Zhiznovsk
-
Posts
21 -
Joined
-
Last visited
-
Days Won
2
Posts posted by Zhiznovsk
-
-
0615 ZMT, outside of Verkhiy-Belderevsk, the 30th of June.
The salty ocean spray seemed, to especially hang in the air that day, as several people gathered around a cold corpse lying at the foothill of a steep coastal bluff, seemingly having been disposed of there. The sun's light had already graced them- Such were the wonders of summer, and it wasn't long before the body was identified as that of Arseniy Kravchenko, people's managerial coordinator for Pravda TV, a prominent Zhiznovskian news network.
While the fuzz conducted their own investigative work, the agency's special hound hung outside the taped-off cordon, her cool nature hiding curiosity gnashing at her best efforts to chain it. Precocious, ecclectic, with a certain distaste for authority which would've had her sacked in any other nation. Perhaps it was her luck, then, to be living on the one nation in Esferos founded on disobedience.
She sat on a folding metal chair in the impromptu investigation, far colder than it would've looked like on the surface, biding her time.
Meanwhile, those around her continued to work, frenzied. It was already clear that it was a homicide, but scant little information could be gleaned from the surface, and in such a high profile case, the media would surely be nipping at the opportunity to avenge one of their own. She could see the investigation pointman, Vasily Verkowski, with his head in his hands in his office, the only place in that godforsaken tent to have a fan. Whatever plans he had that day, perhaps even that week, were surely now out of the question. Her eyes quietly followed him as he left through a back "door", returning to the crime sceneSome ten minutes later, a first responder approached her, dressed in their typical formal blue and red, such a colonial holdover that uniform was. Male, early 40s, judging by his accent and complexion, not native to the area, neither ring nor any marked sign of having worn one for the past year or so, either unmarried or long divorced, judging by his age and role, likely someone who can settle for a humble and modest living, free of all ambition save for his immediate surroundings, even with all the state has at his behest. Tch.
"Zdrastvuj, Tovar' Bleibaum, you've been cleared to enter the scene.""Have I? Really? That bastard Vasya found it in his heart to let little old me in?"
The officer sighed, clearly unready to deal with whatever sarcastic shit she was on.
"Look, count yourself lucky you're being let in this time."
"I don't need you letting me in, I let myself in."
"Are you admitting to breaking into the scenes of active investigations?"
"No comment..." The shit eating grin on her face was almost unbearable to watch, but the officer knew as well as she did that she was probably one of the few people in the country who might be able to get away with such a thing.
"...Get in, Tovar' Bleibaum, I'll pray for your safety."
The veiled insult didn't fly past her, but she decided to move on and let it slide, she had better things to deal with.
She approached the cordon, clumsily fishing for something out of her skirt pocket.
The man at the cordon's "gate" stood firm, a human wall and built accordingly.
"Tovar', I'll require identification."She quietly passes him a lanyard, ratty and beaten up, yet recognisably PCIA.
"Looks good", He says, handing her back her lanyard.
"As usual, we'll need a quick search."
Without even prompting, she raised her hands up, an A-shape, accustomed to the mundane bureaucratic routines of the agency- Understandable, given how many people tried smuggling guns onto crime scenes in the early days of the nation. Thank goodness those were long past all of them.
"The hat too, Tovar' Bleibaum".
Right. She'd forgotten about that. She took off her shepherd's cap, waving it in front of the man.
"Want me to pull a rabbit out of there too?"
"I'm afraid that'd contaminate the crime scene, Tovar' ".
"Hey, who knew he hired people with a sense of humour, nice job."
She said, as she daintily frolicked in, grabbing a hair net and a pair of lab gloves on the way in.The scene laid before them was gruesome, the body having been dropped some two or three dozen feet onto the rocks below. Brown hair, young, reasonably attractive, mint green suit- expensive, unreasonably so, post-mortem trauma wounds to the head and upper body by way of getting there the short way, and the smoking gun, a gunshot wound piercing his right lung.
"Your boys not able to get the job done, Vasya?" She said, lifting up one of Artemij's cold, clammy hands.
"Wouldn't have the pleasure of receiving you here if we did, Masha."
"Ah, right." She looked around the body some more. They didn't have much to go on, but what little they did have wasn't particularly damning. They'll need to wait for autopsy, or an epiphany, whichever came first.
"Stumped? Hm?" He seemed to revel in seeing that veneer of superiority of hers break down for once.
"Me? Never, I just....need more time."
"Of course you do, now let the actual professionals get to work"
"Hey, I'll have you know I'm PCIA too, кропка."
"Just get out of our way Masya."
"...Sure", she said, biting her tongue.
She fell into thought, as the mortuary specialists worked around her, she always found the chaotic, morbid atmosphere particularly focusing for her mind.
"...Something is rotten in the state of Zhiznovsk..."
"Masha, what the fuck are you talking about"
"Let me think, Vasyu"
2115 ZMT, in a bar in Sel'gorod, the 30th of June.
Maria sat there, swirling her drink, as a TV blared on in the background.
...Artemij Davodovich Kravchenko. Details are sparse, as investigations are still ongoing. The staff, presenters, reporters, and other members of Ruchka TV offer our heartfelt condolences to Artemij and his family, he was a close friend of the agency, and he will forever be missed. In honour of his untimely passing, we will now observe a minute of silence, to the man who brought new life into our news, our hearts, and our minds.
'If only they fucking stayed that way...' She quietly remarked to herself. This case was certainly not fucking closed.
((A huge shoutout to C418 for writing Stal, the music that inspired this rp post))
-
In the bars, dorm rooms, houses and waiting rooms of Zhiznovsk, its people fervently watched on, the evening news reporting on their devastating loss, trying their best to salvage what they could of their reputation, and drum up the last dregs of hope out of their people, so that they may, perhaps support what is now a new hope for the nation in these trying times.
In particular, however, it played in an dacha, a very special dacha, one of few owned by the nobility which escaped revolutionary ire. Six people gathered around an old television set, dressed in their evening best.
"Здравствуй, аужор мы зибралисья здесь..."
An anchor stood behind a table, displaying the bright red, yet somehow drab network of one of many collective news networks.
The Zhiznovskian Rugby Team, the Golden Eagles, were defeated twenty-to-nil today, by the Fujai Finokkirni, meaning Snowflakes, in a tense and exhausting game that lasted 90 minutes. We have on today, the team's Head Coach, Coach Rasul Ismaelev, and Tighthead Prop Anna Efraemevna, live to you from Overthinkers. Over to our reporter on the ground, tovar' Steffen Frenkel'. "
"Thank you, Maria. Today, this packed stadium of nearly 50,000 witnessed a sore defeat for Zhiznovsk, with Fujai showcasing expectedly tight performance."
The camera pans, as a figure moves into view, Coach Ismaelev, obviously tired from the proceedings of the day. Yet, he tried his very best to put on a veneer of composedness and calm.
"So, coach, what do you make of this whole thing?"
"I have to say, first off, that I'm still very proud of the boys and girls whom I've had the pleasure of working with. They showcased incredible performance, and went up against an RWC behemoth. Fujai has cut its teeth against some of the best in the world, time and time again, and truly earned the place where they are at right now. Put simply, I believe that they did well against overwhelming odds, and though they might have lost now, I believe that the experience they have gained here will only further allow them to beat our next opponent- Sekiya."
"Coach, many have been challenging many of the appointments made to the team, stating that they believe superior players were left behind, some even going so far as to personally accuse you of bias. What do you have to say to that?"
The coach looks visibly enraged, for a second
"Well, I wholly encourage them to join me on the field and try this out for themselves before they go around criticising the rest of us."
"We've got to find some way to spin this, Dasha."
A man spoke up, at the head of the table, dressed in a black and gold suit."Spin this? Spin this how?"
Spoke another woman, flanking the first, dressed in a typical red dress."The people of Zhiznovsk are losing hope in the Golden Eagles, we've got to find some way to coordinate on a media response to this fucking mess."
The man gestures to the TV.
"The more people lose hope, the less people tune into the news, the quicker this "high", this kaif decays. As the heads of the five major news collectives, surely you wouldn't want that now, would you?"
Another man, dressed in red and black, spoke up, clearly mildly irked.
"And what's in it for you? I assume you wouldn't risk breaking the law and the hearts of the people out of the kindness of your heart?"He speaks, with gritted teeth, his words flowing venomously.
"I'm already on thin fucking ice with that incident with my son, this could mean the end of my goddamn job Fedya."The rooms falls silent for a while, before one of them, a man, clearly young, dressed in a mint green suit, pushes his chair out from the table.
"I'm out.""You're fucking what?"
"I'm out." The man gets up. "I'm not about to let you manipulate the media to save your fucking ego, or your fucking image Gorya."
The rest look up at him, in astonishment.
"Этонн?" He looks the rest of them up and down, in fervent disgust.
"You ought to be fucking ashamed of yourselves, misleading the people like that. Don't you have any idea what we built this country on?""That we built this country on, Arseniy. You spoiled brats have no right to steal our fucking valour."
"And look where that valour got you."
He sighs, turning."I don't even know why I'm involving myself with this bullshit." He says, as he turns to leave.
A metallic click echoes through the room, as the man turns around.
"This here pistol killed the Petrov barons, Senya. It'd be a shame if it claimed another victim."
The pistol, made of blackened steel and wood grips had clearly seen better days, the patina of well-use lay evidently clear over it as the light from the TV glinted off its body.He turns around, shocked, a deer in the headlights. The room watched on in horror.
"You wouldn't fucking dare..."
"Would I?"
A single deafening report rang out across the otherwise empty room. The only person in that room apologising that day would be the young loosehead prop on the television screen.
-
-
Aurum, Overthinkers. The 25th of June, 2004 IAT+1
A dozen people sat around a table, dressed their best. The restaurant had the faint air of a certain opulence and ostentation which they had seldom seen back home, as waiters ferried wine bottles and chef specials to mahogany tables attended by the nouveau-riche. Many of those who had played that day sat there, although over half the team had elected not to join them, a decision Coach Ismaelev respected. Some worried as to how this expense would be justified to the people of Zhiznovsk, but Coach Ismaelev seemed rather calm about it, something which soothed the rest of the team. Petty conversation ebbed and flowed in their native tongue.
"Now, we might be eating out, but you all'll still need to eat healthy, alright?" Misha joked, as light chuckling echoed around the table.
An older woman, with short, brown hair responded: "You're one to say, Misha, some of these newbies don't know about that one time you-"
"I speak from experience, Nata". It seems people were now chuckling more at him than with him, but chatter went on." 'Shame Anya couldn't make it, she really outdid herself today..." A tan woman spoke up, black hair worn in a bun.
"You see, that's the thing, she really did outdo herself today. I'm pretty sure she's still rolling over that ice like fish in a market"
"Shut up, Gerya!" A young woman, evidently a reserve, said playfully, as Gerasim looked at her with a mildly mischievous look.
"She really did outdo herself though Darya, did you see that free kick?"
"Not me, no", said yet another older woman, far fairer than most others sat at the table.
"You should've man, real beaut that shit was."
The chatter continued, as the busy restaurant hummed on around them, their loud conversation not too out of place, save for the language difference. Soon enough, a waiter came around to the table, looking for their orders. Coach Ismaelov finally spoke up, ordering in an English that wore his accent on its sleeve, specifically requesting the team not be served the requisite course of wine. The rest followed, as conversation resumed.
"No wine, coach?" A younger reserve questioned, half-jokingly.
"You can gunk up your liver as much as you damn well please once we're done, Nika."
"Chill, chill, I was joking bossman!"
"Better hope you were, boy... "
It seemed the interaction brought down the energy of the table some.
"...But if you must know, there's a bottle of champagne waiting somewhere here if we win this thing. Who knows, maybe I'll sabre it too if they'll let me"
The waiter came around, handing the team various sparkling waters and non-alcoholic spritzers.
One of them, a red-haired young woman busted out her best Overthinkers accent as she thanked the waiter in her ersatz approximation of the native language, as some of the people seated next to her shot her a glare.
The waiter chuckled, noticing. "It's no problem ma'am, I'd say you actually did pretty well"
Chuckles broke out around, as "Well done, Azya"s and "You did it, Azya"s flew around the table.
It was then, that Coach Ismaelev began to tap on his flute, as everyone else fell silent, after a fit of hushing and commands.
"Thank you. Now, I know we've been chit-chatting a lot around this table, but the reason we're all gathered here is because y'all managed to secure your first win toda-" He was interrupted by cheering and hollering across the table. "Yes, as I was saying, first win. We might not have started this tournament off on the best of footing, but y'all need to keep this streak going. Fujai's likely going to be a difficult nut to crack, but I think y'all have it in you. God knows we Zhiznovskians know how to win against overwhelming odds. Enjoy yourselves for now, tomorrow we'll be analysing their previous games, see what makes them tick, and y'all'll be running a couple more drills than you're typically used to. Might seem a bit excessive, but there's a benefit to being the new kids on the block- They don't have nearly as much to go off of for us, as we do for them."
The rest of the team nodded, murmuring, indicating various forms of agreement.
"Now, I'll leave you all to whatever it was I interrupted. Enjoy yourselves folks, it's gonna be a hard, hard day tomorrow. Бон кураж."
Enthusiastic sentiment gushed out from the team, as even the more reserved of them joined in.
The food slowly came out, as waiters served them three-at-a-time.
The team dug in, some more ravenously than others, as a young, raven-haired lad twirled his fork, playing absentmindedly with his food. Slunk back in his chair, he wore a morose, listless expression.
"Sunny, what's with the long face?" An older man, pale as a sheet, inquired.
He initially got no response, but after a long pause, Sanya leaned back, sighing, and responded.
"It's that goddamn first game Fyela..." He said.
"You did alright dude, don't-"
"I flubbed the fucking pass man, handed them the ball on a silver platter."
"Sunny." It seems, Coach Ismaelev took notice, as he called out casually.
"Like, I could've run forward with it, their left was wide-"
"-Sunny!"
"-open man, if it wasn't for me, maybe we'd still have had enough momentum to collapse midway through like tha-"
"Sanya Sviatoslav."
Sanya fell silent.
"Calm down, Sunny. What good do you think this'll do? What's done's done, Sunny, that's why I brought you guys in here. We celebrate our wins and analyse our losses, but I won't let you sacrifice the future to salve over the memory of the past." He said calmly, his words punctuated by the clanging of cutlery against china. He puts a piece of steak in his mouth, chewing some, before continuing. "Look around you, Sunny, everyone sitting at this table has fucked up as badly as, or worse than, even, you have. Myself included."
"Yeah, he's right on this one Sunny. One time, I stayed on the field when I really should've returned, I was way too dizzy to play, ended up kicking the ball into my own goal. Wasn't until that one time I scored a 70 yard that people stopped calling me selfie..." Avi said, still slightly embarrassed.
"Yeah, there's also the time Misha-"
"Nata, not again!"Everyone chuckled again, as the mood lightened slightly.
"We all fuck up Sunny, it isn't the end of the world. If you wanna do something, show me your best these next two days, and kick those Fujai bastards' asses." Coach said, as the rest joined in a panoply of hell yeahs and woos.
"I'll personally train pass drills with your depressed ass tomorrow Sunny, don't you worry" Feliks said, ribbing him some.
"Thanks Fyela, 'ppreciate it."
And the evening wore on, celebrations wound down, and the team retired to their respective hotel rooms as they awaited the twelve labours that lied ahead of them.
- United Adaikes, Saint Mark, Zoran and 2 others
-
5
-
A news broadcast flickers on, in a university dorm, a noisy bar, quietly humming along in a dentist's office - That matters not.
The nation as a whole watches on intently, this was to be the first major international sporting event that war-battered Zhiznovsk had participated in since it won its independence. An odd display of national fervour flared up amongst its citizens that day, as it watched its team, regional celebrities, walk up to a stage with many advisors and councilmen in attendance, including the recently disgraced Servant-Councillor for the Promotion of Public Physical Health and Sporting. Most didn't let it bring down the spirit of the day, however, as they still sat, with bated breath and much anticipation.
Meanwhile, the anchors introduced the story, beginning their broadcast, interrupting some kind of weather report.
"Здравствуй, товарищы, мы аужор предъявим этой-"
The various ambassadors, exchange students and tourists of Zhiznovsk must have sighed in relief upon seeing that there were indeed subtitles- English ones, for the broadcast.
The same broadcast was sure to capture the team moving through a veritable crowd, separated only by a well-planned fence, as they shook hands with the common people, cheery as ever, for they, of course, were the ones who enabled them to partake in such an event. Such ran belief, such had to run belief.
Rasul Ismaelov, the team's coach/manager, took his place at the podium last, following the rest of the team as they smiled and waved their way across the red-carpeted stage, wearing their characteristic blue and yellow jerseys. The coach himself was a relatively young raven-haired man, looking to be in his early 40s, who limped his way to his position, wearing a simple, yet well-tailored suit. A certain stoic coolness emanated out of his, cold in the way ember-coals in the freezing cold are.
"My brothers-in-arms!" He proclaimed, as a wave of adulation propagated across the crowd, holding many a banner or sign.
"Today, it is my pleasure and my sorrow to bid you a goodbye, for now. A week hence, these glorious men and women behind me-"
He gestures
"-will take their place in the green grass in Andolia, across the Viatic, in the gracious country of Overthinkers. Doubtless, many of you will join them there, we suggest you look at the travel advisories and guides we have published for your reference. But even to those who watch on, from home, I ask that you band together, in the spirit of unity, and support these brave men and women as they bare their well-honed skills to the world!"
A well-timed pause, the crowd exploding into cheers again.
"I have seen them play, rise above the others, take on the best of Zhiznovsk and win. But the time is come, for them to prove to the world just what we of Mother Zhiznovsk can accomplish when we work together. I am immensely grateful to have been given the opportunity to mentor these fine folks behind me"
He gestures behind him yet again, and continues.
"However, I have spoken on long enough..." He picks up a rugby ball lying aimlessly on the floor, looking at the crowd, before looking back at his players.
"But I'll be passing the floor to Anya!" He throws the ball behind him, with the well-experienced movements of an athlete, as Anya- a thin, flaxen-haired lass- hops up to catch it, in a moment which almost seemed rehearsed.The crowd goes wild, as Anya takes the podium and begins to speak.
Meanwhile, in a bar in the capital, a group of people watch the broadcast intently, for a wholly different reason, dressed in a wholly different jersey to the sports bar around them....
-
Council for the Promotion of Public Physical Health and Sporting
Zhiznovsk Rugby Federation
Федераци Ругби Жизновской
Style Modifier: +0.75
Coach: Rasul Ismaelev
Roster:
No. # Name Gender Age Position Notes 1 Anna "Anya" Chernoslava Efraemevna f 22 Loosehead prop 2 Mikhail "Misha" Artyom Petraev m 26 Hooker 3 Avgust "Avi" Georgy Denisov m 25 Tighthead prop 4 Gerasim Evgeniy Isayev m 24 Number-4 lock 5 Yuri Luka Ivanoŭ m 26 Number-5 lock 6 Aleksandrina Syuzanna Zhukova f 25 Blindside-flanker 7 Zoya Yaraslava Zhukova f 21 Openside-flanker 8 Lyosha Petya Ivankov m 32 Number-8 9 Darya Stefaniya Kovalchuk f 23 Scrum-half 10 Nata Melek Antonova f 29 Fly-half 11 Azaliya Vüsale Bedrosian f 22 Left-wing 12 Gala Nadejda Zakharova f 25 Inside-Centre 13 Katia Verochka Trifonova f 24 Outside-Centre 14 Kazimir Klim Fyodorov m 25 Right-wing 15 Raisa Yevdokiya Ivankova f 25 Fullback 16 Nelli Taisa Makarova f 26 Reserve 17 Nikolay Vitya Andreyev m 21 Reserve 18 Feliks Yury Nikitin m 28 Reserve 19 Sanya Sviatoslav Viktorov m 21 Reserve 20 Vova Fima Matveev m 26 Reserve 21 Grigorii Genya Vasiliev m 28 Reserve 22 Ieva Austra Urbonienė f 26 Reserve 23 Grigory Sashok Antonov m 24 Reserve
RP permissions:
SpoilerIf my opponent RPs first, they may...
Choose my try scorers: Yes
Choose my kicker: Yes
RP injuries: Yes
Godmod scoring events: Ask first(ROC)*
Godmod injuries: Ask first(ROC)*
Godmod other events: Ask first(ROC)*
ROC: Rule Of Cool: If something incredibly unlikely/godmod-ey/ rails-ey makes sense within the context of the storyline/
would provide a very cool or entertaining moment for all of us, I'm probably gonna let it slide. Things may well happen
simply because of how cool it would be if they did.
Information:
The Golden Eagles are a relatively new team, making their debut on the world stage. They seem to have fared well in practice and leagues back home, but will that translate is the question....
The team has also had some controversies prior to the cup, which I will expand on later
-
The delegation was somewhat delayed, however Zhiznovsk will, for the first time, participate in the RWC! Its team, the Golden Eagles will surely bring glory to the people of Zhiznovsk
-
Serving in the TWPAF's been great and honestly I'd love to do more. As someone who already comes from a background of FA and UN work, I think I'd love to try it out here
-
Best make sure I help then
-
On 12/16/2023 at 10:50 PM, Overthinkers said:
This, all the way. 100% mischievous fey vibes
While a Santa Beard would be absolutely jolly, ELF EARS!!!!!!!
-
Here in the Free Land of Zhiznovsk, we believe that Haikusday can be every day. Feel free to drop in haikus whenever you'd like!
A new beginning,
Every day is Haikusday,
I hope you have fun!
-
Neither, public transit ftw!
-
Resident name: The Free Land of Zhiznovsk
Discord name: berkutsimp
Map nation name: Zhiznovsk
A couple sentences about your nation:
A nation formed from the ashes of revolution and civil nearly three decades ago, it stands as one of the few relatively Anarchist nations in Esferos.
Both admired and criticised alike for the high degree of importance placed on public participation and egalitarianism, it walks the path of recovery, of settling in and making something of itself in the world, on the precipice between governance and the lack thereof.
Composed of a hardy, yet welcoming peoples, in the cold north, united by a desire to see their grand experiment prosper, it too holds it as the beacon that guides its ship of state, and would likely warmer relations with its now-neighbours.
Map request: G-9
3-Letter Code: ZZN 2-Letter Code: ZN
TLD: .zn Calling Code: +4 04
Timezone: IAT +1 (Alpha Time)
Capital City: TBD
Currency: Pravda(ℿ)
Government Type: Anarchist Communal Direct-DemocracyLand Area: 871,800 km² (500,000+)
The population of my nation is: Above average - 16,194,572 (15,000,000+)
The population density of my nation is: Below average - 18.48 per km2
The GDP per capita of my nation is: Below average - 18,530$ (10,000$+)
Government Spending - Which statement best describes your nation?
My nation provides moderate social programs, or a small selection of social programs.
x
My nation has an extensive social safety net, or provides multiple programs like universal healthcare, welfare, and free tuition for its citizens
My nation does not provide social programs beyond bare necessities and/or high school educations.
My nation does not prioritize social spending, but engages in some large-scale government or public spending projects.
My nation’s government spending is a vast majority of our GDP, such as having to coordinate our import-dependent economy.
(this option is subject to Cartography Board approval)Military Indicator - Which statement best describes your nation?
My nation has made a commitment to security, and maintains a moderately sized modern armed forces within our means.
x
My nation has little incentive or political drive for military spending, but maintains a small-to-moderate modern armed forces.
My nation has prioritized military spending at the expense of other key areas and may have been criticized for lack of freedom or human rights issues.
My nation does not prioritize military spending due to other priorities, the belief we are safe, or we don’t have enough money left over to fund it.
My nation is heavily embattled and we believe we face an existential threat.
(this option is subject to Cartography Board approval)Any other inspirations or concepts you want to share:
Aesthetically Russian, with some inspiration taken from Anarchist communities like Makhnovia and Anarchist Catalonia
-
Imho pineapple on a pizza is worse than pineapple off a pizza, but it doesn't ruin the pizza or make it inedible. I think a regular pizza is better than a regular pizza+pineapple, but I would never turn down a pineapple pizza unless it was actual garbage
World Cup of Football IV Signups & OOC Thread
in OOC Support - Information & Dispute Arbitration
Posted
Zhiznovsk gladly accepts!