The Frozen lands of JK-897, also known as Planet Frothe. By all accounts, this was likely a prison planet. A colony set up for keeping out the spiteful, the undesirable. The planet is covered in ice, making it near uninhabitable. Civilization has worked to prop up despite these terrible conditions. Many villages formed along the crust, creating artificial heat to sustain life. Food was much tougher, but there were animals that could be hunted. For a while, things seemed easy to handle. It wasn’t a delightful planet, but it was one that we humans had gotten accustomed to. Our drive to adapt and survive.
But nature was fickle. We were not alone here. We were not the king of the arctic jungle. Something seemed to walk the planet, scorching out warm earth in a blazing chill that came so unexpectedly. At first it was this odd thing on the horizon. It was some speck in the distance of what seemed like an unending blanket of white. Soon it was obvious it wasn’t a small speck. It was large, lumbering.
It was indecipherable from a distance. But it was clearly something beyond reason. The sky grew thick with clouds, the heat disappeared as if a parent taking away a child’s security blanket. We were infantile, unknowing of what really lived on this planet. We don’t even know if these things are alive. When it was in view, it looked like some horrid monster come out of the frozen deeps. As if mother Terra had rebelled against that which thought her master. Terra unleashed a, a, monster. It was as if the gods unleashed something so fierce it could destroy anything humanity could create. The Titans. They unearthed from some angry god. It was a titan of twisted metal, its movement like a bellowing cry of serrated metal. It opened its mouth and let out its ugly breath. Anything in its path was turned into a devastating crater.
The Titans rule this earth. And the Gods Decided to Freeze Us Solid. All we can do is cower and hide, hoping they don't find us. We can't stay in one place, lest they soon feel our warmth and feel the need to snuff it out.
Welcome, dweebs, anarchists, cats, dogs, apaches, aliens, and hoomans. This is that guy, Saleon. I am here to begin another rp. But first I must begin the process of beginning an rp (henceforth known as worldbuilding). This is meant as a scifi rp on said penal planet, Frothe. Everyone plays part of the same tribe as they go on one last mission.
Your life is that of a nomadic tribe trying to find a special relay only heard as a myth. Communication between tribes is possible due to a number of satellites the groups had been able to hack into. This relay supposedly give exclusive channel to a different satellite. A cannon powerful enough to destroy the titans. Ditch effort? Likely to find it? hah. This is dancing with death. Little more to know as we begin...
