The Bioshock Meme

[eightlazylegs]

The Bioshock Meme



Welcome to Rapture, Andrew Ryan's undersea utopia gone horridly wrong. The beauty of the city hides the dark, catastrophic horrors lurking within. Genetic modification via plasmids is all the rage, from fire-slinging to hands that shoot bees, and art deco architecture mingles with mindbogglingly advanced technology. Unfortunately there's trouble in paradise and this place is starting to fall apart. Grab a wrench, stick a needle in your wrist, and watch your back...would you kindly?

+ Post your character, canon and any role preferences.
+ Go to RNG and roll for your role and era, or just choose from the list below.


Role
1.Businessman: You're a captain of industry, ready to make your mark on Rapture with a little boost from the city's Objectivist principles. It's shiny suits and fine cigars from here on out as you build your business on the backs of the less fortunate.
2. Laborer: Maybe you had dreams of glory when you came down here, but now you're gutting fish down by the docks. Someone has to do the dirty work, after all, and the free market doesn't guarantee good working conditions or a decent wage.
3. Scientist: The best kind of science is the kind with no ethical regulations. You can raise the full potential of humanity through genetic modification, create steam-powered AIs, and experiment on stolen children to your heart's content.
4. Artist: On the surface you might have been subjected to cruel censorship, but down here it's freedom of expression all the way. Dance, sing, paint, write, whatever the muse decrees is yours to create. Unless your art upsets the wrong people, of course...then you might have to deal with some very aggressive critics.
5.Revolutionary: You've had just about enough of this Andrew Ryan business. Atlas promises the fair treatment Rapture's never given you, if you'll only support him. Now it's time to take up arms against the rich aristocracy and win the city back for the people.
6. Big Daddy: You are a hapless prisoner who's been heavily mutated and steam-sealed into a massive diving suit. Thanks to careful conditioning, your only purpose in life is to protect your little sister...and to stick a whirring drill through anyone who'd want to hurt her.
7. Little Sister: You are a young girl (or boy) selected for a very important purpose. You drain blood from corpses and consume it to feed the Adam-producing slug implanted in your stomach. Stay close to Daddy--Adam's essential for plasmids and people will do just about anything to get it.
8. Splicer: Turns out that plasmid overuse comes with a few problems. You've injected too many superpowers into your system and now you've gone insane. Splicers come in several forms, and all of them are dangerous.
9. Topsider: By design or accident, you've come down from the surface world. Perhaps you sought fortune, perhaps you're just better unlucky. Either way you're probably going to regret being here.
10. Wild Card

Era:
1.Golden Age of Rapture: It's the early days of Rapture and the city's still got that shiny new-utopia smell. Astounding strides are being made in science and technology, and gene splicing is just taking off. Trouble's brewing under the surface but for now, relax and enjoy the ride.
2.Rapture Civil War: In 1958 the trouble comes to a boil. A city-wide battle rages between the faction of Ryan and the faction of Atlas, destroying all semblance of the utopia that never was. Pick a side or just hunker down until the bullets stop flying.
3. Post-War Rapture: The city's a wreck, everything's gone to hell, and Rapture's crawling with splicers. What few inhabitants retain their sanity pick their way through the ruins, scavenging supplies and plasmids in an ongoing quest to survive. Perhaps you're a traveler or perhaps you've just boarded yourself up in your private sanctum to wait out the carnage. Good luck staying alive!

Comments

Music Meister | Batman

[hypnotic_patter]

[Most likely artist. Gonna go all Sander Cohen on this shit.]

Post-War?

[recrowned]

[OOC: You as an artist and me/Zuko as a splicer? Also, I apologize in advance for the length.]

The prince had taken a few too many plasmids. His fire bending seemed at abnormal strength. When he overuses it, he becomes far to exhausted for his own good. Not that that mattered, his opponents never lasted long enough for him to reach that point. Somehow the plasmids had also affected his hearing, which was something that he hadn't anticipated. He heard everything in a more muffled and slowed down manner.

Apparently, a few of the plasmids that he took allowed him to teleport. Not very far distances, but far enough to throw off most opponents. He used it as sort of a hit-and-run technique when he fights, which was pretty effective.

He wandered the streets in search of a worthy adversary. Every stray topsider, businessman, laborer, scientist, and even other splicers that he ran into were no match for the strength of his fire and the speed of his teleportation.

He heard a sound that seemed as if it came out of the network of tunnels that led deep into the city. He could see the entrance from where he was standing. It probably wasn't more than a couple hundred feet away.

Maybe it was music he heard from the tunnel. He couldn't tell because it was muffled from the overuse of the plasmids, but it interested him. He started to trudge towards it. He then placed himself at the entrance to the network of tunnels using his abilities.

"Let's see what is in store for me," he grumbled, as he created a small ball of flame in his hand to see down the dimly lit tunnel and the adventure that it had in store for him. Maybe it would be his last opponent.

"Maybe it will be entertaining. I haven't had a good laugh in a while."

[hypnotic_patter]

Billy winced as he stabbed the EVE needle into his wrist. He hissed out a breath between his teeth, pressing the plunger down until the luminescent blue liquid was glowing in his veins. Pain and relief from pain, in one cursed fluid.

He wasn’t fond of splicing, at first. Why mess with perfection, why risk damaging the voice that brought him a scrap of livelihood? But then everyone started doing it and Billy had gotten caught up in the craze, never one to be left behind when it came to fashion. Fashion was long gone now, but the need remained.

Billy rubbed the sore pulse-point on his wrist. His fingers tingled and he watched in satisfaction as electricity began to crackle around his hand. Beside him his phonograph record continued to emit soothing jazz music. Making noise wasn’t safe with so many splicers around, but Billy was willing to take that risk. Without music there would be no point in protecting his life to begin with.
He did keep some modicum of safety. He’d made his home in the remains of some of Rapture’s finer housing, the kind of luxurious quarters he’d been denied as a poor singer. They came with soft beds and strong steel doors…perfect, if you ignored the carnage raging outside.

[recrowned]

The disoriented prince wandered through the tunnels under the city streets. He couldn't figure out where that noise was coming from.

Then, he suddenly went into a withdrawal. He needed another plasmid. Zuko frantically searched his pockets to no avail. His heart started to beat faster. His thoughts were getting cloudier. He looked around rapidly to see if there were any vermin splicers or little sisters or brothers.

He saw one! He saw a little brother. Oh! what luck! He was wandering around without a big daddy. In the heat of his withdrawal, Zuko fired off a bolt of lighting towards this little brother. It was a direct hit. He instantly ran over to see if he was carrying any plasmids with him. The prince was even luckier than he thought he would be. He got the thrill of the kill and he was able to feed his hunger.

He flinched a little bit as he inserted the needle into his arm. Sighing as the florescent liquid filled his veins, Zuko came back into focus. He re-lit the flame in his hand and continued along.

He came to a point in the tunnel network where there was a manhole cover above him. The sound seemed like it was coming from above. He climbed the ladder that led to the manhole and slowly opened the cover to see the street above. It was raging with chaos. Well, at least he wouldn't be seen among the carnage.

He crawled out of the tunnel and walked towards the building in front of him, where he could hear the source of his mystery sound coming from.

Tyrell Badd | Ace Attorney

[tasteoftruth]

[Do they make trenchcoats in size Big Daddy?]

Post-War Rapture and you know the scenario 8|

[corvus_veritas]

[If they did, then Byrne would have happily thrown one over Badd's armor for him. But his old coat tied to the tank on his back will do just fine, won't it?

That's what a now all-spliced-up Byrne believes, anyway. Anything that reminds him of the man Badd used to be is priceless to him; that's why here, in the remains of Athena's Glory that Byrne likes to call the 'Faraday Household', bits and pieces from the past are kept and taken almost obsessively good care of. Old audio tapes of Badd's voice, old photographs, drawings Kay made of the family...it's all here, and as far as Byrne is concerned, it's staying here forever.

Just like the three of them, together.

Of course, no picture or audio tape is worth the two living people Byrne considers family. Maybe things went wrong at some point in their lives and maybe none of them are quite the same people they used to be, but that doesn't matter right now. They are happy. Just happy. Perfectly happy. As long as they are together.

Right?

Right.

Still, being able to hear the voice of someone who can no longer speak is undeniably wonderful. Hence why Byrne is currently sitting in the 'Faraday Household living room' surrounded by audio tapes, playing each one back so he can hear them for the (fifth? Tenth? Thirtieth? Hundredth?) time.]

[tasteoftruth]

[Little Sister Kay is napping and Little Sister Byrne is playing, so Badd is content to sit and watch. The plasmids Byrne's used on him have made him see Byrne as just another of his many young charges. Like the Sisters Badd would defend Byrne with his life--though that was one of the few things that hadn't changed since his forcible transformation into a Big Daddy.

As the little tape sounds again, Badd interrupts with a curious moan. Little Sister Byrne plays those so often. It seems a strange thing to be preoccupied with.]

[corvus_veritas]

[Ah--Badd's vocal interruption grabs Byrne's attention, and he looks over at him and smiles - a gesture that would look creepy to anyone else, given his scarred face and bird mask. The tape, meanwhile, is allowed to play until its end anyway.]

Oh - you remember this, Badd?

[What a silly question to ask! Of course he does. Byrne's sure of it 100%. These are precious memories of the past, of the way their family used to be. No way would Badd just forget them.]

[tasteoftruth]

[Badd prods one of the tape players, then looks back to Byrne in confusion. The memories are thin and shadowed, nearly destroyed by a barrage of chemical and psychological manipulation. There is no past, no prior life. No love but for the sisters. No desires but for their safety and happiness.

But the process was never fully completed when Byrne broke Badd out of the facility and splinters of his old self remain. The tape brings him a memory of something warm and bright, an anger quickly quelled by a soft touch--his hand rests on Byrne's back.]

Little Brother, Post-War. Well. This is going to be weird.

[loyal_soldier]

It's always busy, but good little boy does all his chores. And he likes doing chores, like finding angels. He's good at that. And when lots of people are talking, that means more angels to find.

It's like a scavenger hunt, and it's fun so long as Mister B is there. He's the best there is. Maybe he'll grow up to be as big and strong as Mister B one day.

little sister | bioshock

[syringebottle]

( all my love for this meme. post-war. )

[tasteoftruth]

[Is that his little girl? That's his little girl! Where have you been, he's been looking for you.

Badd makes a pleased groan as he stomps over to his newly discovered partner. He's been banging on pipes for the last hour and it's really starting to tire him out, but he's finally found some success.]

[syringebottle]

[She couldn't help it if she got turned around while trying to follow the sounds of his impatience. There were so many hidey holes after all.

Perking up from idle play with what looked to be very good toys to her conditioned mind, the Little Sister smiled and, after hauling herself off the floor, toddled over to his hulking form.]

There you are, Mister B!

[tasteoftruth]

[Badd pats her delicately on the head. Good little girl. He has eyes for nothing but her, if you can even call them eyes at this point. She's his little cherub with the pale face and yellow eyes.]

[syringebottle]

[It's right to work now, although she'll surely get distracted by this or that before the lure of adam grips her senses. Children will be children, altered or not.

Small hand curling around one of his fingers, she urges him to follow with tiny tugs, a skip in her step and a new glimmer in her illuminated stare. Everything is better with Mister B.]

C'mon!

Abe Sapien | Hellboy

[bprd_fishman]

[Scientist...or a splicer gone even stranger than normal.]

Terry McGinnis | Batman Beyond (9, 3)

[bat_schway]

[ He knew being sent down here was a bad idea, even for reconnaissance. He could have been having a nice dinner with Dana, maybe punching a few bad guys, sending some criminals away, that whole deal.

But no, instead Bruce thought it'd be great to send him down to water world.

The suit worked well enough in this environment-- even for the late 1960's, the technology involved in the Batsuit was still way ahead of its time. Terry had Bruce to thank for that... He wasn't just some Greaser punk anymore, now he had a real purpose to live for.

But why in this dump?

He'd heard the city was a wreck, and he wasn't surprised in the least. It looked like some sort of junkyard at the bottom of the ocean, except stuck within a neat aquarium. Batman stuck to the shadows, not wanting to be seen by any lingering Splicers. ]

I hope you're getting this, old man. This place is slagged to hell.

[bprd_fishman]

[Told 'em, hadn't he? All their fancy talk of mind control and teleportation, stealing all the test subjects and leaving him to experiment on the only subject he had left, and wasn’t he right all along? If you build a city underwater you need your citizens who could live underwater. Now everything was flooding and Abe Sapien’s got the finest gills in the city.

Splicers who come down to Neptune's Bounty looking for a little meal find something worse than fish in the stagnant water. His mind remains sharp, for someone so spliced up that he barely looks human, but he’s still mad as the rest. A man’s got to eat, hasn’t he, man’s got to get a little Adam in him one way or the other. If they weren’t so stupid he wouldn’t have to put his long fingers around their necks until they stop their inane ramblings...and after that, no point wasting a good steak dinner.

This one’s new, though, in the strange suit. Doesn’t move like a splicer, doesn’t annoy him with constant babble. Doesn’t look like the usual fare. Abe’s caught a bare glimpse of him but now he’s gone again like a shadow.]

Come out...come on out now, let me look at you. What are you? [His voice sounds cultured, but there's a burbling undertone to it.]

[bat_schway]

[ Oh great, looks like a Splicer found him. Terry couldn't stand them-- freaks that pump themselves full with Adam until they're not even human anymore... Most times it's just on the inside, but this guy doesn't even look like a human being. Some kind of fish guy.

Now there's a supervillain name.

Activating his wall grips, the Batman begins to crawl along the walls, keeping himself to the shadows, his visor allowing him to see in the darkness. It was taking almost all of his willpower not to grimace at the creature nearby.

Unfortunately, his wall grips were made for brick, stone, not... slimy, mossy walls. His leg slips, creating a loud sliding sound and he cringes, knowing he's just given his position away. Slag it. ]

[bprd_fishman]

[The noise alerts Abe and his webbed, sticky fingers scramble across the wet concrete.]

Don't run away! Stay and talk! [More an order than a plea. He doesn't talk to his prey, not much point in it, but he doesn't want to eat this one. Yet. His jaw hangs open in expectant glee. He bounds across the floor until he's clinging to a piece of rusted rebar below Terry's hiding spot.] Come down, what are you doing up there?

[bprd_fishman]

Literature, mostly. Well-read men are rare now, it's all uncultured thugs and greedy businessmen. But I'll take whatever I can get, books provide some crude compensation for loneliness.

[The bookstore's in clear view now. To Abe's distaste it's in shambles, with many of the books ruined or taken to burn for fuel. Still, many appear whole and this brightens his heart.]

[bat_schway]

So what are you going to do when you've read them all?

[ It was hard seeing a library like this in disarray, but then again, it was hard looking at Rapture at all. ]

Zuko | Avatar: The Last Airbender

[recrowned]

[OOC: I have never played the Bioshock games, but this seems like it will be fun. Would prefer if Zuko was a splicer. Also, post-war preferable.]

Augustus Sinclair | Bioshock 2

[carvingnickels]

[hypnotic_patter]

Billy isn't sure if he dislikes Sinclair because the man's an arrogant, selfish bastard or because Sinclair is so much better at it. He may be the star singer of the Driven Bats but Sinclair owns the building, the booze, the tables and chairs...owns Billy himself, really. Sinclair says sing, you say yes sir, no matter if you've got a headache or a fancy date lined up. He's aware of how easily he could be discarded for another performer.

Usually the musician is easy to please. A bit of wine, flattery, and feeling like a big shot for an hour is enough to make Billy do just about anything, and for less pay than he deserves. It's all about the freedom to compose as he pleases and get applauded for it. The money comes a distant second to fame.

Today Billy comes stumbling into Sinclair's office with a hankerchief pressed to his bleeding nose. His clothes, usually meticulously clean, are filthy and torn to match the dirt-streaked bruises on his face. He does not look pleased.