TURBULENCE {Stranded/Gifted RP}

Turbulence is a LOST-inspired RPG. Much of LOST’s initial plot still exists here, but things are also very different.. The Others that LOST fans know do not exist. There are no hatches – there is only a mysterious, impenetrable large cement block in the island’s center.

LOST canons, and characters based on LOST canons, are allowed, as are original characters.

The biggest difference is this: When the survivors of Flight 407 land on the island, they find themselves changed.. They have all suddenly acquired supernatural abilities, and they have no idea why or how.

You do not need to watch LOST in order to understand the plot of Turbulence.

Flight 407 was a couple of hours in when the plane rattled slightly, causing plastic cups set on trays to shift and slide. Bing! A voice came on the intercom: "Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has turned on the fasten seatbelt sign. There’s a little bit of turbulence up ahead. Please stow your belongings and return your trays to their upright positions." A flight attendant began walking down each aisle with a trash trolly, picking up used cups and empty continental dinner trays.

The plane jolted again, and this time people hastened to snap their seatbelts snugly around their waists. The flight attendants hurried in their tasks.

Suddenly, the plane began rattling in earnest, jumping like it was being shaken in a tumbler. People murmured worriedly, but true fear only spiked through them when they felt in the pit of their stomachs the plane begin to lose altitude, and the oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling.

As people scrambled to put them on, the routine safety measures they had ignored at the beginning of the flight fleeing from their minds, the intercom came on again. "Please put on your oxygen masks, we’re experiencing some pressure changes and-"

There was a terrible roar as the plane swung around suddenly, and the tail end of it was ripped violently off, spinning away into the clear blue skies – clear blue skies that surely shouldn’t have yielded such turbulence.

Some overhead bins popped open, spilling their contents down onto passengers. A thin scream fought to be heard over the banging and shuddering of the plane.

Then with another great groan of tortured metal, there was a gaping blue hole in the front of the plane as well – the cockpit was gone.

They were going down. They were crashing. They were doomed.

The plane was torn into three parts – the Cockpit, the Fuselage, and the Tail End. These three parts each landed on a different portion of The Island. What island, nobody knew. It didn’t appear to have any inhabitants, nor were there any other land masses in sight. It was simply The Island. The Fuselage landed on the north beach of The Island, and the Tail End on the south beach. The Cockpit crashed into the jungle a couple of hours’ trek from the Fuselage crash site. People died, but not as many as perhaps should have in a disaster of such magnitude. The people in the first four rows of the plane, in the piece of the plane including the cockpit, all died. One of the pilots is dead – the other one is dwindling, at the end of his thread.

There are two groups of survivors – those from the Fuselage and those from the Tail End. Each presumes the other to be dead, though some maintain hope that those they were separated from – family, friends – may have somehow experienced a miracle such as theirs, and survived.

They must now salvage the wreckage, deal with the dead, and wait for rescue..

Little do they know rescue isn’t coming.