blackhawk fear knotted his stomach and he was filled with dread. He had never believed in God but now he found himself half wishing that there was someone out there that might spare him from this land of demons.

He had considered making a run for it before but knew he would not get five paces... He now wished he had made an escape attempt, surely being shot would have been better than whatever horrors were about to face him in this mad land. He glanced around at the faces, or in most case masks of the men and one woman who would be his comrades in this nightmare. He lowered his eyes and stared at his knees, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself, his fists clenched tightly in fear. The “re-education” camps in Fictions were bad and he had wished every day to get out of them. Well, he had got his wish, he had been taken out of one hell and into another one which would surely prove to be far worse...

Ronald looked around the cabin of the UH-64 and it seemed like everyones head was enclosed in latex and iron from those GP-5 gas masks they all were wearing, It reminded him of his gas mask training. He noticed some were not wearing the masks but he felt it was better to be safer than sorry, besides, they'd have to don them soon anyway.

He looked down at his belt again to make sure he had his medical kit and his filters were ready to go at a moments notice, and also making sure his magazines were ready to feed flawlessly and were full. After returning the supplies to his belt he lifted his head, noticing multiple new contestants that had came on board while he was so indulged in his equipment. he scanned them with his eyes and didn't notice much, a black armband on one man was about all that he noticed that was out of place, he could just barely tell who was who from the small eyelets on the mask, and the stature and build of the people around.

He leaned forward, peering out of the side door of the UH-64 as he raised his eyebrows, wondering why everyone was taking their sweet time trying to get into the chopper. He sat back down and looked around at the others in the chopper as he began to speak in a light Rykarian accent (sounds german)

"You all realize we're going to need to find shelter(A building) down there as soon as we hit the deck, right? Or we're food for a culler." he said, his previous studies in college granted him knowledge of many mutants spotted out in the wild before, so he had a general idea of what to expect. "I hope you all are quick.... and accurate shooters.." he said as he laughed a bit, knowing some of the fools he was going in with would die very quickly from mutants.

"You all realize we're going to need to find shelter(A building) down there as soon as we hit the deck, right? Or we're food for a culler.... I hope you all are quick.... and accurate shooters.."
It took a while for Silas to fully understand what the man had said, he had always found English a confusing language. He looked down at his gun, he had not loaded it yet even though some others had, he had not put on his gas mask either. He thought for a while trying to translate what he wanted to say in his head before speaking
"Can fight... um, most fast but if rush maybe miss medal?" He looked at his knees again "What... What is Culler mean?" he played with the strap on his backpack in a slightly embarrassed fashion, things were going to be hard he could tell, and why were people taking so long to get on the helicopter? Was it not bad enough that they were flying to their doom, did they have to make people wait, give their imaginations time to think up the worst, invent terrible demons in the mind, surely nothing could be worse than what a person could think up, but if those stories he had been told were true... He shuddered visibly. If they were true, then nature had some horrible surprises up it's sleeve...

You all realize we're going to need to find shelter down there as soon as we hit the deck, right? Or we're food for a culler. I hope you all are quick.... and accurate shooters.."

"I'm a decent shot. Not exactly a sniper or nothin', but a decent shot. Used to go to Rykalz and hunt the prisoners there. You just gotta keep a positive attitude, y'know? Rabbit, polar bear, person, giant irradiated beast... If it lives you can kill it." He smiled to himself under his mask, glancing over at Silas. "If you dwell on what could be out there you'll just end up getting a heart attack from the first thing you see."

"Two communists, a fake skinless fucker, someone who thinks hes Duke Goddamn Nukem, a coupla serial killers, a terrorist and a politian. Great." Rakkar shook his head as he boarded the Blackhawk, tugging nervously at a small black armband on the right arm of his jumpsuit on which the Templarian trinity symbol was emblazoned. He sat down and looked around at his other teammates. He frowned under his mask as his eyes passed over The masks obscured most peoples faces, so he resigned himself to staring at the handgun he'd been given, his eyes occasionally flitting around the room before dropping back to the gun.

Michael Bonehorror glanced at Rakkar as he finished his statement whilst boarding the chopper. He lifted his chin, in that classic Duke Nukem style, and grinned in a manner displaying discontent. He spoke, loudly, as he glared at Rakkar. "And you're an inspiration for birth control," he retorted for everyone present. Actually, for himself, because damn the others.

His attention then turned to Ronald as he finished by saying, "I hope you all are quick.... and accurate shooters." He lowered his head, one hand lowering his dark sunglasses so his eyes could get a good view at Ronald. He stayed at that glaring pose for a moment before saying, "I think you need some down time...and we got a lot of down time where we are headin'." He put his sunglasses back in place, looking away as he sat back in his seat. "Down time that goes past forever, baby."

After letting his comments linger for a moment, he fashioned his gas mask over his face. He had taken off his sunglasses beforehand, placing them in a pocket on his belt. He was quick about not letting everyone see his eye color, or his expression underneath them. As he relaxed back, training took over and he breathed easily. This would be one hell of an adventure, and he didn't count on getting any medal to get out. Duke Nukem didn't need an airlift, after all.

"I can kill anything that comes within a hundred paces of me. You don't get this far in life without being able to aim worth a shit." Eva cracked her old joints, feeling a sudden cold in her bones. "As soon as we hit the ground, we have to make a perimeter-no blind spots, no mistakes. If anyone gets left behind, no one is going to come back for you."

She nudged Silas softly, feeling a bit sorry for him. "Just stick close to me, boy. Do what I say and you'll be okay." Or at least you'll make a good human shield when you mess up.

"And you're an inspiration for birth control," he retorted for everyone present. Actually, for himself, because damn the others.

"Thank you sir, thank you kindly." Rakkar laughed. "Your life must have really been awful if the best you can be is Duke Nukem. Hows Forever coming along?" He shook his head. "Anyway, don't want to get off to a bad start do we? With the possible exception of our friend there-" he nodded towards Raphael, "I think we'll all be able to get along nicely. At least until something shiny starts glittering." He proffered a hand. "No hard feelin's?"

"Thank you sir, thank you kindly." Rakkar laughed. "Your life must have really been awful if the best you can be is Duke Nukem. Hows Forever coming along?" He shook his head. "Anyway, don't want to get off to a bad start do we? With the possible exception of our friend there-" he nodded towards Raphael, "I think we'll all be able to get along nicely. At least until something shiny starts glittering." He proffered a hand. "No hard feelin's?"

"Forever's too long," he said as he leaned forward and took firmly Rakkar's hand. He seemed to shrug and as he ended the firm handshake, he nodded. "I 'spose you'd make good cannon fodder, so stick by me and we'll kill some mutant bastards." He glanced at Raphael after he lowered his hand, then back at Rakkar as he thought about something. He didn't say it, just leaned back and gave a wink to Rakkar. As if saying, "Gotcha", about Raphael.

Ronald nodded towards Rakkar. "Hunt prisoners eh? Sounds like fun." he said as he chuckled a bit. He slowly turned his head towards Michael just in time to hear the witty comment, staring at the man's pose as he rolled his eyes and smiled a sarcastic smile under his mask, wondering how this guy planned to survive. He chuckled at Rakkar's retort to Michael's insult.

Ronald was bouncing his leg up and down slowly as he was rather anxious to get going, he wasn't really nervous as he had been in a world of shit for quite some time now and he had gotten used to all the problems he had to deal with, plus his hard military training essentially kicked the knowledge of fear out of him, but alas he was still cautious.

He looked towards the old woman as she spoke her words of wisdom, she would most likely be the only one he wouldn't wise crack towards as she seemed to have her shit together so to speak, and that deserved respect. "I agree with her." He spoke. "A perimeter is definitely needed.. try not to get jumpy also everyone, you need clear heads to function properly as you should.. I'm sure those with Military training understand what I'm getting at." He said, nodding a bit as he sat back into his rather uncomfortable seat.

(OOC: He's not stupid, he just does not speak English well)

"Just stick close to me, boy. Do what I say and you'll be okay."
He nodded, thankful that at least someone was kind, the others, from what he could understand of their conversations were fighting already. He closed his eyes a moment trying to calm the sick feeling of dread for what was ahead, Rakkar was right he should not think about what could be there, although he did not know what he had meant by hearts attacking him. He needed something to take his mind off the coming hell. Silas picked up his backpack and carefully examined the content making a note of everything he had, carefully and deliberately securing various items to his belt and loading his weapon, he made one last inventory check and donned his mask.
"When arrive... um, what happen? Will it um.. howsay? how looking um..." he tailed off aware some people were watching him, those who's faces could be seen were smirking or keeping their expressions blank. Silas was glad he was wearing the mask so no-one could see his embarrassment, he looked down and muttered something in his own language, fidgeting nervously with the strap of the backpack...

Michael finally acknowledged Sila's in a dark corner, metaphorically. Before, he had only noted his figure thanks to Eva's gaze. He was really concentrating on her for some reason, mentally knowing the ideas that had been presented were actual knowledge and his mind was set on following the instructions. He caught a earshot of the way Sila's spoke, and pulled down his mask to gaze at him. "Hey kid," he said in a lower tone than before, "I got your back."

Convinced that this would be enough to support what seemed like a fragile personality within Sila's, he placed his gas-mask back on and leaned back. He actually considered using Rakkar's as a human shield to go by his word, or at least kill everyone else. He didn't know why, but the woman and the kid seemed...likable. Everyone else just deserved to damn die. All that in his twisted thinking, considering.

Victor sat in silence, watching the ground pass by beneath him. The inside of his mask was slightly foggy, probably due to his inexperienced fiddling with it. He sighed, coughing a little as he did and making his mask even foggier.

After several minutes, he removed the pistol from his belt, ejecting the clip and the one bullet in the chamber. He quickly, and rather skillfully disassembled the pistol, trying to remember what he learned from his short tour in the military. He carefully examined each of the components for any defects. The pistol wasn't in the best of shape, it needed a bit of oil and a quick cleaning but it would serve it's purpose quite nicely.

A bit of examination, thinking and a little remembering, Victor had reassembled the pistol just a little slower than he'd field stripped it. By the time he'd replaced the slide and reloaded the magazine, he was feeling rather proud of himself. He never really thought he'd need these skills he'd learned in the military, especially for a game show.

Ronald watched the man who was fidgeting with his handgun, By his skill of field stripping it he assumed the man was ex-military, and with that he added to his mental note of people who were likely to survive the longest, he figured anyone with military training of some sort would come out on top.. such as himself.

He drew his handgun as well, looking it over again as he began to reconsider his earlier conclusion of "This pistol is shitty" as he began to disassemble it and discover the strong, metal parts of the weapon. he realized the weapon was very unlikely to ever jam which made him smile under his gas mask, luckily his weapon had been previously taken care of well by whoever handled it last, the slide rails were coated in a thin layer of oil which smelled rather sweet and pleasent and a small dab of oil could be spotted on the bolt for lubrication. The feed ramp was also polished to a sheen which would allow easy extraction of rounds from the magazine.

He put the handgun back together slowly and locked the slide back, keeping his finger outside of the trigger guard showing great discipline and safety in firearms as he locked a magazine into the well, his thumb triggering the slide release as the bolt rammed a .45ACP round home into the chamber. he quickly placed the weapon on safe and returned it to his holster with a smile on his face, he was quite happy with his new weapon, yet he stilled longed for his Glock 21. At least he was in luck that the knife he was issued for this show is the same as his home countries military knife, so it was familiar to him.

He figured if he could find an old broken down vehicle he could gather some motor oil for weapon lubrication if it came down to it, he was a pretty resourceful and could scrounge up a lot of things needed.

He took off his mask for a moment, the cool air blowing over his shaved head as he removed it. He took a few moments to check all parts were functional and that the filter could be screwed in properly before putting it back on, for now he would leave the filter out.

UH-64 Helicopter

Raphael was quick to start spewing bullshit again. "Yeah, I'm a good shot, I killed some copper with one shot, ya see? One shot! You ever seen the shit GWO (Note that he pronounces it "Gwoh") cops wear? That shit'll stop a goddamn AK burst, even with those damn FMJs, uh-huh. Also, broken English guy, a Culler is a horse mixed with a human mixed with a bunch of other stuff with a giant mouth in its chest that eats people."

One of the show crewmembers crouched into the cabin, wearing a flight uniform like the pilots. "Alright, people! Let me give you a general explanation of your weaponry!" He had to shout to overcome the rotor blades. "The MI-P45s you've been given fire .45ACP rounds, and in this case, jacketed hollow-points! There is a full automatic setting, and you get 20 shots per mag! Those backpacks in the corner contain all your equipment you aren't holding right now. This bag right here," he held a duffel bag up, "Contains items the group will have to share. In it you will find a G-DCS12 shotgun, otherwise known as the F.S.C.S. This is a semi-automatic double barreled combat shotgun that fires 12 gauge shells. You will have 80 of these," he pulled the shotgun from the bag. It had two barrels indeed, with on on top of the other. "Law enforcement agencies in the GWO use these for CQC, but rarely for open combat like you'll be facing, as that's more for the G-DRS12, otherwise known as the F.S.A.R.S., which is identical except for the fact that the barrels are horizontally aligned. There's the drop zone, people! Get ready!"

Ronald rolled his eyes as he shook is head at Raphael's idiotic comment, he quickly looked over to the crew member that was showing the G-DCS12 shotgun to everyone and asked, "Hey, which one of us gets the shotgun? we haven't figured that out yet." He said, shouting over the rotors. he quickly looked around the cabin at everyone and thought to himself that a larger, more muscular person would be well suited to carry the heavy weapon plus all of the 12 gauge shot. "Any takers?" he said, although he was 6'1 and 213 lbs of a large muscular build, he didn't want the boomstick.

He quickly reached down to his belt and pulled out a gas mask filter for his GP-5 and kept it at the ready, he kept peering out of the blackhawk's side door and looking down at the ground. He knew there was plenty of dangers down there, so he had his filter ready to go.

(OOC: OI! I pronounce "GWO" as "gwoh" LOL)

God that Raphael kid is annoying Silas scowled under his gas-mask, there were punks like that back in Fictions, kids who joined the rebellion thinking they were better than everyone else. Well, it was they who were always killed or captured first, hell if it was not for one of those bastards he himself would never have been caught and would never have been made to join this hellish game show.

Listening to the man as he gave instructions on how to use the weapons he fervently wished that he could understand what he was saying properly, he glanced down at his gun... Seemed like it would be easy enough to figure out.

"Hey, which one of us gets the shotgun? we haven't figured that out yet...Any takers?"
Silas shook his head, they would be landing soon and there would be too much too worry about without being in-charge of the group equipment.
"Is...Is might best if some who has know of it and um... can trust with not to waste bullets of it or lose.... um, No me, no wanting to um... have howsay?... Responcibil...um..." He lapsed into silence, glancing out the chopper at the forest underneath, where those horse-human demons and other monsters would be waiting for them, hidden by more trees than he had even seen in his life.

Silence was his friend. Michael sat back, not moving as the Blackhawk descended. He had seen the shotgun, wanted it, desired it. But that would come in due time, when everyone else decided they were too weak or fallible to even embrace the lovely weapon of death. Only he knew how to truly bring destruction upon his enemies. These mutants were nothing. Michael's mind diving deeper into the Duke persona as he relaxed, breathing easily.

The ground came closer, his body tensing. He knew what he had to do. Save the world, save the chicks. That was all. Maybe a few of these pansies too if they didn't slow him down. No one knew war better than him, no one knew how to kill things inhuman better than him. He was Duke Nukem, that cocky bastard that somehow always got the women. Michael knew this wasn't the time to be cocky, nor embrace every aspect of his twisted persona. He just knew what he had to do, raising his handgun and locked the slide once more.

"It's time to kick ass and chew bubblegum," he said as he felt for his pockets. He snarled under his gas-mask, "And I'm all outta gum."

UH-64

As the crewmember was asked as to who gets the G-DSC12, simply replied, "That's for you to decide, not me," before putting it back in the bag. "I personally suggest you don't fight over it, though, cause that's the quickest way to get killed. I've been on this show for the five years it's been running, and experience shows that cooperation is key. Anyways, disembark in 10 seconds!"

Raphael was quick to call the shotgun. He promptly blurted out, "I got dibs on the shotty! I'm the fastest person here, maybe not as big as you guys but still!"

Raphael then donned his gas mask finally before screwing the filter in. He looked down at his MI-P45, it did bring back a rather painful memory of his earlier life. His father had been a GWO soldier during the Foundings, before Griffith Artiche launched the Putsch. When that happened, he promptly denounced the Order and sided with Marshal Lurdan Huszar's Liberty Confederation. Raphael's mother had left his father when that happened, being a fierce supporter of Artiche. Then came the CCU raid, when Raphael was twelve. He witnessed a Civilian Control sergeant put a MI-P45 to his father's head before blowing his brains out all over Raphael. He avoided being seen before fleeing the building, eventually picked up by members of another Liberty Confederation cellhouse. That cellhouse was his home until he killed a CCU officer who was conducting crowd control and managing rescue plans at an apartment fire. After tracking Raphael to the cellhouse he resided in, the CCU and Europe Continential State Troopers stormed the house before a Judiciator from the Federal Guard authorized on-site prosecution for everyone but Dubois.

After ten seconds, Dubois was the first person to jump from the helicopter.

Victor tightened the straps on his mask, checked the filter, checked his pistol and made sure everything was where it was supposed to be. For a second, he felt like he went back twenty years. Back to those days of the military, those days of killing and war. Those so hard-to-forget memories flooded his head.

As he scanned the treeline, more memories came back. His mind went back, back to his days of being in the Army, back to the War of Unification, back to those awful memories.

One battle in particular sprung into his mind. Not a lengthy battle, nor memorable except for one thing in particular: it was an exceptionally bloody battle. By the time Victor finished checked his gear, he saw the dismembered corpses, bullet-riddled civilians and soldiers, tossed into graves carelessly, all without remorse. He remembered the cries of the wounded, those who were simply unlucky enough to not die were buried under piles of the dead and slowly suffocated. He relived the entire battle in an instant, he remembered seeing his friends get shot, stabbed and bludgeoned in the closeness of the trench. He reached up and touched his mask, remembering what had happened next.

Someone's voice quickly brought him out of the trance, he assumed it was the cocky kid who'd just jumped. Victor shuddered slightly and shook his head, expelling the visions from his mind. He blinked several times. He looked out of the helicopter at the treeline, the thoughts slowly simmering, as if ready to spring up again. They didn't.

He stood up and grabbed the rail, jumping from the aircraft and planting his feet on the ground. The moment he did that, he felt a wave of dread pour over him, like a hot shower. The forest seemed to be alive and malevolent, laughing at him. He suddenly wished he'd never signed up.

Ronald grit his teeth and narrowed his eyes as he heard the crewmember shout out "Disembark in 10 seconds!". He quickly grabbed the filter for his gas mask and screwed it in tight, putting his hand over the air hole to check the mask for a tight seal to his face, ensuring proper protection and proper use. He unbuckled his seat and drew his MI-P45, Racking the slide backwards and chambering a round as he started to jump out of the helo, landing feet first on the forest floor.

The impact on the forest floor seemed very loud for him, all the sounds around him seemed to be masked out as he began to do a threat scan, checking his Twelve, three, six, and nine o'clock positions for any possible mutant threat with his weapon at the ready, his finger on the trigger, His heart beating hard with every thump as he could hear it loudly in his ears, and his quiet breath seemingly so loud, but then everything seemed to fade back to normal as the rotors of the hovering beast above them filtered back in.

The experience of jumping off the low hovering bird was not a new one for him, as he had to do it many times in Military training, but the threat of mutants was. He held his weapon with a very tight grip, circling around as he scanned the tree line for targets, covering the others as they got off the bird... He wasn't nervous, he was ready.

Making one last check on his equipment Silas took a deep breath and, hands shaking undid his belt and made to leave the helicopter. He almost didn’t jump almost decided to head back into the chopper and take his chances with the guards but after a few false starts he too joined those already in the forest.

Landing heavily he quickly regained his balance and gun raised scanned the trees for anything out of the ordinary, expecting some hideous monster to jump out any second but nothing came out of the thick dark forest. He had a fleeting thought, how easy it would be to lose your way here, he had never seen so many trees all in one place in his life… and what a perfect hiding place for demons and monsters to attack an unsuspecting wanderer for now he truly was in hell and it was only a matter of time before the devil came for them…

The Black Forest

After everyone (Including the people who didn't post) jumped off the helicopter, the black duffel bag fell off into the middle of the group before the helicopter flew off. Now there was no contact with the outside world; they were alone. Completely so.

The particular area actually looked clean, and one wouldn't know that there were monsters within a five kilometer radius of the area. A squirrel made a dash across the fading dirt trail before scurrying up a tree. In the distance though, the shriek of some animal (or possibly a human) echoed throughout the forest. On all sides, the trees were so dense that the forest lived up to its name.

Dubois practically tore open the duffel bag before drawing the G-DSC12 out and pushing a 10-shell clip into each barrel. The shells of course would be forced back the moment he shut the barrels. He pulled out the Geiger counter before saying, rather loudly and obnoxiously, "What the hell is this thing? I've seen some coppers with these things..." he set it aside, someone else could deal with it. Then he withdrew the map, which showed some basic things in the game zone. A red dot with "DROP ZONE" printed on it showed where they were. A look to the sky predicted rain within the next hour.

"Alright, so what now, huh?" Raphael said, standing up with the shotgun in his hand. "Make sure you get the crap you want out of that bag."

A roar of some sorts exploded from the treeline, but whatever caused it wasn't visible... it was obviously yelling at some animal, especially because the sounds of a bear quickly came to match it.

Gerald in a quick movement went at the bag and took out the Kukri Machete and put it in a improvised sheath made of cloth. Looking around he said," I say we split into groups of three and make a break for it before anything finds us."

Ronald pointed his handgun downwards as he ran quickly over to the bag, pulling out the small Geiger counter which Raphael so carelessly threw aside, he put it in his pocket knowing it would keep them - or at least him, alive by knowing about radiation dead-zones, he kept the small counter in his pocket ready for any readings.

He quickly spun around with weapon pointed forward at the direction of the loud noise, his mind half expecting to see some hideous beast charge out of the brush but he realized that was just him over exadurating things in his mind. "We'll have a smaller chance of survival if we split up... but we can move faster. But it's too dangerous." He said, staring for a moment at Gerald before looking back towards the direction of the noise. He looked back down at his feet, reaching out and closing the empty duffel bag and wrapping the carry strap for it over him and around his shoulder. He decided he would take it with him as it could come in handy to carry any extra equipment he finds, or the extra equipment of fallen contestants.

Michael Bonehorror hit the ground with a thud. He gazed around, not caring about the others as he raised his pistol and started hearing eerie sounds from afar. He didn't twitch, shake, or exclaim. He simply gazed, then readied his handgun as he stuck to the group and stayed silent. Michael would follow the others until they started to get killed off. When that happened, he'd shoot whomever survived and go on alone. Duke Nukem would have done the same.

Rakkar looked around at the forest, holding his pistol. A faint smile twitched incessantly at the top right corner of his mouth, little finger of his right hand tapping the bottom of the pistol grip. He started to say something, but was cut off by the screech in the distance. His smile flickered off and he whirled around to face it, aiming at the treeline for a few moments before lowering the pistol.
"Well, this is... different. I think I prefered the wastes back home, really. Less cramped. As for splitting up, I'd say it'd be a bad idea to weaken an already fairly vulnerable group."

Silas kept his gun raised the whole time, hands shaking with fear, ready to shoot anything that made a sudden movement. he scanned the thick tree-line wildly, trying to stay as close to the group as he dared. A screech of some sort tore open the air and he gave a start spinning wildly to face where the unearthly sound had some from but saw nothing he did not relax but rather tightened his grip on the pistol. Some people were talking abut splitting up, the last thing he wanted was for the group to be split up
"No split, stay 'gether... Is safer" Even he could hear the edge of terror in his own voice.

(OOC: Bump. alot of people who signed up for this have not even posted once..)