🎨 Creative [necro][101] Something!-punk settings

Daigoro

拝大五郎
Validated User
On one side we have the establishment, cemented in almost a century of tradition. Change comes but gradually, in committee-approved increments, whose pronouncements are disseminated globally via a network of austere corporations deeply versed in the complexities of the field.

On the other, we have renegades, practised users who flout the rules, smash encoded statutes of usage, and advocate a new order of things.

Worldwide battles about politics and identity are waged over the turn of a phrase. Age old axioms are challenged for their relevance to the modern day users of this instrument. Warriors for the conservative meet disestablishmentarianists deep in the darkest corners of cyberspace to duel out their respective philosophies. Random encounters on innocuous bulletin boards can turn deadly dangerous at the mis-stroke of a key. Combat can be quick and decisive, or can continue unabated for months. Winners savour the rush of victory, but do not linger before striking out to wage online war again. Losers are left bloodied and confused, afraid to venture near their consoles.

We're talking about syntax, grammar, punctuation and style. Passive or active. Oxford commas. Spelling and idiom. Pronouns and gender. Infinitives split or adjoined.

This is The Elements of Style on the information superhighway.

This is….


Strunk Punk
 
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Daigoro

拝大五郎
Validated User
Nice one! I'd play that.
Cheerzz.
As a campaign, I'd probably put all of Batman's rogues' gallery in positions of authority- Commissioner Croc of Gotham Police, General Grod as Secretary of Defense, The Riddler running the NSA, etc.

And I can't avoid secrets, so here it'd be that Bruce Wayne has been kept prisoner by the Joker all this time, with a TV turned on giving a constant newsfeed of the Joker's successes, slowly driving Bruce to despair and insanity. He'd have to be immobilised, quadriplegic or something, or perhaps disfigured beyond recognition and institutionalised in a psych ward somewhere.
 
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neutrondecay

An Experience
RPGnet Member
Validated User
The sky was the colour of a blotted ledger sheet. In a coffee shop built into a pillar of the new London Bridge, three runners met to discuss business.

The Cossack - Yuri had been to London before, in the Great Tsar's retinue, ducking off while the wiry emperor watched the leather-handed Englishmen hack a forest into a navy. While Petr Veliky had been studying the crafts of war, Yuri had been in the fishmongers' and chandlers' of Deptford, learning how the city outside the City did business. And when the Tsar had been drinking coarse ale and running drunk through the hedgerows of Rotherhithe, his Cossack henchman had been drinking Portuguese coffee and reading the trade press. Now, straight from glorious victory against the Swedes at Poltava, he was back, head freshly shaved and a purse of coin at his belt, ready to make a fortune.

The Sindhi - Suraj was new in town, but not new to trade or travel. His first sale here had been a sack of fine Ethiopian coffee to the muscular Ukrainian now seated opposite from him, and this had led to the business proposal they were about to discuss. Silently, he prayed for success, for the chance to turn the tables on the Frankish traders who were trying to buy all India as though they were at a fire sale. Perhaps one day, London would be an outpost of the Sindhi Western Europe Company - but he had to start small.

The Technician - Helen was the last to arrive. She was dressed like any housekeeper, but the huge leather parcel under her arm was not like any other housekeeper's baggage. Seeing the other two at their table, she strode over and unrolled the rain-streaked package to reveal the precious contents, marked with the arms of the Royal Society.

"Gentlemen - this is a proposal that will change how this nation does business. And the Chancellor will not see it until next week, but we have it today."

The year is 1710. The place is London. The stakes are high - a lottery with £100 tickets, shares in multinational corporations, the future of the Bank of England. You stand directly in the flow of information that will guide the future of the world. Against you are some of the most powerful politicians and most brilliant scientists of the age. Behind you are the working people of a hundred lands. The contest has begun. This is WigPunk.

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