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Post by Civil War NPC on Nov 7, 2019 13:07:09 GMT -6
These are valid concerns. I will leave this up to the members who have joined or wanted to join the war. Would you prefer a one time extension for the current main war threads, with the three day post time limit returning after that time, or a more lenient system in general?
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Post by Flare on Nov 7, 2019 13:57:43 GMT -6
I would like a more lenient system overall. x.20
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Post by Ashe on Nov 7, 2019 14:07:19 GMT -6
I cannot meet the 3 day limit so I prefer a more lenient system, I get "sit down at a computer time" one or two days a week and it's more difficult trying to type snippets of a plot filled rp post between work breaks on a cellphone. But I also understand this is my personal problem and not yours, so this is my 2 cents and I'll leave it to you and the others to decide. I just regret not having more time to dedicate, back in the day I had like 20 hours of free time a day haha
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Post by Fiera Ferella on Nov 7, 2019 14:10:16 GMT -6
Yeah, I'd definitely appreciate a more lenient system. I like Riku's idea of people getting to vote on when to move on- or even if we get 'poked' every couple of days as a reminder that the war exists. 3 days just doesn't feel like enough time? Like, what if someone gets sick and just isn't able to get on every three days, or has a day job and can only play on the weekends... for shorter/less story intensive stuff like tournaments that might be fine, but for something like the war, which is meant to be super plot heavy, I would think people would want to spend as long as possible on it to write a good story/do a good job.
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Post by Civil War NPC on Nov 7, 2019 14:37:53 GMT -6
Thank you for your feedback, it's very helpful. As most say they want a more lenient system, these will be applied after I get home from work.
Changes: -The current events are going to essentially be thrown out. The member who posted in them will still receive the bonus points for having entered the thread and as if they had completed the thread. Congrats on that nice chunk of points, Fiera.
-Instead of the [MWAR] threads, every two or three months a new 'quest idea' will be posted. Players write a story(post in plot section and roleplay about it) within the bounds of the quest idea/current state of the city, no murdering half the city for instance, and submit it at the end for points. This way players can work at their own speed, and don't have to worry about a NPC derailing their ideas and costing them time, or racing against a time limit or holding up other players. Players can roleplay together for these quests if they want, and there is no penalty for doing so. There is no point bonus to playing alone. Players are still encouraged to roleplay war things that are not a quest thread and submit them as well. However, the plot will still progress even if no one completes a war quest thread after the deadline has passed, though it might progress faster if everyone signed up finishes and submits their threads early.
-Fluff posts will keep popping up. Don't know if anyone else enjoys them, but they at least give some flavor to the current stage of the war.
-There may be NPC threads, like in the case of NPC battles, but these will be contained within the same time limit as the above. Players merely have to complete the battle/thread before the next chapter of the story starts. If, for whatever reason, there ends up being a thread with NPCs and more than one player, any of the players involved can petition to have that player skipped or ejected if they do not post for an extended(as in weeks) time.
-Finally, there will be acceleration of events. The mutual dislike the two sides have for each other will soon be pressed into something a bit stronger so players can begin fighting if they'd like.
I hope this helps.
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Post by Vixen on Nov 7, 2019 18:12:07 GMT -6
Can we restart these past threads? Honestly I didn't post because I didn't even know it had started / been posted. That's partially my fault for not checking, but They seemed fun.
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Post by Civil War NPC on Nov 7, 2019 19:46:33 GMT -6
The event threads are going to be replaced with prompts relating to them to allow players to enjoy the events at their own pace. This was requested by a decent amount of members. If any members are curious about the original events, I can post the basics of what would have happened in them.
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Post by Civil War NPC on Nov 7, 2019 20:28:36 GMT -6
The prompts are up! These will be running to roughly January 15 of 2020, so take your time and have fun!
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Post by Civil War NPC on Jan 15, 2020 9:08:31 GMT -6
The war is officially over! To find out what occurred during the official events in more detail that lead to the end, feel free to read the stuff below. A tl;dr has also been provided. The end of Shield Shield had failed every attempt to locate and stop the fiends who were attacking the citizens of the city. No volunteers stepped forward, and the few who had pledged themselves to the safety of all those in the labs and tried to uphold that pledge found themselves chasing phantoms. They were just too few to follow all of the leads, unable to locate so much as a hint of a trail to lead them to those responsible. Ridiculed by those they would protect, scorned by those who saw them as nothing more than oppressors, they nevertheless kept trying, even as the pool of members dwindled. Even as a few of the members that refused to quit hunting failed to return from a few of the hunts. Perhaps they had quietly gave up and slunk away.
The labs, the city did nothing, content to allow its citizens to train stronger, smarter beasts and build better walls in an attempt to dissuade whatever force was preying upon their livestock and goods. There were half-hearted efforts by those meant to hunt such things, but they had more than enough to deal with in the form of feral pets and abandoned brown sarane. The citizens themselves were unharmed, so why bother to chase some phantom? They were not interested.
Until whatever force that preyed upon pets and goods was no longer satisfied with either.
Those left in Shield had been searching for a pattern to the attacks, constantly picking the wrong place to stake out, but this time they had chosen the farm. A small farm, differing from many in the city that it produced and sold things. They had come later than intended, waiting until nightfall in an attempt to avoid the shouted demands of the man who owned it to stay off of his property. What they found was not the man shouting and waving a pitchfork, nor a horrible beast slinking its way around the property, but a child, dead and broken by beasts. The father himself covered in punctures and torn strips of flesh and fabric, the blood of his child and his own painting it such that it was difficult to discern what was torn fabric and what was rent flesh.
When questioned by the Shield members, he said nothing. When they tried to pull the child’s body away to see what they could do for it, he clung with what meager strength he had left to the corpse. His eyes glazed and unfocused, the Shield member that he swung at ignored the attack and watched him topple into the churned dirt.
No one would speak of the man’s original demand that Shield stay away from him when they told this tale. Nor would they mention that the leader of the shrinking group had personally dipped into their own funds to pay for the revival and healing of the man and his child. What they would say was that the small team, only intended to sneak onto the property and catch a glimpse of the foe, had contained five members. And while two had stayed with the man and corpse, the other three slipped away to follow some vague trail.
One made it back. Ignoring the silken strands of webbing clinging to her clothing and hide that had been stained by dirt and blood and fur, she informed Shield of what had happened, and Shield told the city.
The rangers and sentinels were deployed. The weaver that had seen the vespa riders floating silently in the air had been pierced by several arrows as it reached for a glittering collection of glass suspended with it in a small web. Thus the pack of vulticus, all still trapped in the form of pups, continued to play and rest. Knowing the strength of the creatures, they chose the safest option. The webbing on the trees burned away quickly, the flames leaping from tree to tree, and the rangers kept to the edges with beasts and weapons. The flames were as easily contained with magic, as easily as the howling balls of flame were with the weapons and trained beasts, their pack instincts forgotten in their desperate attempt to escape the flames.
None escaped.
Aware of their complete failure, and the inversely complete success of the rangers, Shield disbanded to allow the authorities to continue protecting the citizens. Those whose remains were found were revived, and it was if Shield had never existed.
The end of Freedom
The sunlight had just started to warm the cold air left over from the night when the last of the small stages had been built, the boards creaking under the weight of those brave few who climbed atop them to ensure no one would come crashing through the wooden frame when the time came for the speeches. Despite the first protests of the unfinished wood planks, it held the weight of all who tested them without so much as a sway, as firm as the stones of the fountain they had been built around.
The pamphlets too had been prepared, boxes only now being pried open with crowbars, the newly creased papers looked over by a few as others hung dangling posters and signs from trees and posts. The words were written in many languages, some bearing nothing more than simple art for those who could not find a recognizable word in the sea of scribbles. All spoke of welcome, of equality and knowledge shared, and those who had come to spread said knowledge were chatting with one another with glances at the few passerby and down at notes held in shaking grips.
There had been sabotage at all of the small events, minor acts of vandalism that they all blamed for the handful of members that had shown up to what should have been a massive rally. The stages that had been built would be more than enough for all of them to stand upon even if they all chose to present at once. A few laughed about that, leaning against one that sat slightly higher or wider as they called out their claim to the others. They took a few of the posters down, hanging them on the sides of their chosen stage and adding a few notations as if to help those somehow close enough to see them but unable to hear.
When the hour of the rally struck, they gave speeches to fluttering faeron and jibiji, their calls to those passing by only causing the addressed to turn their head away and speed up their gait. A few stopped to question or laugh, but no one lingered. Though it was not clear whether it was because of the memory of the past protest still fresh in their minds or a lack of interest in the weaver crafting words of silk and the yelling bipeds.
They shouted and talked and whispered, taking a swig of water more frequently as their words began to scrape their throats raw, their arms dropping to their sides and flopping halfheartedly where they once had flapped papers and pamphlets proudly in the air. Noone came to replace them, no one came to show support or stick around for even one of their speeches. Pamphlets littered the streets just a short distance away, a few blown back to them by the strengthening winds. Worried glances at possible saboteurs became a longing that something might happen and prove that someone was at least noticing them.
At the end of the rally, the sun having dipped beneath the horizon hours ago and the chill causing even the most heavily furred to interrupt their own words with the clicking of their chattering teeth, those who had stayed the whole day tore down the stages. The wood was splintered as they yanked out nails with rasped curses, the posters torn as they fought the wind to rip the flailing papers from the trees. One of them wheezed out a laugh that at least there had not been any stink bombs or shredded pamphlets, only for another to snap that at least they would not have had to lug the crates of wasted paper back home had that happened.
There were no more rallies. The few individuals would come out to yell about those the lab did not recognize as anything more than pets soon tossed down their signs to be forgotten and swept up by those collecting garbage. Freedom found itself shrink and thin to only a handful, then to nothing at all as those within it drifted away from each other. Some moved outside of the protected area of the city, others decided that they would simply care for those they had, and others merely moved on to whatever fad next caught their eye.
Tl;dr: Without people to bolster their ranks and work towards their goals, both sides collapsed fairly quickly. This resulted in a mostly bloodless ending, with neither side ever directly fighting the other. Thank you to those who participated.
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