NPC
sleep researcher
[OOC: Aaand we begin. Here is the sign-up thread, and here is the OOC thread. Please read the first post of the OOC thread, if you haven't yet, before posting.
For your first post, your character should be located on Sanctuary Island, getting used to their new daily life in the world of Lost Horizon. After everyone's made their first post, the first quest of the RPG will begin.
Please remember to include your character sheet in your first post. Your character is allowed two early-game accessories and two early-game items from the lists posted in the OOC thread. You can RP your character purchasing them from the shops, or you can start with them already in your possession. Your character will also begin with a starting weapon of their chosen type, and of your own design. Finally, bow characters also begin with an unlimited supply of Standard Arrows, and staff characters begin with two early-game spells from the list in the OOC thread.]
Santiago Cisneros / Santi_99 LV1
Human Bow
No Guild
Equipment:
Wpn: Hunter's Shortbow
Acc1: Tough Boots
Acc2: Fishing Rod
Equipped Arrow Types:
Standard Arrows xUnlimited
Item:
1. Potion
2. Bear Trap
3. --
4. --
5. --
6. --
7. --
8. --
Santiago sighed deeply, and raised his head to the cloudless blue sky, as if demanding an explanation from the heavens.
He flicked his finger across the surface of the LED panel, which had been installed outside the Guild Center on Sanctuary Island. It was a place where players of Lost Horizon could check certain stats: total hours played, daily login bonuses, new event-quests, and the like. It was also a place where one could search for other players by username. So far, he'd searched for six people that he used to play the game with years ago, but clearly none of them had been around recently... he began to lose hope of running into anyone from the good old days.
A somewhat unruly line of ogres, liliputs, and beastkin was queuing up behind him. These services were now limited, and people didn't have much patience for layabouts. Santiago wracked his brain in search for additional usernames, but he was coming up blank. It'd been so long, after all. He'd only returned to Lost Horizon on a passing whim, a moment of nostalgic weakness, and this had to happen... ah, well. He may be alone, but he couldn't hide the fact that he was a bit giddy.
Santiago left his place in line, and a liliput moved desperately up to the panel, struggling to reach it with their stubby limbs. Santiago turned and rejoined the Main Plaza of Sanctuary Island, a large, hexagonal slab of cobblestone that faced the harbor on one side, and was lined with shops on the other. He felt the salty seabreeze on his face, the tropical sun beating down on his brow, and wondered, how could it all be so real? The contours of the uneven floor under his boots, the snippets of conversation overheard by passing strangers, the gentle gurgling of the Main Plaza's fountain, the heat mirages, the crash and retreat of waves... in fact, it almost felt more real than the real world. It was a dizzying sensory overload that he'd only begun to get used to now, on the fourth day since the "Incident," as many had taken to calling it.
As a tropical island, Sanctuary was a sweltering and sunny place, though the heat never became absolutely unbearable. Certain aspects of being alive in the world of Lost Horizon were a little more comfortable, geared towards quality of life, he supposed. It was harder to break into a sweat, for example, and it didn't seem possible to suffer heatstroke or severe dehydration. Hunger, though very much a real sensation, had no tangible impact on his "health bar," a mysterious abstraction of his body's overall condition. Food and drink were free for all players on Sanctuary, but the meals themselves tasted a bit bland and samey, as many had begun to notice. He supposed that one couldn't expect much more from virtual approximations of food.
Santiago had also gained "innate knowledge" of a few other things, like all other players: at any given time, he instinctively knew, for example, how much health he had left (all of it), whether he was afflicted by a status ailment (he wasn't), and what level he was at (one). He was aware of his equipped weapon and accessories. He knew which items were in his inventory. And by simply proclaiming the name of the item he wanted out loud, it instantly materialized in his hand for use.
Santiago wore light, simple clothes that didn't offer any special bonuses or protections, and thus didn't qualify as "Accessories." His only real accessories were a pair of hardy leather boots, and a shoddy wooden fishing rod, which was slung over his back, along with his bow and quiver. Although the world of Lost Horizon offered many conveniences compared to reality, he still wasn't used to mechanics of nocking, aiming, and firing an arrow, which was all his character class was good for. (At least his quiver's supply of arrows was seemingly infinite, and magically replenished whenever it was near depletion.)
There were, of course, hundreds of other little things that made the "new" Lost Horizon experience disorienting and unlike the real world. For one, the fact that he was in a different body. It was the little things that tripped him up: realizing that he was slightly taller than his real-world self, that he no longer needed glasses, or that he was physically stronger, and in better shape than he'd ever been in the world. He couldn't even begin to imagine what a trip it must be for the people who had found themselves transported into bodies of a different gender, or species... all in all, his ride hadn't been nearly as bumpy.
As he made his way across the plaza, which had regained its reputation as the bustling heart of Sanctuary Island over the last couple days, he was forcibly reminded of the various ways in which his fellow players were coping with their new situation... or, in some cases, failing to do so. First there were the stragglers, the shellshocked ones, a pitiable minority of players who had not been able to get over the shock of the new. They were found sitting in the shade of nearby stores, staring into the middle distance; or bunched up under fabrics and old clothes, hoping to sleep away this bad dream. They refused to participate in the new world and, perhaps, were simply waiting for it all to come to an end. Many players believed, or seemed to believe, that this new status quo couldn't last forever, and eventually someone would find the way out for all to follow. Those players who had disengaged from the "new reality," and lived on the margins, were tended to by the island's NPCs, who brought them food and water periodically.
Then there were the cultists and fanatics, another visible minority who loved to gather on the plaza at high noon. They believed that this new situation was a sort of rapture: either a state of purgatory awaiting a new world, or a punishment for mortal hubris and sin. They had pooled together their meager knowledge of various world religions and come up with some patchwork cult that reminded Santiago of TV preachers and salvation evangelists, as they chanted and shook and prayed to the heavens for deliverance. He supposed that their method was as valid as anyone else's, given how little everyone knew about this reality.
And then there was the considerable majority of players, who had slowly but surely begun to develop a new routine in this new world. Many of them had taken up some sort of craft, and others were amateur researchers, trying to uncover whatever they could about their world. The Plaza was enlivened by these people, going about their day, making sure to procure resources for themselves. Even through Sanctuary was a lax and bountiful place, where no one had to go hungry or destitute, there was a certain panic to the way many people went about their routine, as if they were expecting it all come crashing down at any moment.
Among the active players, a steadily-increasing minority had begun to venture out of the safety of Sanctuary Island and into the monster-infested areas, where it was possible to suffer a painful death. Of course, it had been proven that death in this world was nothing but a temporary setback, but nobody looked forward to it; it was hard to overcome a lifetime of conditioning, and throw your sense of self-preservation away. (Not to mention the considerable inconvenience of losing all your gear.) Still, Santiago looked at these players with begrudging admiration, as their Guild-issued ships sailed out of the busy harbor. To go on a real adventure with like-minded companions, to sail the ancient seas and uncover the still-mysterious secrets of Lost Horizons outer reaches... he couldn't say he wasn't tempted. But he had no Guild prospects at the moment, and none of his old online buddies appeared to have been sucked into the game with him...
His introspection was interrupted by a sudden commotion ahead, and a circle of players forming near the outer reaches of the plaza. Voices became louder and the spectators spread out. Santiago struggled to peek over an ogre's towering shoulders, but he soon realized what it was: another fight.
Since Sanctuary Island was a zone where PvP was turned off, it was impossible for one player to deal "damage" to another player's health bar. But it was now possible to inflict pain the traditional way: by hitting someone until they begged you to stop. As such, some bored individuals had begun to take out their frustrations on each other by engaging in endless fights where neither party could truly be defeated... it was simply a matter of inflicting enough pain on your opponent for them to give up. And what's more, idle bystanders had taken to betting on the outcome of these protracted fights, because it was something to do...
He suspected that the social fabric of Sanctuary Island was beginning to fray. Some of the people here couldn't deal with their present situation, and were resorting to destruction or denial. He feared for the future of the island, and wondered if he'd be forced to leave it in the near future.
But before Santiago could continue that train of thought, he was suddenly shoved into the circle by an unseen assailant, and found himself in the middle of the action, as a small crowd cheered around him and created a ring of bodies that he could not escape. Santiago looked around, startled, not fully taking in the situation. Before him was a tiger-type beastkin, a towering anthropomorph holding up his fists in a boxing stance. He was motioning to him.
Santiago's eyes widened like saucers, and he raised his hands in an attempt to defuse the situation. "I-I'm not a fighter! You've got the wrong guy!"
But the maddened crowd wasn't interested. When the sun was at its highest point and the virtual heat turned up, all they wanted to see was blood.
For your first post, your character should be located on Sanctuary Island, getting used to their new daily life in the world of Lost Horizon. After everyone's made their first post, the first quest of the RPG will begin.
Please remember to include your character sheet in your first post. Your character is allowed two early-game accessories and two early-game items from the lists posted in the OOC thread. You can RP your character purchasing them from the shops, or you can start with them already in your possession. Your character will also begin with a starting weapon of their chosen type, and of your own design. Finally, bow characters also begin with an unlimited supply of Standard Arrows, and staff characters begin with two early-game spells from the list in the OOC thread.]
Santiago Cisneros / Santi_99 LV1
Human Bow
No Guild
Equipment:
Wpn: Hunter's Shortbow
Acc1: Tough Boots
Acc2: Fishing Rod
Equipped Arrow Types:
Standard Arrows xUnlimited
Item:
1. Potion
2. Bear Trap
3. --
4. --
5. --
6. --
7. --
8. --
***
"... Last logged on: 26 months ago."
Santiago sighed deeply, and raised his head to the cloudless blue sky, as if demanding an explanation from the heavens.
He flicked his finger across the surface of the LED panel, which had been installed outside the Guild Center on Sanctuary Island. It was a place where players of Lost Horizon could check certain stats: total hours played, daily login bonuses, new event-quests, and the like. It was also a place where one could search for other players by username. So far, he'd searched for six people that he used to play the game with years ago, but clearly none of them had been around recently... he began to lose hope of running into anyone from the good old days.
A somewhat unruly line of ogres, liliputs, and beastkin was queuing up behind him. These services were now limited, and people didn't have much patience for layabouts. Santiago wracked his brain in search for additional usernames, but he was coming up blank. It'd been so long, after all. He'd only returned to Lost Horizon on a passing whim, a moment of nostalgic weakness, and this had to happen... ah, well. He may be alone, but he couldn't hide the fact that he was a bit giddy.
Santiago left his place in line, and a liliput moved desperately up to the panel, struggling to reach it with their stubby limbs. Santiago turned and rejoined the Main Plaza of Sanctuary Island, a large, hexagonal slab of cobblestone that faced the harbor on one side, and was lined with shops on the other. He felt the salty seabreeze on his face, the tropical sun beating down on his brow, and wondered, how could it all be so real? The contours of the uneven floor under his boots, the snippets of conversation overheard by passing strangers, the gentle gurgling of the Main Plaza's fountain, the heat mirages, the crash and retreat of waves... in fact, it almost felt more real than the real world. It was a dizzying sensory overload that he'd only begun to get used to now, on the fourth day since the "Incident," as many had taken to calling it.
As a tropical island, Sanctuary was a sweltering and sunny place, though the heat never became absolutely unbearable. Certain aspects of being alive in the world of Lost Horizon were a little more comfortable, geared towards quality of life, he supposed. It was harder to break into a sweat, for example, and it didn't seem possible to suffer heatstroke or severe dehydration. Hunger, though very much a real sensation, had no tangible impact on his "health bar," a mysterious abstraction of his body's overall condition. Food and drink were free for all players on Sanctuary, but the meals themselves tasted a bit bland and samey, as many had begun to notice. He supposed that one couldn't expect much more from virtual approximations of food.
Santiago had also gained "innate knowledge" of a few other things, like all other players: at any given time, he instinctively knew, for example, how much health he had left (all of it), whether he was afflicted by a status ailment (he wasn't), and what level he was at (one). He was aware of his equipped weapon and accessories. He knew which items were in his inventory. And by simply proclaiming the name of the item he wanted out loud, it instantly materialized in his hand for use.
Santiago wore light, simple clothes that didn't offer any special bonuses or protections, and thus didn't qualify as "Accessories." His only real accessories were a pair of hardy leather boots, and a shoddy wooden fishing rod, which was slung over his back, along with his bow and quiver. Although the world of Lost Horizon offered many conveniences compared to reality, he still wasn't used to mechanics of nocking, aiming, and firing an arrow, which was all his character class was good for. (At least his quiver's supply of arrows was seemingly infinite, and magically replenished whenever it was near depletion.)
There were, of course, hundreds of other little things that made the "new" Lost Horizon experience disorienting and unlike the real world. For one, the fact that he was in a different body. It was the little things that tripped him up: realizing that he was slightly taller than his real-world self, that he no longer needed glasses, or that he was physically stronger, and in better shape than he'd ever been in the world. He couldn't even begin to imagine what a trip it must be for the people who had found themselves transported into bodies of a different gender, or species... all in all, his ride hadn't been nearly as bumpy.
As he made his way across the plaza, which had regained its reputation as the bustling heart of Sanctuary Island over the last couple days, he was forcibly reminded of the various ways in which his fellow players were coping with their new situation... or, in some cases, failing to do so. First there were the stragglers, the shellshocked ones, a pitiable minority of players who had not been able to get over the shock of the new. They were found sitting in the shade of nearby stores, staring into the middle distance; or bunched up under fabrics and old clothes, hoping to sleep away this bad dream. They refused to participate in the new world and, perhaps, were simply waiting for it all to come to an end. Many players believed, or seemed to believe, that this new status quo couldn't last forever, and eventually someone would find the way out for all to follow. Those players who had disengaged from the "new reality," and lived on the margins, were tended to by the island's NPCs, who brought them food and water periodically.
Then there were the cultists and fanatics, another visible minority who loved to gather on the plaza at high noon. They believed that this new situation was a sort of rapture: either a state of purgatory awaiting a new world, or a punishment for mortal hubris and sin. They had pooled together their meager knowledge of various world religions and come up with some patchwork cult that reminded Santiago of TV preachers and salvation evangelists, as they chanted and shook and prayed to the heavens for deliverance. He supposed that their method was as valid as anyone else's, given how little everyone knew about this reality.
And then there was the considerable majority of players, who had slowly but surely begun to develop a new routine in this new world. Many of them had taken up some sort of craft, and others were amateur researchers, trying to uncover whatever they could about their world. The Plaza was enlivened by these people, going about their day, making sure to procure resources for themselves. Even through Sanctuary was a lax and bountiful place, where no one had to go hungry or destitute, there was a certain panic to the way many people went about their routine, as if they were expecting it all come crashing down at any moment.
Among the active players, a steadily-increasing minority had begun to venture out of the safety of Sanctuary Island and into the monster-infested areas, where it was possible to suffer a painful death. Of course, it had been proven that death in this world was nothing but a temporary setback, but nobody looked forward to it; it was hard to overcome a lifetime of conditioning, and throw your sense of self-preservation away. (Not to mention the considerable inconvenience of losing all your gear.) Still, Santiago looked at these players with begrudging admiration, as their Guild-issued ships sailed out of the busy harbor. To go on a real adventure with like-minded companions, to sail the ancient seas and uncover the still-mysterious secrets of Lost Horizons outer reaches... he couldn't say he wasn't tempted. But he had no Guild prospects at the moment, and none of his old online buddies appeared to have been sucked into the game with him...
His introspection was interrupted by a sudden commotion ahead, and a circle of players forming near the outer reaches of the plaza. Voices became louder and the spectators spread out. Santiago struggled to peek over an ogre's towering shoulders, but he soon realized what it was: another fight.
Since Sanctuary Island was a zone where PvP was turned off, it was impossible for one player to deal "damage" to another player's health bar. But it was now possible to inflict pain the traditional way: by hitting someone until they begged you to stop. As such, some bored individuals had begun to take out their frustrations on each other by engaging in endless fights where neither party could truly be defeated... it was simply a matter of inflicting enough pain on your opponent for them to give up. And what's more, idle bystanders had taken to betting on the outcome of these protracted fights, because it was something to do...
He suspected that the social fabric of Sanctuary Island was beginning to fray. Some of the people here couldn't deal with their present situation, and were resorting to destruction or denial. He feared for the future of the island, and wondered if he'd be forced to leave it in the near future.
But before Santiago could continue that train of thought, he was suddenly shoved into the circle by an unseen assailant, and found himself in the middle of the action, as a small crowd cheered around him and created a ring of bodies that he could not escape. Santiago looked around, startled, not fully taking in the situation. Before him was a tiger-type beastkin, a towering anthropomorph holding up his fists in a boxing stance. He was motioning to him.
Santiago's eyes widened like saucers, and he raised his hands in an attempt to defuse the situation. "I-I'm not a fighter! You've got the wrong guy!"
But the maddened crowd wasn't interested. When the sun was at its highest point and the virtual heat turned up, all they wanted to see was blood.
Last edited:
