I've met a couple of lovely people through this thread but nothing's certain as of yet. I'd love to meet summore people, if you, the public, will let me.
Oh, and I'm still wondering whether my Fallout craving will ever go away.
Hello fellow writer!
I am interested in your Fallout story, but do not know if I am qualified. I am not familiar with most of the stories/games you mentioned, but I love the story idea. The one positive of not knowing the games as you do is you can lead me anywhere you want and I won’t have any preconceived ideas about what my character should do or be.
I have seen post-apocalyptic movies and think I have a reasonable handle on the nuances of the genre.
I love to experiment with RPs. I love to throw in unexpected twists. I don’t do it to be mean, but to be more realistic. Life always throws unexpected twists at us and it would be unrealistic to act otherwise. As such, we might be in the middle of a quiet moment of reflection and attraction, perhaps walking along a path left by some machine who seeks us out, when I suddenly slip and fall about ten feet down a ravine. I want it to be a surprise to you so you will have to react the way you would in real life, where you don’t get to know ahead of time what life will bring. But I don’t overdo it. That would be an entirely different type of writing. I am also very teachable. If you like my writing but wish I would be more descriptive or detailed, just tell me and I will do my best to meet your requirements. I am easy-going and don’t mind any helpful criticism that makes the story better.
Since you spoke of yourself in the third-person, I wonder if you might permit me to let my character describe herself in first person. It makes it easier for me to get into her head. I am including two pictures that might meet your desires in an apocalyptic female.
My name is Hope. My troubled mother gave me that name shortly before she died of toxic water poisoning. She could barely speak, her throat partially eaten away, but managed to make me understand the only hope left to people like us was my generation and the next.
I lost everything the day the earth was literally destroyed. Nothing was left but the hard crust normally covered by several feet of life-giving and life-producing soil. I had no father and my mother and brother, Jason, were all I had. Our home had turned to dust after the annihilation. Jason, only six, had been blinded by the scorching light when the ‘happening’ occurred. The light was so bright it pierced the first six feet of the ground, searing its way into the caverns and tunnels where many had sought safety, the heat from the light turning them into underground ovens. I am told it was worse than any nuclear bomb they had seen in the Five-Year War before I was born. I am also told people looked different before then, but I have no point of reference, as no pictures or anything of paper survived the ‘happening.’
My brother, Jason, was left in my care when my mother died, and I promised to take care of him. I was ready to protect him with my life, if necessary. Or worse, with my virginity, or enslavement. The idea of a male touching me made my skin crawl. It was so unsanitary, I believe I would have to wash for days to get rid of the stench. I left Jason for only a moment. Just a quick, fleeting moment, as I scaled a short wall of twisted iron to grab a piece of burnt animal skin, almost transparent in its density, which had wafted over me in the heat winds that blew over the land almost continuously. It would be our only sustenance today. Food was getting more and more difficult to find.
I only looked away a second. The blast knocked me backward and my head slammed against the iron wall. It was several seconds before I could find my footing and I quickly rushed back to where I had last seen Jason. I almost missed him. Or what was left of him. My heart twisted like it was in two vices, each turning in opposite directions. The pain was nearly unbearable. I stared at the rough, handmade boot with the foot still held inside by the tightly-pulled laces. My vision went from total blackness to red, then yellow as I collapsed to my knees, a wail trying desperately to surge out of my body, but my hand automatically flying to my mouth before it could escape. Any sound in the light hours would mean certain death, or maiming. Or worse.
I was alone after that. I had failed my mother and my brother when I did not protect him. My skin toughened. I appreciated my aloneness, not wanting to be around anyone who could point an accusing finger at me or betray me. I wanted to be tough, take care of myself, move forward and save the world—but it was a wish doomed from the beginning. In truth, I was terrified, I had no idea what to do or how to do it. The only thing I had going for me was my tough attitude and my wry wit. I might be trembling on the inside, but no one would see it on the outside. Self-preservation was the cause I fought for and sarcasm was my weapon. Not enough to save me, perhaps, but enough to keep many a respectful distance from me.
I had to move on, find nourishment. I was stirring pieces of metal on the ground, looking for something I could swallow. Jason’s leather boot had long been consumed and I was getting weak. Suddenly, I heard something on the other side of the mangled beams that used to be an office building of some type. I scooted close to the iron and carefully looked over the top of the pile. A man. Was he here to steal what little edibles I had found? If so, I hoped I could bluff my way out of this before he decided to take me out.