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Mentality

Fight For Freedom

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You find yourself stranded on an island with nothing but your weapon, some tools to help you survive, and other people stranded just like you. It turns out that you're all involved in a game for your survival. So it's pretty simple right? If you say so...

 

There are dozens of you, and the winner gets to leave the island and return to civilization, along with an undisclosed amount of prize money. But in order to leave, you must be the last one standing, meaning that all of the other contestants must be dead. There are a few questions running through your mind, such as who is behind this evil plot? How do you expect to come out victorious? Is there any other way to get off this island besides slaying everyone else? Put your survival skills to the test, and see if you have what it takes to make it off the island!

 

App:

 

Name:

Age:

Gender:

Location: (Where you're from)

Appearance:

Personality:

Occupation before being stranded:

Primary Weapon(s):

Secondary Weapon(s):

History:

Other:

 

 

Name: Andre Sanchez

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Location: Bronx, New York, USA

Appearance: Cornrows, dark skin, brown eyes, muscular, about 6"2, mean looking face

Personality: extremely competitive, violent, trash-talker type, not so friendly

Occupation before being stranded: High School Graduate

Primary Weapon(s): Dual Sub-Machine Guns

Secondary Weapon(s): a 7-inch knife

History: Andre was living his normal life in the Bronx, drug dealing immediately after he graduated high school, and a colorful criminal record. On his way to the corner store, he was beat down and thrown into a black van, never to be seen again. The next thing he knew he was dropped off on the island, and the people in the boat gave him the instructions of the game.

Other: His competitive nature will let almost nothing get in the way of his freedom.

 

Apps will be open as of now and I'm looking to have about 6-7 people before we start.

 

All characters are told the instructions of the game when they are dumped on the island by boat, so you should start the Rp by waking up or walking around, any of that good stuff.

Edited by Mentality

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-I'm going to go to town on a survival RP :wizard:

 

Name: Sam Axe

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Location:(Where you're from) Pennsylvania

Appearance: Short, dark brown hair; Muscular build; 6'4; green eyes

Personality: Sam is a big talker, but always knows how to back it up. Sam is the kind of guy that likes to take charge in a situation and is always aware of the situation.

Occupation before being stranded: Student; went back to college to get his Masters in Medicine.

Primary Weapon(s): 2009 Firecat Pro-X Bow

Secondary Weapon(s): Tomahawk made from 1055 carbon steel with concealed 12' throwing knife in the handle; 18' Kukri Machete

History: Sam was born to two high school dropouts; ages 20 (father) and 16 (mother). When his parents couldn't handle the responsibility, he went to live with his grandparents (Tom and Betty) in Hawaii. His grandparents owned a private home on one of the smaller chain of islands, so there were very few others that lived on the island, most of which he never met. In his spare time, he and his grandpa, who was a former Navy Seal, spent time trekking through the brush and forest areas to help Sam get adapted to these type of areas. It was Tom's dream to have Sam becoming a Navy Seal as well. Tom taught Sam many things about the Wilderness, sea life, fighting, and medicine - which was in fact Sam's least favorite subject. One day, Tom fell off a ledge after the mud had made it very slippery. Sam had to carry his grandpa back to their house alone, which was about a quarter of a mile through all the mud and debris that was in his way. After they got back and the doctor was called in Sam got to see, first-hand, how to help someone and he became hooked on it, but never once did he stop loving the outdoors.

Other: He was lured away by a man who said his mom had fallen down some stairs and needed help picking her up. A man grabbed him from behind with a chloroform rag and he passed out then woke up on the island.

Edited by Byahh

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Name: Solomon Joeseph Daniels

Age: 28

Gender: Male

Location: (Where you're from) From Saint Louis, lives in Montana

Appearance: African American, Short Hair, Well Built, 5'11''

Personality: Reserved and quiet, yet somewhat friendly. No tolerance of stupidity.

Occupation before being stranded: Lawyer, avid hunter

Primary Weapon(s): Mathews Inc. Monster XLR8 Comp. Bow w/ Carbon Express Hunting Arrows; S&W Model 460XVR Hunter Revolver w/ Required Bullets

Secondary Weapon(s): Natchez Bowie Knife, Kukri Machete

History: Solomon Daniels grew up with is life devoted to the Scouts - he was the youngest ever Eagle Scout in history. He was among the most decorated, and was able to use his accomplishments to get into the top schools in the country. While others his age were busy with fast paced urban life, Solomon found his way into the art of hunting. After receiving his degree in legal practices, he moved from Saint Louis to Montana. He started his own practice with another hotshot lawyer and virtually fell into money. He practically lived in the wilderness outside his home and often trekked for days by himself, pushing his limits. He is skilled with a knife and an expert marksman - however, he rarely uses anything more than a bow or revolver to solve his problems. He was on his latest survival trip when he was ambushed and abducted - however, his captors lost 4 men in the process of the kidnapping. Next thing he knew, he was on a tropical shore with the items he was most familiar with - his trusted hunting equipment. Next to the tools was a sealed envelope, holding his instructions. Once he finishes reading, he gets his gear together and heads into the woods - he's hungry.

Edited by Redicaluss

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Name: Tristan Campbell

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Location: Bangor, Maine

Appearance: Tall, thin, brown hair, green eyed. A real non-descript type of guy. If this guy was your brother, you'd probably still have trouble recognising him on the street.

Personality: The quiet, studious type with a fiery streak to his nature. Struggles with his violent tempter as a student of Christian pacifism.

Occupation before being stranded: Struggling artist :wizard:

Primary Weapon(s): M16A4 rifle (Can't see him using it much tho)

Secondary Weapon(s): Carving Knife

History: Tristan Campbell grew up an angry boy. His parent's spoilt him chronic and he always had trouble restraining himself from violence. After a few fairly serious fights, he turned to Jesus and his Christian Pacifist teachings in order to learn some self control. It was around this time he found his passion for painting, and he managed to sell enough of his work to get by. His life was all coming together, although he found it more and more difficult to restrain himself from letting his anger get away from him. He snaps finally in a heated argument with a man in a bar, starting a brawl. He betrays his teachings and fights his way out, until somebody knocks him out. When he awakes, it is on a tropical island, with everything he needs to start the game.

 

Let's get it on!

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Name: Eric Green

Age: 28

Gender: Male

Location: New York, New York

Appearance: Has a huge scar going diagonally down his back; quite muscly.

Personality: I don't like these, but in one word, crazy.

Primary Weapon(s): AK-47, .44 Magnum.

Secondary Weapon(s): Machete

History: At the age of 6, Eric made his first theft. Ever since then, he's been wreaking havok all over the world, robbing and killing whenever he can. Before they came for him, he was in Deathrow and sentenced with 4 life sentences for a triple homicide. So the chance for money and the ability to return home as a free man was enough of a temptation for Eric, and he was one of the few people to go to the island willingly. He sits now, reading further instructions as he's armed to the teeth.

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OOC: Accepted. Now we'll start. :wizard:

 

IC: Andre sat up in the sand, wondering where on earth he could possibly be. He looked out to the sea and just saw endless water.

 

"Well, there has to be other people on this island for the competition. I better keep my guard up." he said to himself.

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IC:

 

As the effects of the chloroform wore off, Sam woke up and was extremely thirsty. He felt around for the bag he had with him with a bottle of water only to find out that his bag was missing, all he had was his typical wilderness gear; minus the food and water. Ahhh great, Sam, what have you gotten yourself into now? He thought. What he did find was a set of instructions in his pocket, it read:

 

Contestant:

 

Greetings! Welcome to the island, as I'm sure you are aware, you have been taken hostage and dumped onto an undisclosed island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. You will remain on this island for as long as there are others still alive. You may use any means necessary to eliminate your opponents. Your prize: your freedom. We have supplied you with gear that we found in your home that we believe would best aid you in your survival. Good luck and good hunting.

 

???

 

Well, this will be interesting.

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IC: Andre started to make his way into the forest, gripping one of his SMGs in his right hand, waiting for someone to pop out of nowhere.

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I.C.

 

The scene switches to the other side of the island, where Solomon is discreetly cooking his fresh kill. He eats and finishes quickly, disposing of all evidence that he set foot in the area. Aware that others are on the island, he makes sure his revolver is set for a quick draw and heads into the forest once again, looking for suitable, hidden shelter.

 

As he walks in a brisk yet silent pace, he hears a faint patter of feet. Trace thoughts of initiating a conflict enter his head, but he decides to just watch for now. Never too busy to get to know the enemy... He quickly monkey-climbs the nearest tree and conceals himself, revolver ready in case he needs to protect himself.

Edited by Redicaluss

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IC: As Andre is pushing through the leaves of the trees, he sees someone running through the bushes ahead of him. He decided to follow them and see what they were up to, hoping to make his first kill of the day. He ran through the same bushes as his prey did, and held up his gun.

 

"Come out, come out, where ever you are..."

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Tristan stood on the beach, tracing random figures into the sand with the barrel of his gun. He sighed, struggling to hold onto his tempter. That damned temper of his! He had tried to hold onto it, goddamn it he had, but how could you in this world? A single punch thrown in a moment of anger, the next he was on this freaking island in the middle of nowhere!

 

Was God testing him? Was this all a giant setup to see if he could truly keep his temper once for all? He contemplated the gun in his hand, grinned grimly, and took up his pack. He would get off this island. He would be the last one standing. But he promised himself, he would not kill, no matter the circumstance.

 

He looked to the sun, the same sun that shone down on each of his distant competitors.

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IC:

 

Sam made his way through the brush and found a lake of fresh water, where he enthusiastically freshened up.

 

I never knew water could taste SO good. He thought.

 

After sitting there for a while, and after feeling refreshed, Sam felt a rumbling in his stomach.

 

Food; I should get some.

 

He then wandered out into the middle of the forest with the intention of bringing back a fresh rabbit. He grabbed his 2009 Firecat Pro-X and a few arrows that he managed to fletch and left the rest of his gear hidden among some distinguishable bushes. He wandered around his section of the island for a good twenty minutes before giving up on the idea of getting some meat.

 

Not one creature anywhere around here; quite peculiar.

 

He stumbled upon some bushes with some edible berries and some with not-so-edible berries in addition to some assorted fruits. For the next 15 minutes, Sam had to peruse his memory to remember with of these fruits and berries he could eat. After determining which ones were good it was around dusk. He gathered up the edible ones and brought them back to camp. He then searched through his bag for his knife and used it to cut up the fruits. It wasn't a feast, but it was enough.

Edited by Byahh

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OoC: Slight character control warning.

 

IC:

 

Surely, life couldn't get much better than this. He was a free man, surrounded by beautiful scenery, with the license to kill all he wanted. But he wasn't stupid; in fact, his intelligence was one of the only reasons he didn't get caught much, much earlier, and he knew that it would be impossible to survive without allies. The first thing he went about doing was exploring the jungle. Most of the people would be too cautious to explore it the first day; they would only turn to it when their bellies began to empty.

 

A rustling ripped him from his pondering, and he quickly flattened his body to the ground. "Come out, come out, wherever you are..." A man was running away from the voice, a terrified look on his face. Eric ran after him, his machete out already. The man only had time to turn around; then Eric was upon him, putting a screed hand over his mouth. Dropping the machete with his other hand, Eric decided it would be unwise to kill him sloppily, instead opting to wrap his hands around the other man's neck, cutting off his airways completely. The man tried desperately to break free, but the murderer's strength was too much for him, and eventually he fell still, his eyes glazing over. Eric pressed an ear to the man's chest to verify his heart had stopped beating, then drew out his AK-47 and aimed it in the direction of the voice, scanning the jungle constantly. He concealed himself within a bush as he heard the man come closer and closer, keeping his AK-47 out.

 

The man walked into sight, noticing his dead breathren on the ground, and suddenly a mixture of shock and fear took over his face. The man searched the jungle expertly, looking for signs of life, but he did not spot Eric. As his back was turned to Eric, Eric grinned, thinking of another corpse sitting by the one, but suddenly, he noticed a prison tattoo on the man's hand, and he hesitated. Perhaps this man would be worth keeping alive a little while after all... "We have something in common." Eric called out, keeping his voice steady and his body still. "Both of us have been oppressed and kept down by society; both of us have been jailed for our resistance." As Eric continued to talk, the man walked slowly towards his voice, drawing closer and closer to his hiding spot. "Now, I come to you with an offer... Join me in an alliance, swear by the Criminal's Code to uphold it, and I will allow you to live." The man drew closer and Eric's hands gripped tighter on his weapon. "Refuse, and I'll do what I have to in order to survive." The man discreetly peered into the bushes surrounding him. "Together, we have a higher chance of survival. In fact, we may be able to find the prize money as well as an escape route out of here, and be back home before they know what happened. Of course, if we are the only two remaining, the alliance would be nullified immediately, and it will be every man for himself once again..." Eric stood up, fully exposing himself to the other man's weapon. His heart was beating faster than it ever had before, even faster than his last firefight with the cops. His AK-47 lay at his side, but it was loaded and ready to blow the man away if he showed the tiniest sign of malice. "Well? What do you say?"

Edited by Nachomamma8

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IC: Tristan wandered up and down the beach, talking nonsense to himself. He had ditched his shirt a little while ago, and already the sun was making its angry red mark against his skin. He was thirsty, he was hungry, he was tired and he was scared. Out of those four plagues, thirst was the greatest. What was that line from some poem he had long since forgotten. "water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink"? Something to that effect. He looked at the sparkling ocean before him and frowned. This was complete insanity.

 

"What we need, Tristan," he began, talking to himself and not minding one bit, "Is some sort of game plan. We're not going to pace the beach until someone comes along and puts a tonne of hot lead into you!"

 

He nodded his agreement. There had to something on this island he could hide in for a while. A cave, a hollow tree, anything. With that in mind, he took up his gun, hitched his pack higher, and nodded a regretful goodbye to the tranquil ocean. The beach had only been the beginning. It was the jungle that hid his death and his salvation behind its thick, green foilage.

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IC:

 

Sam finished up his meal and went to sleep for an hour or so but was woken up by some sounds in the nearby brush. Sam picked up his gear and hid it in a bush, along with himself. A few minutes passed and Sam dismissed the noises as nothing, however the noises did inspire him to make some sort of a shelter. Packing up his gear, Sam left the sandy beaches and headed inland.

 

Hopefully I won't run into anyone. He thought. At least not until I get situated on this island.

 

Sam got far enough inward where he could no longer see the shoreline. There were trees and bushes dense enough to keep anything at bay, not to mention a small reservoir of fresh water fairly close by. Sam wasted no time in setting up a small hut, using his tomahawk and machete to cut down the small trees in the area that he had planned on making his camp. It took him a good two hours to chop down the required amount of tree to make into a small hut, luckily for him, all of the trees were close enough together so that he didn't have to go too far, nor did he have to expose himself to any unwanted visitors. Sam searched through his bag and came across a ball of string.

 

This will have to do.

 

Using the string; a lot of it, Sam tied the trees together to create a poorly-made hut. After which he gathered large leaves and other small twigs and tied them together to the best of his ability and made a roof. The roof, too, was poorly made, but it would have to do. Only after the task was finished, did Sam realized that he couldn't be attacked from any side, unless of course, they dropped in from the ledge above.

 

For an island where every other person I see on it will be trying to kill me, this isn't so bad. He thought before drifting off to sleep.

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OOC: Nachomamma i assume you're talking to me.

 

IC: "Hmm...Anythin' to get off this stupid island." Andre replied softly,"What's your name?"

 

Andre continued to keep his gun aimed at him, in case he tried anything funny. Andre was going to get off this island, winner or not.

Edited by Mentality

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OOC: I changed mine because of Mentality's post before mine. This is aimed at Byaah, if it's too much character control, I'll change it again.

 

IC: Luckily, Solomon had become concealed quickly enough to keep himself safe for the moment. However, what he observed next worried him. He watched as a burn-scarred man wandered past his tree and head towards a clump of bushes and fronds, as if following something directly. It then dawned on him that this "clump" was a well-concealed hut! He then saw another man around his age pop up out of the fronds and sneak around the would-be assailant and take out a gleaming tomahawk. Solomon knew what was going on, and knew that he needed to intervene. Alliances that didn't include him were dangerous, and he needed to make one of his own. Luckily, he saw this as a chance to prove his survival prowess to the man with the tomahawk and clinch a quick agreement. However, the man looked like he knew his stuff - he would need to be handled carefully.

 

Solomon hoisted his hunting bow, attached an arrow, aimed, and waited for the perfect time to force his missile through the burned man's upper left torso. He soon saw his chance and loosed his arrow, the weapon making nothing more than a *twang-whistle* as it cut through the air. It hit its target and downed the unsuspecting man, who merely clutched his chest as he hit the underbrush with a dull thud.

 

Solomon was quick to vocalize his intentions to the tomahawk man. "Don't worry, sir," he yelled from another concealed position. "I don't plan on killing you - if you agree to some conditions... I don't require much. I only want a guarantee that we can enjoy peaceful relations while we hunt the others on this island. Make a wise choice, man... Don't think I won't down you too. I think we both have the experience needed to solve some of our... problems..."

Edited by Redicaluss

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OOC: Actually, the only thing really CC about it, is you shooting him in the chest, because it could seriously injure him. Maybe you could change it to shooting him in the leg, or let him decide when he replies.

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OOC: Actually, the only thing really CC about it, is you shooting him in the chest, because it could seriously injure him. Maybe you could change it to shooting him in the leg, or let him decide when he replies.

 

OOC: I made up the guy I shot, he's just a means to the end. Is that alright? I never harmed Byaah.

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OoC:

 

It's weird, I was going to propose an alliance with you later down the road, but for now there are a few things wrong with your IC

 

1. I'm on the other side of the island, at least I think I am, I know I am on the opposite side of the island from Nachomamma and Mentality, so if you are near them you are not near me and vice versa.

 

2. I'm asleep...what type of d-bag shoots a guy while he's asleep!?!!?!?!?!?!?!? :wizard:

 

Same here, i didn't read these last couple posts so I thought you shot me.

Edited by Byahh

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I'm assuming that he's near you, but IDK. When Nachomamma replies, then we'll continue our part of the rp.

Edited by Mentality

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IC:

 

"My name is Eric Green. I come from the streets of New York City. Parents died young, and I did what I had to to survive. Cops didn't like it, and I ended up with a life sentence; this little game was the only way I could ever get out prison... Only problem, is I don't like people playin me, and quite frankly, the owners of this little island are shady, and I doubt they'd let us go, just like that, with a suitcase full of money. This little venture of theirs is illegal, I know that. And being from off the streets, there's no way that they'll just let us go with the money and the knowledge... I guess I've gone soft over the years, because I trust you." Eric flicked on the safety, then dropped his gun to the ground. "So go ahead and shoot me, but I can guarantee without my help, neither of us will get out of this alive."

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