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|Name:||Medieval World - Westworld RPG|
|Posting Access:||All Members|
|Welcome to Horseshoe, a dusty little frontier town in the old west. Populated by colorful characters, crotchety mademoiselles, snake oil salesmen and gun toting outlaws, Horseshoe is a classic western come to life. Men and women dressed in period costume wander down streets named after American Presidents, a drunkard stumbles out from the saloon and his friends dunk him face first into a drinking trough, an old man rocks himself to sleep on the porch outside the hotel. Horses, tied up in a tidy row, doze and sweat in the afternoon sun--they barely flinch as a half dozen riders canter past them, heading up toward the hills.|
Those hills are full of gold. Gold, and wolves, cougars and bears. Highwaymen, outlaws and opportunists are all too eager to steal away the earnings and possessions of any careless passer by. Or perhaps they're looking for new recruits. A sharpshooter might try to pick you off anyway, from an outcropping far above--it's best to watch out. Die, and you may wake up on a slab under the watchful eye of the Physician. Death isn't real, here. In fact, it's synthetic, and that's where things take on a note of the strange.
This is West World, the most ambitious and diverting theme park attraction ever made, one part of Delos' sphere of parks which includes among its most prominent and exciting destinations Medieval World, full of chivalry, swordplay and really, really tall hats, and Roman World, thriving on insobriety, debauchery, and group bathing. Populated by synthetic beings that resemble humans absolutely, West World seems to be - for the time being at least - in the beta testing stage.
Some of the synths are programmed with thrilling character flaws meant to instigate gunfights, bar fights, or wild romps in the boudoir. Others...well, for some reason others seem to be resisting their programming, memories slipping through that aren't a part of the wild west storyline they're being asked to play. Memories of other lives, memories of fighting ghosts, or punching lawyers, or leading space rebellions. Some of them have slipped their programming altogether, and only remember their sordid other-world pasts.
But that's not so surprising, is it? Machines can always go wrong, and sentient machines even more so. Is that what you are, or are you really people?
|layout by photosynthesis|