Posts by The Crimson King

Let's Share! has (finally) launched! Our first article is a World of Tanks Guide by Enderclaw!
Check out this announcement about a new Power Reset item being added to the Inventory Store!

    I might make more later.

    Seems a bit to specific a job, I think. The pilot would likely radio at the port before landing and would maintain all other immediate contact; I don't see a need for one specific person to speak to people trying to contact the crew.

    I've also realised we're probably going to need one or several people to play key characters that aren't part of the crew, so someone like what you're talking about would probably need to be played by someone.

    Oh nice; the spot is yours. Everyone is accepted in case anyone was skeptical that they weren't.

    Edit: I'm gonna make an over-concerned robot cook and he will be glorious.

    Edit-2: He is finished and you can read about him in the first post right under Myra's form. And with that we are out of predetermined positions and with only 3 open spots.


    Feel the breeze.

    (A space western.)

    When you've run out of options, you're destined to break some rules to get by. In the year 20XX, in the very same solar system you and I live in now, it's becoming increasingly more difficult for lower ranking people in society to live happy lives, and become criminals to make more money than the government expects them to, though their happiness is often shirt lived due to the oppressive nature of the Democratic Hegemony of Mankind (DHM) [often pronounced 'Dahm']. As such small groups of criminals band together to take odd jobs and live together in rag-tag families, usually calling their spacecraft their only home.

    We follow one such family, who lives upon an Swordbird Class 0 named New World.

    The smaller and far closer troopers seemed taken aback for a solid ten seconds as their unexpectedly alive food cried aloud; the leftmost guard flinched away as she began screaming, screaming in terror himself, "Not a corpsse! Kills it! Kiiiillsss iiit!" The taller and father away creatures began steadily moving on her as well, the second tallest drawing his pike from his back, copying his superior's movement in pointing the top of his weapon forward as they charged at the human.

    A little ways away was another humanoid creature native to this world, yet dissimilar to the armored bloodhounds that scavenged for rotting flesh. His arms crossed over his mostly covered chest as he leaned against a large sandstone deposit, his glowing white eyes shadowed by his concealed eyelids, a large cigar clenched between his large set of flat teeth. His pleasantry was abruptly ceased by the sounds of horrid screaming, "What in th'fUCK is THAT?" He couldn't help but wonder aloud, kicking away from the stone at his back to begin sauntering towards the source of the screaming with some fearful desperation powering his feet to move faster.

    A troop of armored humanoids trek along the shoreline, the tallest of them stopping in his tracks, placing his halberd-like weapon across the chests of his inferiors, holding them back, "Aa corpssse?" A raspy voice chokes out of his face-shaped mask, a light gargle accenting his disgusting vocalization. The second tallest of the platoon nudges the guard away, roughly dragging the remaining warriors close, "Weee ssshould eat-sss it; thhhe kiiing caan fend-sss off-s hiss hunger-s for-ss'a daay, yesss?" The slightly smaller officers murmured, among themselves, as if speculating if their superior's idea was worthwhile. They were hungry, and the king was a glutton that horded every corpse they came across for himself. The tallest of the group seemed to sigh, the breath singing out of it's mask's mouthpiece, "Go eat-s it, boyss." There was a mutual cheer among the squad, they them began their trot towards the washed up body, pulling off their iron masks to reveal only hungry mouths upon their scaly faces, needle-like teeth jutting from their jaws, a forked tongue licking each set of chops. Their armored hands grasping the air between the ever shrinking gap between they and their meal.