Post by venus on Jul 23, 2018 15:50:33 GMT -5
Help I'm alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer
Hard to be soft, tough to be tender
Come take my pulse, the pace is on a runaway train .//
HELP I'M ALIVE, MY HEART KEEPS BEATING LIKE A HAMMER -
run [Monroeville:][source] plot-description.exe . . .
cyberpunk, neon future, dystopian, drama. in this uber-futuristic world, augmented limbs and cybernetic replacements are a daily staple, as well as highly illegal. muse a wakes up one day, no name, no mind, no nothing to place themselves into this city or any knowledge of what's happened to them. in their chest beats an artificial heart. muse b is a technician for all types of enhancements, limb replacements, or other augmented features one could ever desire, and tasks themselves to take care of muse a and their faulty heart. this is fairly open world, a 'create the world as we go' type deal, with brutal police forces keeping the city in check and a wide variety of underground ne'er-do-wells. 'cyberpunk 2077' route of inspiration. city's name is Monroeville.
//. claimed by venus & Foxclaw
muses;; Jude Rivera-Carvajal [venus], & Isao Sakurai [foxclaw]
A rolling drum beat thrums a dizzying rhythm through Jude's body - snares and kick drums sync with the blood pumping in her veins, the thump of her heartbeat, as hardcore punk music blasts through her earbuds. Under a layer of dark clothes, goosebumps raise on scalding hot skin. Every exhale of Jude's breath is tinged with smoke and ash, as if her core were fire and brimstone, a side effect from the enhancements installed into her neck and chest. These rare moments of feeling invincible were becoming more and more common; but, the rioting outside had finally dimmed down. Blue and red lights from police vehicles and riot vans bounced off the neighborhood's windows and grimy brick walls. From around the corner, she quietly watched. Anarchists and ne'er-do-wells were being tossed into the back of black vans, presumably being hauled off to jail. Or worse. These days, there were a lot worse things than prison. It had been another long night in Monroeville. When people imagined the far future, it came with images of advanced technology integrated into our day to day life. Flying cars, holographs, a new age of medical advancements, utopias and high rise skyscrapers galore. Not cities with sky high rates of violent crimes, an oppressive military force, and an uncaring government. Technology was on the rise, that was a sure thing. Cybernetic enhancements had become extremely common - once, only meant to aid police and workers servicing the public, now done by anyone with some spare cash. They were illegal, of course. Not many people cared about what was illegal these days.
By now, it could've been a couple of months that the city had been under such unrest. This hadn't started on purpose, she told herself. It seemed that one day, there was a moment of clarity - the wrong guitar string plucked, the painful throb of a bruise, that sobering sense of wrongness that woke people up in more ways than one. It bubbled up from the surface. Even within Jude. Everything she had been trying to avoid, trying not to see, was unavoidable and the girl knew she couldn't ignore it. Pain, cruelty, injustice, and the numbness that people had developed to this. This world was not fair. It was not kind, it was not just, and she learned this at a young age. But now, knowing these facts, something about it had changed. It was one thing to be aware of it, but now, Jude watched as people fought to change something. Poverty and unemployment had become rampant, while politicians were swimming in money from the oppressed masses. Eventually, people started to fight back. And even that had become corrupted. Many extremist organizations had come out of the woodwork, doing more harm than good, such as what had happened tonight.
It's over for now, the redhead thought with a tinge of tiredness. The song ended, her playlist restarted, and Jude clenched her teeth. Under the curve of her jaw, a muscle in her neck jumped visibly beneath warm skin. Whatever was done had been done. She had to get home before cops came sniffing through her neighborhood. She ducked around the street corner, already knowing the way home by heart. It was an effort to skirt through back streets and empty alleys, the main roads were full of cops and the aftermath of today's riot. By now, Jude reached the back alley behind her own apartment complex. The girl ducked behind rusty dumpsters, waiting for the vans at the main entrance to drive off already.