The Program

The Program

Postby Microcuts on Thu Apr 01, 2010 8:46 pm

-Foreword-

Hello to the readers, both frequents and lurkers alike! Here's an idea that spurred from one of those crazy dreams of mine involving the PbP crew.
As the name suggests, this is a parody and a cross-over of the novel/manga/movie "Battle Royale", and I decided to borrow the characters of the regular PbP-ers. Don't take it personally if I do something to your character that may not be of your taste. Don't fret much though, as one never truly is killed in Vana'diel. ;)

A quick synopsis for those unfamiliar with BR –
Spoiler:
The story takes place in an alternate, national socialist state of Japan in the near future, where randomly selected students are chosen and forced into taking part in The Program.

The Program, designed to promote fear into people and display a sense of control the government has over them, particularly the youth of the society, isolates the students into a remote island, where they are essentially forced into a battle for survival with their randomly supplied set of equipments until there's only one student standing. If no one wins within a certain time frame, all students are killed via remote detonated explosive strapped around their neck.

Some students take part with the killing willingly while most survive out of fear and reluctance. The protagonists work to fight against those who organized it.

---

-Intro-

It all began with a banquet...or so the story goes. This isn't that certain story told over the ages; rather, this is something that took place behind the scene. Hidden from the public eyes, amongst many dark secrets of Vana'diel.

With the emergence of adventurers into bigger roles in shaping the history, many have gone toe to toe with the evil that has continuously threatened the land. Some would go as far as to label these people heroes, selfless gathering of people who would put themselves above everyone else. But if they must help others, who will be there to help them in their time of need?

---

-Chapter 1: The Gathering-

Whitegate, the city that never sleeps - in the midst of the hustle and bustle, they began to gather up before the doors of the Kobka Hostel.

"Hmmm...must be early or something." Rosalyn murmured to herself as she cracked the door open to have a peek.

"Not at all, my friend." a voice called out from behind. There stood a hume Red Mage, tipping his red chapeau, greeting her courteously. Behind him stood everyone else, happily greeting Rosalyn.

Aeric, Urthdigger, Valkyr, Microcuts, Altrage, and Linear - it hasn't been long since they've gathered as such but any gathering with them was an enjoyable one. Even those that have been long gone and forgotten have been invited - Artemicion, Cemalidor, Onikumomaru, Odine, and Odyse all followed the group inside and each took a seat.

At the head of the table sat a GM, who set the night into motion.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, and a gathering of the finest adventurers I might add, we're gathered together here in your honor. Your bravery and altruism have gone too long unnoticed. As a representative of all that is Vana'diel that has benefited from your heroic deeds, this feast is the least I can offer. For bravery; for Vana'diel!"

The twelve at the table followed suit, raising their glasses to the rather mouthful toast. The festivities went on throughout the night, everyone chatting away casually, sharing various tales of their adventures as well as reminiscing about their adventures together in the past.

The night went on and on, even the moon getting ready to fade away. As dusk readied to roll around the corner, everyone agreed to call it a night.

"Oh but we have one last thing to offer you," the GM interrupted as he motioned for the attendants to bring another glass of drink on the table. Everyone sat back down, growing a bit impatient. "A final toast to bid farewell, if I may-

Your heroic deeds have paved ways for a brighter future of Vana'diel. Let this brilliance continue to shine in glory for ages to come. For future; for Vana'diel!"

The twelve at the table gave a hearty applause and downed the drinks. This time, however, the drink did not leave a good taste in their mouths or their body. One by one, their bodies collapsed on the table.

"And have a good rest." The GM tossed his drink aside and clapped his hands. The attendants rushed in and began moving the incapacitated lot.

---

-Chapter 2: The Program-

"Mi...wake up!" a faint voice called out.

"Micro! Wake up!" The voice repeatedly called her, becoming clearer and clearer each time.

Bright light slowly began to pour in as she opened her eyes, blinding her vision with white heat. The burning sensation paled in comparison though, to that of her pounding headache. It was definitely different from her usual morning routine.

Micro rubbed her eyes and tried to adjust herself to the unfamiliar surroundings. Around her were rest of the group from the banquet last night, but they were no longer in Kobka Hostel. In fact, their location was unfamiliar in all aspects.

"Ugh...what's going on?" she spoke out with a parched voice.

The hum that rang her ears faded away, replaced with the sound of waves, brushing in and out of the beach just outside of the building they were in. This strange and sudden change of scenery was highlighted further as she looked down to find herself wearing a standard issue Hume Vest set instead of her regular armor, as were the others around her.

"This is not the time for a nap, Micro." said Urthdigger rather sternly, as he sat upright, his eyes firmly fixed to the figure behind the podium up front - the GM from the feast.

"I hope you all had a good rest...for what's to come, you'll surely have to be ale-"

"What's going on, you bastard!" Rosalyn growled.

"Oh, lively as advertised," he cooly responded while flipping through a stack of paper. "The less you interrupt me, the faster it'll go, it's as simple as that." After Valkyr managed to calm her down, the GM continued.

"As I already said last night, you all are special to us. That is the reason why we've picked you to participate in The Program." With the pause came a stirring amongst the twelve.

"This isn't something of a tradition, but it is an order from the higher ups, and like it or not, you all have little choice. How difficult this becomes depends on your cooperation, but otherwise it is simple, oh so simple.

The goal is simple..."

The twelve inched forward in anticipation.

"Kill or be killed! There can only be one!" the GM clenched his fist and shouted dramatically, slamming the wall behind him. Next to him twelve attendants marched in, each holding a rather large gobbie bag.

"Kill what, exactly?" Linear broke the silence.

"Each other, of course. But before you say anything else," he continued, not giving them a chance to respond. "There are some administrative things to talk about."

"Again, the goal is simple - this is a Ballista Royale, in which there will only be a single victor. Kill or be killed.

"As you may have noticed, we have put certain precautionary measures - we have locked your combat skills, magic skills, abilities, equipments, everything. Right now, you're nothing more than an ordinary body.

"Each bag here contains some necessary supplies for survival, and most important of them all-" the GM pulled out a small scroll, gleaming with faint shine.

"There are six different types of scrolls, and each can unlock...something. The incentive here is you can certainly obtain more than one. How, you ask? By defeating another person of course!

"But there's more here at stake than mere scrolls. I repeat - there can only be one. The winner of it all shall be granted a wish, any wish! Money, fame, glory, even something that could be earth-shattering...say for instance the power of a GM? But of course, there is a consequence for defeat. This isn't your ordinary Ballista, no sir...and ma'am. For those defeated, we have prepared a cozy, permanent residence in...Mordion Gaol."

"And what makes you think we will comply?" a voice asked from the group.

"We're aware what you lot are capable of, so we've taken the liberty to cast a spell on you during your sleep. You all have five days, and if a sole victor is not determined by then, the spell will trigger a curse. I could go into the details of this curse if you'd like, but the clock has already begun to tick." The GM let out a chuckle before collecting himself once more.

" Five days and it'll all be over...or quicker, depending how active and willing you all are. That is all."

With that the GM pulled out a list.

"Microcuts!"

Startled and nervous, she was slow to stand up and make her way to the front.

"Wait for us outside." Valkyr whispered to her as she walked by.

At the front of the room, she snatched a bag from one of the attendants and shot a glare at the GM on her way out. In the room behind her, she could here the GM shouting for more names but couldn't make it out clearly. She shook her head and tried to calm herself down as she made her way towards the exit.
RosalynSable wrote:Smoke some mognip to forget your troubles.
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Microcuts
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