Liver Failure Relapse

In the time since the initial EvilRP test on March 10th, our goals have shifted from "let's make DarkRP actually good, just for funnies." to "let's remake the old game, with our new wisdom and technology."

Thus, after much heated debate and violent exchanges, we have chosen to rename this project to Liver Failure Relapse.

Liver Failure Relapse is not an exact replica of IN3, and that is on purpose; Not only have our methods evolved, but our ideas as well. Don't assume things will stay the same, it will bring only heartbreak.

Rest assured that SKELETON has not been abandoned. We still have lots of big ideas we want to put into action that can't fit into the paradigm of Liver Failure's gameplay, or the limits of DarkRP schema.

In fact, our code slaves were coerced at gunpoint to ensure they concentrate on features which we can port to SKELETON in the future.

Really, we just got sick of making games without victims to toy with.

Mistakes happen to everyone, nobody is expecting constant perfection from you; Slip-ups only become a problem when they become a pattern. The most common infraction against this is the use of "game speak", the slow decay of sentence structure and word variety, ultimately concluding with some jerk running up to a Korpsman and saying "Heal." after which he is hopefully stabbed to death with scalpels. That's not even mentioning those who parrot memes and references in-character. It does not take much effort to avoid these two things, and in the latter case, you are not nearly as funny as you think you are.

As roleplay is partially a writing exercise, servicable grammar and spelling is also expected of you. Again, nobody expects perfection of you, but for the sake of everyone, please capitalize your I's, use a question mark when you ask a question, capitalize proper nouns, and use commas. It's a minor gesture, but it goes a long way.

Note that this does not mean you need to type out huge /me's about smoking your bistre-colored peanut butter-flavored cigar. As this is a roleplaying game, we give you the mechanics you need to act out your actions in-game instead of making you write inane prose describing the most basic actions at length.

Those primarily concerned with making the most money, getting the best items, or fragging the most jerks are rarely ever valuable to the wider experience, and are often detrimental to it. For whatever reason, these creatures are much more interested in abusing the game's mechanics to get a bigger high score than in using them for their intended purpose: to create stories.

They have totally missed the point of the experience, and in doing so, have deprived themselves (and likely others) of the most fun and memorable parts of the game. We can't let these people win.

That eye-looking thing in the sky is Sotla, the only being which may be called "a God" whose existence has ever been irrefutably proven.

Sotla does not care about you, It just wants to be entertained. For the most part, It just watches. Sometimes, if circumstances demand, or if It believes the results would be interesting, It may intervene in the world of mortals.

To lead the corpses that roamed the world, Sotla birthed children from the dust of the stars. Being cosmic post-humans, these Sotlians have no taste for food, water, or sleep; All that is needed for a Sotlian's existence is the presence of starblood in His veins and the integrity of His brain. Such a leader often lives centuries, even millennia, each year of continued existence further decaying his mind until He kills Himself, or makes the kind of mistakes that get Him killed.

While not all Sotlians are remembered in these days, the longest-lived and most impactful are well known to all.

Liver Failure is considered to be the strongest remaining industrial society, and to its people, it is the final bastion of civilization. Both the economic power it wields and the pressure exerted upon it by the outside world continue to grow exponentially as reality dies and the death and decay of other nations continues unabated.

Once an exclusively socialist state, Liver Failure has been dutifully led by its Kommandant since He took power over the Hepatic Wetlands in a popular coup some nine hundred years ago. Though it ostensibly sits upon a marsh (long home to all manner of witches and swamp beasts), it has never had a consistent or predictable weather pattern in all its history. The Kommandant says this is the sky waging war against Liver Failure due to the smog made by its industry, and urges all Livermen to fight the good fight by burning trash and smoking cigarettes.

Its innumerable working class find fulfillment in unending labor, toiling until Death finds them, however it may. These Livermen are the red blood cells of a great beast that only grows stronger the more they sacrifice for it. On the other hand, the Sanitar Squad serves as the white blood cells; Not necessarily protectin. the red, but eliminating pathological threats before they reach the vital organs.

In Arrhythmia, the state which lies west across the slimy sea, money is everything; Death, love, hatred, and sufferin. are all bought and sold, and political kapital is measured in greed. Born in the scorching ruins of the merchant princedoms of the Cardiac States, Arrhythmia exploded in wealth by selling off the jewels of its forefathers and the mechanisms of its governance.to the highest bidder, turning itself into a game for the richest of players.

When its owners aren't busy manipulating the bone exchange or organizing false-flag massacres to ascribe to their domestic enemies, they're spreading the virus of Kapitalism to the rest of the world. This syndrome has even swept the streets of Liver Failure, bringing with it ideas of "entrepreneurship" and "economic competition". Soon enough, the people's heads were filled with ridiculous dreams like so-called "future contracts" and even currency made of paper.

Though the die seemed cast against Liver Failure in the global economy with the rise of Kapitalism, the Kommunist republic of Kidneystan to the northeast was much worse off. While it had a prosperous beginning, being by-far the superior industrial power and having far less volatile politics than Liver Failure, this era would not last long.

Even before the rise of Kapitalism, Kidneystan had not been at its peak for a long time. Having only won The War by razing their own capitol, Renalgrad, and retreating into the Permafrost to wage a guerilla campaign. Knowing they would be safe from looters and Kapitalist invaders, they simply used the same strategy again; Virtually all residents and infrastructure were moved into the coldest depths of the vast nation, and relations were ceased with all foreign people, except a few nomadic tribes of scrappers and game-hunters.

After the Sorceror won his revolution, the land was laid bare. It seemed that nothing but death surrounded these newly free people, and so they named themselves Death Town. Sick of tyranny and besieged by bandits, beasts, and hellish weather, hierarchy and wealth just seemed like an inefficient use of resources compared to anarchic cooperation.

To connect his people across time and space, the Sorceror created the first computers, and embedded his source code into their very being. With the rise of computer literacy, the people of Death Town were able to store information for decades longer than on paper, send instant messages across the Nightmare, and witness the fabric of reality; The early and widespread adoption of the digital arts is widely thought to be the reason Death Town survived as long as it did.

During the Pact of Power, the Kommandant and Kommissar agreed that Death Town as a technological power and functional leaderless society was an existential threat, and must be destroyed. A joint invasion was led, Death Town was razed, and the Sorceror was cast into the Devil's Dust. Still, the idea of Death Town is not dead; Many copycats and splinter groups dot the wasteland, and it is said the Sorceror still wanders the sands, but not as the mortal man he used to be.

Common workers with mostly common needs, the vast majority of Liver Failure's population. They come from every walk of life and from all corners of the dying world to live "comfortably" before they die a quick, relatively painless death from an industrial accident.

Many proletariat lack education, making big words a challenge. As a result, they often called themselves and their brethren proles, now a widely used term.

The lack of academic drivel such as "maths" and "reading and writing" taking up space in their brains leaves room for them to absorb practical know-how from their brothers, whether by emulating their methods or trying to avoid dying the same way they did. As such, even average proles could probably diagnose and replace a faucet's plumbing with their eyes closed, if they had to.

Endlessly loyal drones to the Kommandant's every whim, varying in firepower, training, and intelligence. These goons take the place of law enforcement, janitors, and morticians all at once - with mixed success.

A Sanitar does whatever a red-trimmed officer cap tells him to do; This list of duties often includes (and isn't limited to) breaking strikes, carrying out a census, or publicly executing the unwanted.

When they aren't actively being puppeted, their duties include…

1. Protecting the life of the Kommandant at all costs.
2. Cleansing Liver Failure of that which brings pestilence, such as street grime, litter, and corpses - both dead and living.
3. Quarantining the sick (and thus, potentially contagious) of body, mind, and spirit.
4. Amputating criminals from society by death or imprisonment.
5. Watching every square foot of Liver Failure that they possibly can, in search of all that which offends the Kommandant.

While Sanitars are permitted to (and make a pastime of) brutalizing anyone not explicitly under their protection, they would be unwise to inflict serious injury/death on those they watch over; That is, unless under an ordered execution, to protect the lives of themselves and other registered citizens, or to neutralize threats to the Kommandant.

The death of any of Liver Failure's organs and nerves may lead to serious consequences - the kind of consequences that make those who murder worthy of the death penalty themselves.

Storekeepers, salesmen, merchants of all kinds. They'll traffick nearly anything through the walls to Liver Failure - as long as it doesn't scream too loud - and find some way to sell it to you. The perpetuation of their parasitic life-cycle depends on their ability to extort their victims for every bone they'll cough up, and addict them to everything they can possibly get hooked on.

Their kind is poorly understood, but the consensus among the denizens of Liver Failure is that they have no soul (they rented out the space where they kept it), their hearts are as black as coal, and they'd sell everyone they know into slavery if they could. They're right.

Their greed couldn't be satisfied just by peddling luxuries and oddities from foreign lands; With the limited adoption of Kapitalism, the Kommandant decided that distribution of the city's stock of goods would be delegated to Dealers, who could then resell the products of the workers' labor back to them. If the Atmospheric Filtration Complex weren't a public utility in the hands of the Kommandant, they might even try to sell you the air, too.

That being said, they can sell you your own time through the unholy bargaining of your soul known as "employment", with your signature. If they're kind, you might even earn more money than you did as a button-pusher; At the very least, a workplace injury isn't as likely.

Overworked and underfunded, Korpsmen spend their lives tending to the wounds, wear, and malfunctions of the biological industrial assets more often known as 'people'.

Korpsmen are the living descendents of an ancient order of shamans and corpsefixers, whose traditions may go back thousands of years. While they pledged fealty to the Kommandant during the Night of Long Pipes, the importance of their work to Liver Failure's continued survival gives them incredible leverage over His government. Despite how much the Kommandant wishes He could fully subsume the Korpsmen into the SS, he is usually unwilling to put the health of the city on the line and try to wait out a surgeons' strike.

Though Liver Failure technically guarantees healthcare to all registered citizens, the quasi-separation of the Korpsmen from Liverish state apparatus means that they are free to charge whatever fee they please; Despite this, medical attention is still often provided at no cost - whether out of the kindness of their own hearts or for the greater good of Liver Failure.

Also, if you're going to pronounce the 'P' in Korpsman, don't do it around them.

The Kommandant does what he wants and you'd better like it.