Thread: Challenging traditional RPG

As I started a whole spiff about RPG quality several months ago, I am finally putting my money where my mouth is and starting an RPG thread.

A few guidelines for this RPG are as follows:

1. This is not “three lines and half-assed narrative” play. We will adhere to high quality craft or be asked to leave.
2. Remember cliché exists for a reason, and there is a reason writers avoid it. We will do our best to avoid it here as well.
3. Since I am starting the storyline and am responsible for its vibrancy, I will occasionally insert events and sequences, meant to stimulate play and further storyline. Please play nice and feel free to PM me regarding these events. I am open to other people’s ideas as well J
4. And to challenge everyone’s character design skills: No vampires, werewolves, superhuman powers, or shape shifters.

Other than that the typical RPG rules apply. Don’t troll and don’t be obnoxious.

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Setting: An apartment building, down the street from Times Square.
First Event: All power and utilities are suddenly shut off. Outside, on the street, screaming and shattering glass can be heard.

Three characters inside of an elevator. They are now trapped because of the power failure.

Unlimited characters to be located on the 12th floor. All the outside doors are locked; no one can leave the building.

No character profiles are needed here. This is a good way to introduce surprising elements as the story progresses. Choose your location, first three in the elevator have it, the rest, determine your location on the 12th floor.

Leila fumbled with her purse, trying to shut the button clasp, even though the overflowing contents of her bag were making it next to impossible. Her lank black hair hung around her shoulders; it had been two days since she had washed it. What was the point of washing anymore? The bastard had been fucking Alexis for weeks now. She tried to stamp out the image of Alexis' smooth, tan legs jutting high in the air, while David shuddered between them, jerking like a dying rabbit in a snare. It had all been so unreal.

But Leila had never expected to be in a movie.

And then the truth came, hot and cold, blustering about Leila and bringing her life screeching to a halt. David was a porn star and had hidden it for two long years. He had once told her he was a geologist. He said fucking on film “gave him a rush.”

So Leila gave him a rush off the 12th story of this very apartment building. Now this.

Leila gasped as the elevator shuddered, coming to a stop. The Plexiglas lighting above them shut off, plunging the three occupants into complex darkness. Spots swam in her vision and she immediately began to paw at the small window of buttons, searching for the big red fire hat symbol.

“Goddamn this piece of crap old building,” she murmured. Her fingers finally came across the raised nub and she pressed it hard. She expected a light, a sign, even a beep. There was nothing. She pressed it again.

Her ex-fiancee lay splattered outside on the ground floor and in the midst of her escape, a power outage. She tried to swallow the hot fear that swam into her throat. Not of being trapped, but of being caught.

Tracey, for some inexplicable reason looked up as the lift shuddered to a halt and they were plunged into darkness. For a stupid second she wondered why she had looked up, what was she expecting to see? Snapping back to reality she heard the girl to her right mutter about the building and heard movement as she fumbled in the blackness for what Tracey could only assume was the emergency button.

"Damn." she thought to herself. If they were stuck here she'd miss her date. She had been delighted and giddy by the idea of being desired by somebody as well-to-do as he was. She'd accepted the date possibly too readily and even now cursed her enthusiasm, it must have made her look childish. But she didn't want to miss it, somebody as high up in the industry as he must be able to help her break in to films. Australians had been doing so well over the past few years, she was sure her petite body, piercing eyes and suntanned beach-babe look would get her in. So far she'd found out exactly how much fun working in a bar and then a casino was.

Thank god for the casino, that was where she'd met him and he'd asked her out. At 21, she was ready for her big break.

The silence pressed in on them, Tracey realised she couldn't even see her own hand in front of her face as she flexed her fingers experimentally. Using her other senses she explored her own handbag until she found her keychain.

"That's better." she said to the elevator at large as the penlight on her keychain lit up in response to the pressure of her finger. The light shone on a girl with dank dark hair whom looked startled, like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Her face was a picture of anxiety and misery. Uncomfortable suddenly, Tracey turned the light away and began using it to search around their little prison.

Three steel walls. A mirror behind them that was cracked and bore the usual layer of graffiti. The door, tightly closed. The ceiling which seemed to have some sort of manhole and one more person, trapped with them.

"What the hell is going on?" Tracey asked, her accent broad and in stark contrast to the Americans around her. She'd only been in the country for 6 months godsdammit.

Peter let out a deep sigh as he walked into the lobby of his apartment building. First, he lost his job. Then his car got stolen. Fortunately the cops found it two weeks later, or at least what was left of it. It would still run, but like hell if it would win any beauty contests any time soon. With no job and no money, he had to move to a low-class side of town. And just to make things perfect, the only apartment avaliable was number 13 on the 13th floor. Just his luck. He thought about getting a black cat and chase it under a ladder with a broken mirror just to make things perfect.

"Evening, laides," Peter said as he entered the elevator. He barely recognized the two women in the elevator as he had only lived here for a short while, but he didn't really care. All he wanted was to get home, lock the door behind him, fall asleep and hope he never woke up again.

"You have got to be kidding me..." He cursed as the lights in the elevator went out. The elevator came to a sudden stop, trapping all three of them. With nothing better to do, he sat down in a corner and closed his eyes. He had no interest in going home in the first place, so this location was a just as good place to sleep as as in his bed.

The light blinded her and she started, aware how ridiculous she must look in the minature spotlight.

"Hey, don't be shining that in people's eyes," she said, though her voice held no malice. She pressed one hand to the abused glass, her fingers flexing against the cool surface.

"Shine the light over here," she said. The light swept over the elevator buttons and beneath an engraved red firehat were the words "Fire Fighter Operation" and a keyhole. Next to it a plasic button with an alarm engraving "push for emergency."

Leila pushed it. Silence. Took a deep breath and pushed it again. Silence. A bubble of panic was growing in her gut. Suddenly she began pounding the fucking button with her fist and a scream wrenched from between her thin pale lips.

"You fucking BASTARD! Let me out!" her mouth contorted into a howl and she sunk to her knees against the hard linoleum floor. But there were no tears. Her hands shook but as she looked at the man crouched in the corner, there was something else in her eyes.

"Hey, hey, you," she snapped. "You any good at climb--"

A loud explosion rocked the air inside the elevator, making their ears ring painfully. It sounded as though it had come from a floor above them. The metal rectangluar shuddered dangerously and Leila grabbed the pretty tan girl's hand tightly.

"Do you feel it?"

The elevator was beginning to descend.

"Do you mind? People are trying to sleep here!" Peter was annoyed. Always trust a woman to panic at the slightest sign of danger. Not that this was dangerous at all. It was just an elevator. Someone would find them eventually. At least one of them were smart enough to find some sort of light.

"Hey, hey, you. You any good at climb-" one of them started, but stopped as the elevator started moving again. Peter was a bit worried about what appeared to be an explosion above them, but it didnt' matter. There was nothing in his apartment he was going to miss, and he honestly did not care much about the people here.

The elevator was going down, and Peter could feel it start to accelerate. That was not a good sign. Not a good sign at all.

"Yeah, I feel it," Peter said and got up to his feet. "I wouldn't worry about it. It just means we will have to take the stairs up instead. Minor setback, that's all."

I hope, he thought, but he didn't dare to say it out loud.

Edward Lawran was not a very good man. He'd tried all his life to be good, to make up for the bad things he'd done. But he'd always ruined it somehow. He'd lost his chance to fight for his country after beating the his commanding officers seven shades of black and blue. He'd lost his job as a construction site supervisor when a man died on his site due to deglegence. He'd only been allowed to turn to the police force. They had accepted his application and he joined the antidrug squad. He'd walked into the station on his first day, determined to save the city in which he lived. Unfortunately the antidrug squad was so corrupt that when he first walked through the door he saw three of the squad's captains shooting up on herin and others doing cocaine and meth. And Edward, being the man that he was, had accepted the corruption with open arms and had come back to his flat high as a kite. Which was how he'd gotten home this time as it happened.
Edward was slowly cutting up the white, powdery, lines with a razor blade, a metal straw next to the line. He was almost finished when the lights suddenly went out and the hum of the AC was replaced by loud noises from outside the apartment building. He swore and closed his curtains and his windows before sitting back down at the table. Powercut or no he still needed his fix. He placed the straw at his right nostril and poked around blindly for the line of cocaine in the darkness. His fingers brushed against it and sent it flying around him in a flurry of the powder. He swore loudly and threw the straw across the room. He ran his fingers through his hair, breathing in deeply. If he could get outside then he could go to his dealer and get his fix. He calmed himself with that thought and walked over to his flat's door. He sniffed once and opened the door, before walking out into the equally dark corridor. He closed the door behind him and went to the lift. He pushed the call button but saw no little light flash on. He pressed it again, his finger starting to shake. No little red light. He started to sweat excessively and pushed the button as many times as he could. No little red light. He swore and banged on the elevator's closed doors,
"God damn it!"

The elevator jerked. Hard. Leila was thrown to the ground and decided to stay there for a moment. Faintly she could hear metal screeching against metal. The elevator was still moving but seemed to be struggling against something that was slowing its descent.

"Hey, I think we need to get the hell out of here," she said, more to herself than to anyone else. She looked at the ceiling. There was of course a panel which could be removed. She had seen enough action movies to know that and she pushed herself to her feet and reached up to the ceiling.

She was too short.

"Okay, I think we need to crawl out the top. I'm sure there'll be something to hang on to while we try and figure out to pry open the doors... But then again, it's going to be darker than pitch."

Great, any other comforting words? she thought to herself. The reality was grim but more than that it was weird. Why on earth had there been an explosion? Was the building compromised?

Terrorists?

They did live in New York after all. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility she supposed and even as she thought that her stomach squirmed with alarm.

Damn CNN and Dateline. Then she heard it.

"Hey! HEY!" She began pounding on the wall of the elevator. She had heard someone shout and a loud banging. It was faint but it was possible.

"HEY!! CAN YOU HEAR ME!"

Her heart pounded in her ears as she waited for some sign of reply.

"Lady, calm down!" Peter said and grabber the woman's hand to get her attention. "All three of us heard the explosion, but we do not know what caused it. It could have been an accident, but I doubt it. There isn't anything in this shitty place that could cause an explosion like that, so... well, you know. I would say something else caused it, and until we know they are friendly, we better stay hidden. We know they are there, but they do not know we are here. I prefer it it stayed that way for now."

He let out a deep sigh, and looked up. "You are right, though. We need to get out of this place. We are sitting ducks here, and even if they don't get us, this elevator will if it falls. I can't reach the hatch on my own, but I can lift the two of you up there, one at a time. Try to find a way to get me up there afterwards or open the doors from the outside."

"They?" Tracey asked as she clambered back to her feet. Her heart had lurched and plunged just like the lift and her nervousness was making her angry - more with herself than anything. "There might not be any 'they'. It's probably a fire or something, the cops or the fireys'll be along to get us out in a minute." she said, forcing her voice to sound practical. One thing she really noticed about Americans, besides their blind patriotism they were such drama queens! The slightest little thing made them jump with both booted feet into great big conclusions.

She rubbed her hand briefly where the other girl's nails had dug into her skin a few moments before and then stooped to scoop up her bag and the fallen penlight.

"We'll have to move the manhole cover anyways." she said, looking to the man who was taller than they. "The air in here will get awful stale otherwise."

In the light reflecting off the mirror she suddenly caught sight of herself, looking fabulous. She scowled, she really was going to miss her date now. All that effort for bloody nothing.

"Shit." she swore venemently. Why her? Why them? Why now? The unfairness of the world infuriated her. She turned away from the mirror and looked up, pointing her penlight to the manhole thing in the ceiling of their miniature prison. Already the air was warm and starting to smell like carbon dioxide. They definately had to move that at least.

"Lift me up, then." she sighed. "And I swear to God if you do anything inappropriate I'll break your nose." it was more statement than threat. She inwardly cursed the skirt and thong she was wearing and thanked the fates her parents had insisted on martial arts classes as a kid, she felt confident in the knowledge she could effectively cause some serious pain to any potential assailants.

"Yes, they," Peter said. "Sure it could be a fire or something, but who do you tink started it? There isn't anything up there that could cause an explosion like that. Or at least, not anything that's supposed to be there. Who knows what those idiots are doing these days. But until we know for sure there isn't aything to worry about, we better not take any chances. I have had more than my share of trouble and don't bother get into any more unless I have to. If you want to run off and get yourself killed, go ahead. But only after you let me get to safety first."

Peter grinned. "And no offense, but you are too young for me, missy. Don't get any ideas.I'm at least ten, fifteen years older than you."

Edward heard the faint voices through the metal doors and banged on the doors again,
"Hey! I can hear you! Are you alright down there?!" he asked them, already feeling his mind flicking over to police officer mood. He looked around quickly for something to open the doors with. He didn't see anything in the corridor but then he remembered the tool box that his father had bought him for christmas last year. He'd been on the verge of selling it but now he was glad he hadn't. Because the tool box had a crowbar in it.
Edward ran back to his room, fumbled with the key and the lock, before bursting into his room. He looked around frantically before spotting the toolbox in the tiny untility room. He grabbed the crowbar and ran back to the elevator's doors. He banged on the door with the crowbar,
"Hey down there! I have a crowbar! I'll get you out of there!" he said before slamming the point of the crowbar in the crease where the two doors met and he began to pry the doors open with all his strength.

"Wouldn't take much for some idiot to leave a candle burning, it to fall over and I know my apartment has a gas cooker, most of them do." Tracey argued tiredly, out of habit more than anything. She didn't answer the jibe about being too young, her Dad was 14 years her mother's senior and didn't all guys have a thing about younger women? Unless they had a thing about older women.

Anyway, who cared. She was heaved upward and managed to balance herself percariously on the man's shoulder. Using all her strength she pushed at the cover to the manhole and to her delight it shifted right away, leaving her head below a considerably sized hole. She looked up and realised they were stuck between floors but the doors to the floor above was around a meter above her head.

At that moment she heard another man yelling, something about a crowbar and then there was a bang and the tip of promised crowbar was shoved between the doors.

"Hey," she called down to the other two. "Somebody's opening the door for us. Get up here." and with that she carefully pulled herself upwards, thanking her personal trainer for her upper body strength. Within a very few moments she was out of the lift and standing back as somebody on the other side of the doors attacked them with determination.

Thank god. She might just make it before her date gave her up as a lost cause and left the resturaunt without her.

Edward heaved on the crowbar, unaware of any other voices. He watched as the doors slowly inches apart, letting more and more light into the darkness of the lift well. He heaved on the crowbar again, determined to open the doors. He may not be very good at doing the right thing but by god he'd do it now.
The sweat rolled down his face as the doors finally opened up halfway before reeling back into the frame smoothly. He sighed and sat down in the middle of the doorway. He breathed heavily for a moment before looking down at the two women standing on top of the elevator,
"Hey you guys! I'll lower the crowbar, you grab hold and i'll pull you up! One at a time though please!" he shouted down to them as he lowered the crowbar down to them, the hooked part of the tool dangling just above their heads.

Peter climbed out the manhole on top of the elevator with the women's help and looked up at the now open elevator doors. A man was holding a crowbar down to them and told them he would pull them up. It took some effort to convince the two ladies he was only trying to help when he insisted he could help them climb, but finally all three of them stood in the corridor with the rescuer.

"You seem harmless enough," Peter said after a quick look at the newcomer. "What do you know of the situation? What caused the explosion? Have you need anyone... or anything... else around here we should know about? Tell us everything you know, and quickly!"