Online rpg

You open your eyes. You're lying on your back, a dull, throbbing ache in the left side of your torso. You're disoriented, black spots shifting back and forth across your vision. There is something not quite right, and you flex the muscles in your body, taking a mental note of any oddities. You sit up, the ache becoming a burn, becoming a torrent of agony. Pushing it aside, you focus your blurred vision and take a look at your surroundings.

You are in an alleyway. Trash and waste surrounds you, and you realize you are laying in a heap next to an overturned dumpster that reads "ChemiCorps." The name rings a bell but you're still too disoriented to compute anything. You stand slowly, brushing off the debree. It is raining and dark, a foul, pervasive stench filling your nostrils. You look off into the distance and see two figures huddled around a burning bin, and yearn for the warmth it could offer. You reach into your long, torn, black leather coat and feel along your side.

You are startled to see that the hand you used to touch it with is not made of flesh but of a strange, blue-grey allow. You flex your fingers, and your mind. The fog slowly lifts, but again, you cannot recall what it is. In fact, you cannot recall anything. You turn in frustration towards the huddled figures, and advance towards the light and promise of warmth.
 
Very, very good. I love the atmosphere it creates, how there seems to be a complete and elaborate (and very interesting) past and yet at the same time there is none, and the (rather skillful) use of words. Are you a writer, by any chance? I really love that. :)

That (the post above) is how normal rpgs usually take place (where i come from, anyway). An online rpg is normally more like storytelling: you first make a list of you character's name, attributes, skills, items and so on, and then you tell the story in third person (i.e. "then John went and said...."). However, we could make it work like this. Just tell me what you have in mind, Thorns.
 
As you get closer, you can see that the figures are two young men, maybe twenty or twenty-five years old. They are both dressed in casual, street clothes, and by their badly shaved beards --random hairs sticking out of their fire-lit countenances in all directions-- you assume them to be homeless. So many homeless these days --more than half of Britain's population-- and so few working positions available, as just about everything became automated over the past two decades. Suddenly things start to look clearer for you -- but not your own past.

As you battle to get rid of the blurry void in your mind, one of the figures looks up at you, somewhat startled, and then the other. You realize you've come too close -- like a moth to a flame, you think to yourself with a grin of grim mockery on your face. You take a step back, suddenly fearing that they'll run away and leave you standing alone in this cold, wet night. You suddenly feel a longing to talk to somebody, to see if dialogue can bring back your memories and clear the fog in your mind.

But they don't run away. They just turn their heads back towards the seducing fire. You slowly turn your gaze towards it too --the dancing flames entrapping your senses, the soft but constant hiss of ashes filling your ears, the incandescent white blaze gently burning your retinas--, but your mind keeps revolving around the fact that you yearn to talk to them. Slowly you approach one of the two figures again...
 
As you emerge into the circle of light you are enveloped in a magnificent heat. You take a moment to savor it, embracing the warmth, closing your eyes as it slowly begins to return the feeling to your limbs. You flex your fingers, and exhale deeply, a soft mist issuing forth from your mouth.

You open your eyes and turn them towards the two huddled figures. They are both hooded, their figures hunched and shivering. You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out as the figure on the left raises his head.
A deep, instinctual chill surges through your body as a pair of ruby eyes greet you. They are set in deep, fractured sockets, lidless and rimmed red.

"Does my appearance disturb you?" The voice is soft, raspy, and hollow. Droplets of thick, viscous liquid slide from the ruined, torn corners of a lipless mouth, exposing blackened teeth and a swollen tongue. Something about his appearance triggers an alarm somewhere deep within your memory, and you back away slowly. The lipless mouth curles into what appears to be a menacing grin. You step away from the warmth of the fire, and the second figure removes his hood.
 
evil miscreant said:
then someone has a knife and stabs a stranger in the alley
I'll ignore that.
_________
As the second figure's hood falls to rest on the back of its neck, a second pair of ruby eyes trigger something deep within your mind --deeper than you can venture in your current state of confusion, but also deeper than you'd dare to venture even if you could--, like a shot of ice-cold infinitesimal fractions of shattered memories. Memories you're not sure you want to remember.

You take another step back, suddeny recalling what your flesh now is --that sensation, when you put your hand into your coat... what was it?-- and grimly realizing that the fire might have given you away as something.. unhuman. As though confirming this, the first figure emerges from its sitting position and starts to walk towards you. The second man follows his companion, and a second later you're running down narrow, long-abandoned streets, the two figures close behind you. With a quick glance back you see once again their red eyes glinting in the fading light of the few streetlamps that still work, their medium-sized hair gently swaying with their movements, their distance from you slowly decreasing...

A sharp pain shoots through your right shin, and you fall to the ground. You realize you hit a broken pipe when you looked back, and as you look up you see the two figures standing beside you, one to each side.

Again the first one's voice, empty as life and gruff as the voice of any other person --or mutant-- fed up with life, sends shivers down your torso and arms: "You can't run from us." With another shiver, you are pulled to your feet by both figures and shoved down the shadow-flooded alley, destination unknown but instinctively feared. A quick, sharp stab on your right arm hardly startles you, and with an alarmingly drowsy, almost mechanical look at it you realize you've been drugged, injected with some synapse-inhibiting chemical.
 
Your running down a corridor, dimply illuminated with colorless halogen lights, sparking on and off at random intervals. Your mind cannot focus and you try in vain to recall how you arrived at your current position. You labor for breathe but it will not come, and your eyes scaning frantically for clues as to your whereabouts. You glance down and see a small metal projection sticking out of your right arm, and you are hit with a torrent of memories...

You break off the syringe at the needpoint and quickly, visiously slam your mechanical fist into the smiling, rotting face. Like butter your blow tears off his lower jaw, but the eyes shine fervently and a powerful hand throws itself into your abdomen. You fall, twisting desperately for a foothold, and grab onto the blood splattered remainder of the figure's throat. You squeeze with everything you have, and hear a sickening crunch. Your body slams into the ground and immediately you begin crawling, searching for shelter from the second figure.

You reach the entrance of a dilapidated building and nearly slip as you step through the grime covered, grey doorway that falls apart upon bearing the weight of your exhausted body. You hear heavy, quick footfalls behind you and a surge of adrenaline pushes you through the doorway and into a long, slime covered corridor...
 
Soon it becomes too dark to see, as this new corridor has no electric lighting and there are no windows, and you run into a wall. Ignoring the pain, you feel to your sides and find that the corridor continues to the left. You turn around and run on, not too slow so your assailant won't catch you but not too fast so you won't slip on the slime -- what is it anyway? On second thought, maybe it's better not to think too hard about it...

You run into another wall, but this time there is no way left or right, and the footsteps are getting closer fast. Fumbling your hands --one mechanical, the other biological-- all around, you soon discover a handle and realize that what you bumped in wasn't a wall, but a door. You frantically twist at the handle and push the door with all your weight, and it slams open.

There is light behind the door, and for a moment you are startled. You desperately stumble on, unknowing of where you are. The ground seems rougher here, and the smell of outdoors --the stink of filth, the slight but ever-present stench of chemicals-- fills your nostrils. You quickly realize, both from the smell and from the sight --your artificial retinas can switch from no light to blazing sunlight in a matter of seconds--, that you have left the building. You stop walking, staring at the rather unusual landscape: torn buildings, yes, but few and small, and the remains of what had once been a river, or perhaps a man-made canal -- now nothing more than piles of trash and the occasional black puddle, heavier with chemicals than with actual water. A crescent moon shines timidly through dense coulds of smoke over the welsh wasteland --are you even in Wales anymore?--, but no stars can be seen tonight. Apparently, you've been brought out of town.

You start to turn around, having forgotten about the mutant who was following you, but you are tackled hard. You find yourself on your back, your hands held down by your enemy's weight. Crimson eyes glare at you from a weathered face --still looking like a twenty-five-year-old, though--, and you can't help but glare back and try to free yourself.
 
Not much of a writer... here goes nothing

Just to make sure I'm on the same page, he (it?) just got caught by the robot, right?

Anyway...

You struggle more and more but slowly the mutant tightens the death grip it has on you and you submit defeat to it's unbelieveably strong arms. It drags you mercilessly to a hovering vehicle. Once it gets there, it opens the door, throws you into the backseat and blindfolds you. There is complete darkness as you try to gain your bearings, but it's impossible as you start to sweat uncontrollably. You hear an engine start and then your stomach lurches as you feel the vehicle jumping higher and higher.

Soon your going full speed- you can tell because you hear the mutant turn on something of an auto drive and call someone to say "I've got him, I'll be there shortly." Your mind races to try and think of the place you'll be at "shortly", someone you've made mad perhaps wants you? Who could you have made mad? All of your thoughts are splattered when the vehicle crashes to the ground and lurches tho a stop. The mutant rips the blindfold off you, but you're still mostly in darkness. All you can see are the blood red eyes glaring you down. Soon, you hear a crackling voice on a phone utter the words "Bring him". You hear the mutant kick his door open, go to yours, rip it open and throw you over his shoulder. You can't imagine what's in store for you.