Definition of meta gaming: Using real life information in your role-play persona.[/b]
Definition of power gaming: Causing your role-play persona to exceed their realistic abilities.[/b]
What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?: I used to play many MMO/RPGs, but it's been a while. I'm looking for a new server and this one stuck out![/b]
IC:[/b]
Name: Calser Daniels[/b]
Age: 56[/b]
Appearance: Old, missing his left leg, gray, balding hair, shaggy medium length beard, wears a cap and has a pendant around his neck. His shirt is tattered plaid, and he's wearing what appear to be jeans. He's not fat, but not skinny either. He wears round, wireframed glasses with one lens cracked.[/b]
Personality: Lighthearted and wise. He doesn't say much, but smiles often and is kind when you need help. He understands his limitations as a cripple, but he's a genius who always has an idea, and isn't afraid to share it whether it's wrong or not (though it's usually brilliant.)[/b]
Backstory: He was living in the city as an inventor when the war started. He stayed in the basement of his skyscraper apartment, along with countless others, as the missiles shook the ground. At one point a missile struck the base of the building, causing most of the room to collapse. Their exit blocked, and many of their people dead, the survivors waited for the battle to end.[/b]
They survived by drinking rainwater that came through cracks and eating bugs and rats they found in the debris. Calser was just thankful that he didn't have to resort to cannibalism again - the last time this sort of thing had happened he was only 25, living in Russia, working as an weapons inventor for the government. [/b]
One week later, the ground stopped shaking. The survivors started to pull away the rubble in order to escape. What they saw was terrifying. [/b]
Most of the buildings had collapsed or had holes in them. Dead bodies littered the streets. Cars were everywhere, most of them crushed. It was snowing in the middle of summer - nuclear winter, Calser thought. [/b]
The survivors walked to the Empire State building, and you know the rest.[/b]
Definition of meta gaming: Using real life information in your role-play persona.
Definition of power gaming: Causing your role-play persona to exceed their realistic abilities.
What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?: I used to play many MMO/RPGs, but it's been a while. I'm looking for a new server and this one stuck out!
IC:
Name: Calser Daniels
Age: 56
Appearance: Old, missing his left leg, gray, balding hair, shaggy medium length beard, wears a cap and has a pendant around his neck. His shirt is tattered plaid, and he's wearing what appear to be jeans. He's not fat, but not skinny either. He wears round, wireframed glasses with one lens cracked.
Personality: Lighthearted and wise. He doesn't say much, but smiles often and is kind when you need help. He understands his limitations as a cripple, but he's a genius who always has an idea, and isn't afraid to share it whether it's wrong or not (though it's usually brilliant.)
Backstory: He was living in the city as an inventor when the war started. He stayed in the basement of his skyscraper apartment, along with countless others, as the missiles shook the ground. At one point a missile struck the base of the building, causing most of the room to collapse. Their exit blocked, and many of their people dead, the survivors waited for the battle to end.
They survived by drinking rainwater that came through cracks and eating bugs and rats they found in the debris. Calser was just thankful that he didn't have to resort to cannibalism again - the last time this sort of thing had happened he was only 25, living in Russia, working as an weapons inventor for the government.
One week later, the ground stopped shaking. The survivors started to pull away the rubble in order to escape. What they saw was terrifying.
Most of the buildings had collapsed or had holes in them. Dead bodies littered the streets. Cars were everywhere, most of them crushed. It was snowing in the middle of summer - nuclear winter, Calser thought.
The survivors walked to the Empire State building, and you know the rest.
Hello I am minecraftkittys and I am reviewing you application today.
For one your character would be long dead if he was born before the war, and saying you were drinking rainwater through cracks in the building would still result in some radiation from the topside. It also doesn't really snow in summer on the server so :P. We have seasons.
The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
Join Date:
12/27/2010
Posts:
52
Minecraft:
Several accounts
Member Details
OOC:
Minecraft Username:
Mystia_Lorlei
Age:
23
Definition of meta gaming:
The use of ill-gotten information whilst out of character, to provide some substantial boost to your character or position, this can include ore-meditating or abusing weaknesses listed on someones character sheet, or tidbits about their past that haven't come to be public knowledge via the course of roleplay.
Definition of power gaming:
Power Gaming includes the forcing of actions upon another player without giving them a proper chance to respond or retort, and in addition it includes over engineering a character to be far too imbalanced within the confines of roleplay. E.G; Mary Sues/Gary Sues, Superman... Individuals like that with unbelievable powers.
What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?:
I've been a Owner, Developer and Lore manger going on 10 years now... through my decade of experience I've penned lore for various servers and story arcs ranging from simple fetch quests, to entire complex socio-politcal systems for nations with thousands of years of history.... I've got experience in player/consumer engagement and how best bring a community forward and keep them hungry for more content... As a personal note, I was on the launch team of Fallout: Sins of our Fathers, back when it launched originally, I headed up the administration team and the Brotherhood of Steel during launch and for several months onward, only reason i stopped was due to the mind numbing pain of schooling, and familial medical issues but being so I'd love to help out in any capacity!
I've got the drive and motivation to provide quality lore, characters and ample time to engage in universe building... I've been round minecraft since Indef... I've played it too and fro, unique concepts for stories are eternally engaging! I do hope to be considered! Outside of Minecraft, I've played dozens of characters, from various table top games, ranging from Call of Cthulhu, to Only War, and the Rogue Trader series of games... I've Game Mastered many of my own campaigns and I love to engage my audience and write interactive and living stories that broach into topics pertinent to the modern day and age! I've penned a few poetic pieces that have won regional and national competitions back when I was in school, I currently am penning a novella myself, So let there be no fear pertaining to my love of writing!
IC:
Name:
Anna Locklear
Gender:
Female
Age:
41
Appearance:
Anna is a gruff and snarky figure, clearly one of wiry persuasion and effective appearance. Anna keeps her garb simple and effective whilst that does seem to contrast her fairly aristocratic facial features, her long jet black hair is usually tied up to keep it from falling in her face whilst she works, she posses a few nicks and scars on her face and neck, disfiguring her in some capacity, the right side of her face was destroyed by a Death Claw's rending talons, leaving said side of her face to be reconstructed with artificial flesh, thus being, she is unable to effectively control the right side of her face, leaving her with a half scowl perpetually. She posses one jade eye, whilst her other eye, is a milky green due to damage sustained whilst in combat. Routinely she wraps her face and head with a heavy cowl to protect and veil her damaged facial features from the brutality of the wasteland sun and wind.
Personality:
Being that her profession is engineering, she may look perpetually displeased, calculating and overly serious, she ironically possesses a strong sense of humor, though some may find her befuddling and be unsettled by her otherwise dark humor. She is reliable and steadfast, though can be fickle if she fears her life in danger, in which she would contently do what she must to ensure her survival. Having traveled across the US in many capacities over her lifetime, she is a very world savvy person, always hungry for lost knowledge.... though she can be cloistered to those of her Chapter for many a folk in the waste may come from disreputable backgrounds.
Traits:
Anna is incredibly talented with machines and equipment, her life was built around the upkeep of machines and parts even before she was recruited into the Brotherhood, strangely enough, she is intimately familiar with Enclave technology and its function, she is able to upgrade and maintain complex machinery and execute repairs whilst in the fray of combat.
Though she may possess extreme proficiency in machinery and combat engineering, her smaller frame and pre-existing injuries leave her il disposed for direct combat in melee, but as such, she does have a nack of plasma weapons and a fond love for their raw power. With that said, she is able to hold her own in a fight, though she is more suited for combat engineering rather then a front-line grunt.
Backstory:
Anna was conceived in a gestation tank in the ruins of Vancouver to a hidden detachment of the North-Western Enclave, after the fall of the Posidon Oil Rig. She was raised to function as a general front-line grunt in the planned Enclave push onto the mainland, but with the collapse of the Command structure after the fall of Posidon, the Vancouver detachment drifted wearily across the country, seeking cover and other elements of their kin. During these days whilst in the depths of the Black Mountains, it was here that Anna suffered her iconic scar and injury whilst investigating strange signals from the mountains depths, leaving her slack jawed and ever-scowling.
The Rallying cry of President Eden drew in the remaining detachment into the bastion of Raven Rock. For the duration of the Capital Wasteland conflict, Anna served as a member of the Sigma Engineering Branch of the Enclaves militant arm. But following the crushing defeats suffered at the hands of Brotherhood and many within the Wastes, along with the destruction of both the Citadel and the loss of Ravenrock, the Enclave gave the order to go to ground and lie low till suitable command and control could be re-established.
As she fled with a bedraggled detachment from the ruins of Raven Rock and the hastily abandoned Adams Base, the contingent fled into the radioactive swamp lands of the South East, the humid heat and brutal wild life, took a toll on the withdrawing scientists and soldiers. As the groups numbers dwindled, they found themselves horrifically set upon by the South Eastern Brotherhood Chapter, in which their numbers where decimated, and the large majority of their contingent was captured. Whilst wounded in one of several skirmishes, she was allowed to recover and in a short time span, was drafted into the Chapter as an engineering specialist.
Whilst the word drifted among the reclusive Southern Chapter of the Brotherhood, that a proverbial technological Eden existed within the northern reaches of the former state of New York, Many within the Chapter found it less then appealing to risk resources after the rumored withdraw of the local Chapter aiming to set up residence within the shattered ruins of the Big Apple. Opting for a more subtle approach to review the potential viability of the ruins of Manhattan, Locklear was sent with the expressed task of recovering information of what befell the Chapter tasked with establishing itself upon the ruins of the Big Apple, and uncovering if the rumors of lost technology was indeed just the musings of old men or some darker truth yet unfound.
Quick question: about how many people are on this server on a daily basis?
Just thought i might ask before i submit an application due to the fact that i like a server to have a decent amount of people on to interact with at a time.
Definition of meta gaming: most basic definition is using out of character knowledge to benefit your character. example people on team speak talk about raiding a base and you gather an army knowing an attack is coming (unless it is a planned event)[/b]
Definition of power gaming: giving a character crazy powers that are unrealistic. example being able to dodge a sniper bullet cause you "sensed it" [/b]
What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?: Way too much to name a mean dang, the vault, sins of our father, wild wasteland, in minecraft, swtor, wow, swg for mmos ect. [/b]
IC:[/b]
Name: Komodoh nickname is komo[/b]
Age: 22[/b]
Appearance: black hair dyed blue, tattered white jacket, black undershirt, grey pants with knee guards, red shoes, average build just a normal young adult.[/b]
Personality: Has kind heart and trys to see the good in everyone. He is very competitive in life and usually has a big goofy grin on his face. He is a loyal friend and trustworthy guy that boarders being naive. [/b]
Backstory: [/b]
Komo is you average wastelander who grew up in a small fishing village in New Jersey in a sturdy family. He luckily hasn't had to many nasty surprises in his life and that could come to bite him in the butt further along his road. He has a younger brother who is a shy person who likes to stay around and fish most of his days with his father. His father owns and operates a fishing boat to provide for his family while his mom takes care of the homestead. [/b]
[b]Komo is the type of person who was a friend to everyone in the village as he works at a stand cooking and selling the fish that his family catches. His life is very typical of the wasteland, he enjoys chatting with the travelers and caravans learning new things about the the world and the sights they have seen. The hardest times are when the occasional raiders attempt to raid the town. To prepare himself he along with the rest of the village are trained in small arms use and maintenance by the town sheriff and as such is part of the defense militia. [/b]
[b]Today Komo has decided to join us with a caravan and head north to learn more about the world and make a name for himself. The world is his oyster and it is time to cook! [/b]
[b]Komo skill set is being able to cook and trade food that his family catches and basic first aid, (he has been known to cut himself with a knife while cooking) general small arms use and maintenance, and a bit of barter skills from selling his products. [/b]
[b]Tagged skills: barter, small arms, survival [/b]
Both of you are now whitelisted on the server, apologies for the wait. Currently our Dev is out of commission so it's a little slow.
alright so I checked and I was whitelisted this morning, but as straw hat said, he was not white listed, and now trying to log on I find that I am no longer white listed.
Definition of meta gaming: Meta gaming is the use of OOC knowledge and letting it actively or passively affect your roleplay experience.
Definition of power gaming: Power-gaming is forcing an action onto another person’s character without their consent.
What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?: I have roleplayed on multiple servers. Sins of our Fathers and Akavir tend to be the ones that come to mind.
IC: In Character
Name: Alton Gerry
Age: 22
Appearance: Alton is a man of 5’11. He has short, black hair that almost never grows. He appears to be of caucasian descent. Numerous scars decorate his body, most particularly a faint, bull-shaped one on his right hand. He has a beard that is well-kept, at least to Wasteland Standards. He wears faint, black jeans paired with a grungy white shirt and a light grey jacket and black sneakers.
Personality: Alton has always had two things on his mind. Surviving and making it a better place. Well, at least for himself. Anything that can benefit he keeps closes. He’s the first for loot and the last for death. Crafty and reliable, Alton can always think of something to get him out of a sticky situation. The Wasteland has managed to teach him something most never learn up until they are dead. Don’t trust anybody but yourself. No exceptions come to that rule.
Backstory: Alton never knew his parents, and perhaps that was a good thing. Born in a small village in Eastern Colorado in 2263, he was picked up right before the village was burnt to the ground by Legion raiders scouting to the East. He was branded with the all too familiar bull tattoo on his right hand. But it was in his fortune that this century was pretty corrupt. He was sold to a slave caravan that headed even further east, into the pre-War Plains Commonwealth. He was then traded for what seemed like an eternity, further and further to the East.
As the tenth slave caravan paused to rest in the southern Capital Wastelands, they were ambushed by a liberal trade caravan. Rounds and casings were exchanged, but in the end, the slavers lay dead. Free for the first time in his life, Alton set off with the trade caravan. They were eventually given the name the “Free Traders”. Alton learned how to do basic arithmetic and reading and writing under the other traders. He could repair the most basic of Wasteland tools, like a basic .32 hunting rifle or a 9mm pistol. Alton could also repair and sew some clothing as well as stitch a cut. At around 2282, he set off North to the Eastern Commonwealth, in particular, the ruins of New York city. He was held down in Northern Maryland as he saw lucrative work as a handyman in a small town and made quick caps, but lost it all in a scam right before 2284. Disgruntled and bothered, he left for the remnants of the Eastern Commonwealth in search for new riches and treasures.
Definition of meta gaming: Meta gaming is the use of OOC knowledge and letting it actively or passively affect your roleplay experience.
Definition of power gaming: Power-gaming is forcing an action onto another person’s character without their consent.
What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?: I have roleplayed on multiple servers. Sins of our Fathers and Akavir tend to be the ones that come to mind.
IC: In Character
Name: Alton Gerry
Age: 22
Appearance: Alton is a man of 5’11. He has short, black hair that almost never grows. He appears to be of caucasian descent. Numerous scars decorate his body, most particularly a faint, bull-shaped one on his right hand. He has a beard that is well-kept, at least to Wasteland Standards. He wears faint, black jeans paired with a grungy white shirt and a light grey jacket and black sneakers.
Personality: Alton has always had two things on his mind. Surviving and making it a better place. Well, at least for himself. Anything that can benefit he keeps closes. He’s the first for loot and the last for death. Crafty and reliable, Alton can always think of something to get him out of a sticky situation. The Wasteland has managed to teach him something most never learn up until they are dead. Don’t trust anybody but yourself. No exceptions come to that rule.
Backstory: Alton never knew his parents, and perhaps that was a good thing. Born in a small village in Eastern Colorado in 2263, he was picked up right before the village was burnt to the ground by Legion raiders scouting to the East. He was branded with the all too familiar bull tattoo on his right hand. But it was in his fortune that this century was pretty corrupt. He was sold to a slave caravan that headed even further east, into the pre-War Plains Commonwealth. He was then traded for what seemed like an eternity, further and further to the East.
As the tenth slave caravan paused to rest in the southern Capital Wastelands, they were ambushed by a liberal trade caravan. Rounds and casings were exchanged, but in the end, the slavers lay dead. Free for the first time in his life, Alton set off with the trade caravan. They were eventually given the name the “Free Traders”. Alton learned how to do basic arithmetic and reading and writing under the other traders. He could repair the most basic of Wasteland tools, like a basic .32 hunting rifle or a 9mm pistol. Alton could also repair and sew some clothing as well as stitch a cut. At around 2282, he set off North to the Eastern Commonwealth, in particular, the ruins of New York city. He was held down in Northern Maryland as he saw lucrative work as a handyman in a small town and made quick caps, but lost it all in a scam right before 2284. Disgruntled and bothered, he left for the remnants of the Eastern Commonwealth in search for new riches and treasures.
Tunnel Snakes rule.
A fine app, and I know you to be an even finer RPer. Therefore, you are...
Definition of meta gaming: Using out-of-character (OOC) information in an in-character (IC) setting.
Definition of power gaming: Acting in a manner that makes it impossible for other players to respond. The most common example is dictating the effects of your actions on another person without their input.
What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?:
MC Server Owner: Iron Hearts: Starlit Skies, Iron Hearts: Crimson Dawn
MC Server Admin/Staff: Caelion, Fallout: Sins of Our Fathers
MC Server Player: Kiwike, Uthrandir, Toro League
Other RP experience: (TableTop games, all of them) Only War, DnD 5e
IC:
Name: Yannick Bishop Graves
Age: 37
Appearance: Standing at 6'3" when fully upright, Yannick possesses a lithe and scrawny body completely covered in bandages, looking much like a high-school basketball star player nearing the end of his growth spurt that is disguising himself as a mummy. He explains that this is due to the harsh winds from his place of origin - his skin had been sanded down, worn to a sensitive paper-thin layer. A medical mask, dirty and stained from age and past operations, covered the lower half of his face, leaving his green eyes and stray strands of dirty-blonde hair to peek out from below the ubiquitous bandages that encircled his forehead. What small patches of skin that are revealed is slightly reddened from the sun and lightly tanned. He wears a hooded jacket over a white T-shirt along with a small satchel that carries his medical equipment, brown trousers and sturdy lace-up boots.
Underneath the clothing and wrappings, however, the reason for his 'suit' of bandages becomes apparent. Small parts of his body have started to take on an unhealthy, necrotic appearance and pieces of his skin have started to flake off, revealing raw flesh underneath. Save for his decaying body, the only thing of note would be several bullet scars and a stylized '42' over his heart.
Personality: Introverted and quiet during first "friendly" impressions (friendly being the both parties aren't pointing guns at the other), Yannick rarely speaks to strangers - or even to acquaintances - unless the other party initiates the conversation or unless he has questions to ask of them. Not exactly a social butterfly, if put in a room with a group of people he doesn't know well, he would feel most comfortable standing in a corner watching the others silently. To his patients and friends however, he is courteous and warm-hearted, willing to patiently explain medical concepts to them and figure out the best course of action.
Out in the Wasteland he is distrusting of others, knowing of his own inherent weaknesses and familiar with the 'dog eats dog' mentality of the world. Although not a coward by any means, he will be first out of a firefight if a situation to escape presents itself to him. Stubborn and slightly arrogant, Yannick strives to find a niche for himself and the skills that he offers.
Traits:
Able to effectively use medical equipment.
Can provide on-field front line trauma care but has a preference for off-field medical care.
Possesses weaker than average joints and strength, but radiation barely affects him.
Proficient in sniper rifles and small arms - anything else and hehas a higher chance shooting himself than his target.
Backstory: Hailing from the region of Arizona, Yannick had aspirations to be a Wasteland medic like his parents before him, travelling from settlement to settlement peddling their skills. He was the only child of his family and was doted upon by both his parents for his brightness and aptitude towards the medical field, often sitting in as his parents treated the myriad types of wounds and damage brought on by day to day living in hostile environments. He grew up to be just like his parents, knowledgeable in the medical field but with no piece of paper to show for it. Wanting to make more of an impact on the Wasteland, he split up from his parents several years after he had reached 20 and went on his lonesome way.
The high-levels of radiation in the surrounding areas combined with his stubbornness and youthful arrogance would be his undoing and after several years operating near irradiated areas, he found himself starting the mutation process into becoming a Ghoul. The first insight he had to his transformation was the cracking and flaking off of his skin, following shortly by a partial loss of his hair. He continued to ignore his symptoms until discriminatory behaviour from the human residents finally drove him off away from his dry and arid homelands.
Yannick travelled east, covering himself and the signs of his ghoulification, still stubbornly trying to cling onto the vestiges of his humanity. He still retains full function of his higher-level cognitive processes, allowing him to practice his medical trade to feed himself as he makes his journey towards the newest rumour of a stable settlement. After several months wandering the Wastelands to no avail (and losing most of his possessions in a raid), he sets his sights on New York.
The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
Join Date:
9/22/2011
Posts:
49
Member Details
OOC:
Minecraft Username: Trevisdabomb
Age: 19
Definition of meta gaming: Making use of information acquired OOCly to influence IC actions.
Definition of power gaming: Forcing one’s actions upon another without allowing the recipient to react, regardless of the likelihood that they would succeed.
What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?: I have played on many different fallout roleplaying servers as well as other rp servers, such as Lord of the Craft. I have also played Fallout 3 and Fallout New Vegas. Looking forward to Fallout 4 this year.
IC:
Name: Malachi Polleri
Age: 25
Appearance: Malachi has dirty blonde hair that gets more blonde during the summer and darker in the winter. He has a goatee that is always well kept. He likes to wear his favorite sports baseball cap with a blue t-shirt that says, "Owl's View" on it and dark blue jeans. He is 6'0" tall and weighs around 160 pounds. He has a scar near his left eye and a mole on his chin. He is Caucasian, but is so tan that he sometimes appears to be Latino. He wears glasses because he is near-sighted and cannot see far distances without them.
Personality: Malachi has always had a good, level head on his shoulders. He is able to keep calm in any kind of situation. He is extremely quiet and likes to keep to himself. When he talks he speaks so quietly that people have to ask him to repeat himself multiple times before they can actually understand him. He is very intelligent and can learn how to do just about anything. The downside is that he isn't a good fighter and he can hardly carry a gun. Malachi is also a very friendly person and because of this, he tries to help out anyone he can.
Backstory: Malachi grew up in a small town known as Shady Shores off of the coast of Maryland. His mother and father owned a small restaurant called the, "Owl's View". It sat on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Malachi was an only child, so his parents took very good care of him. They tried to shield him from the horrors of the wasteland by keeping him in the restaurant as much as possible. Malachi didn't argue with his parents over this because he had so many toys to play with that he never stopped to think about what could be outside. When he got older, he helped his parents run the restaurant. Due to him being inside the restaurant for so long, he became very intelligent with computers and anything electronic. He studied them in and out because that was almost all he could do. He became knowledgeable in many things by reading books. He learned how to hack into computers and do all sorts of things. But being locked away can only last for so long. Eventually, Malachi became bored of having to stay in the restaurant. He had heard stories from people that came into the restaurant about gunfights and how they had survived the wastelands. It fueled Malachi's want to go out and experience the real world. One night, Malachi snuck out of the restaurant and breathed in the stagnant, putrid air of the wastelands. He began walking and snuck past the guards keeping watch at the gate of the town. After he walked a good mile or two, Malachi heard a low, shrill. He quickly crouched down behind a rock. He heard it from his left. He slowly peaked around the rock to see a large ant that appeared to be bigger than him. It was eating on some kind of mutated plant that had huge leaves with a bulbous center. He had never seen anything like this before. He slowly pulled a notebook and pencil out and begin drawing the creature on his notepad. He also wrote down notes on how it behaved. After an hour or so, Malachi figured he had enough notes on the creature. He tried to put his notebook in his bag, but he dropped it. The notebook hit the ground with a small "smack", but that was enough to make the ant turn its head in Malachi's direction. Malachi's only instinct was to run. He grabbed his notebook and took off as fast as he could. The ant followed him in pursuit. The distance grew between Malachi and the ant as he ran. Eventually Malachi thought he was a good enough distance away, but in his thought, he caught his foot in a ditch and fell flat onto the ground with a loud thud. He slowly picked himself up, but remained in a crouched position. The ant crawled up onto the hill he had come from. It started to wiggle its antennae, in search of where he was hiding. Malachi began to hear a sound as if several people or creatures were running from behind the ant. He heard a gunshot and saw the ant drop to the ground. He saw several men walk up to the ant. "This will be good eating," one of the men said. "I wonder what it was chasing after. It looked as if it was scouting out the area", one of the other man replied. "I don't know, and I don't really care", said the third man. They cut the ant in half with a machete and two of them carried the halves. They walked off into the sunset, joking about how the wives would be upset that they brought Giant Ant meat home again. Malachi had a look of horror. He had barely escaped death. He waited a while before he ran back to his town and laid back into bed, scared for his life. Never again would he set foot in the wasteland, he thought. But boy was he wrong.
A year or so later, it was an average, sunny day in Shady Shores. Malachi and his parents were serving a number of patrons. Suddenly, Malachi heard gunshots ring outside of the restaurant. Malachi's father yelled to his wife, "Grab the guns." Everyone in the restaurant began to panic. The doors suddenly burst open and the sunny light shinned into the restaurant. Then, bullets began flying in. Malachi dove for a safe place behind the counter. His parents ducked behind with him as the entire restaurant was being littered with bullet holes. Most of the people began screaming, but were cut off by the sounds of bullets pinging off the walls causing their cries to be cut short. In a matter of seconds, but what felt like an eternity, the restaurant went silent. Malachi's mother whispered to Malachi, "I love you, son." His father then grabbed his arm and whispered, "Run." As he did so, he grabbed his gun, stood up and shot one of the men with his shotgun, blasting him out the door. Malachi ran to the back of the restaurant, but he couldn't leave his family behind. They were all that he had left. His father cocked the gun, kicking out a shell but it was too late. One of the men fired his pistol and shot him square in the forehead. Malachi's father dropped to the floor, blood pooling around him. Malachi gasped and held his mouth shut as he began sobbing quietly. His mother then stood up and yelled "Don't shoot", that's when Malachi knew there was nothing he could do to help. He stood up and pushed the door open sprinting with all he had. As he was leaving, he heard one of the men saying, "Come on out from behind there. We'll make sure to put you to good use." Another one of the men chuckled. Malachi surged with hate as he barreled through the town, zigzagging through the buildings as fast as he could. He ran through the gate, tears rolling down his face. He never looked back as he ran for miles before coming to a stop at a broken house. He began crying hysterically. He never thought this would happen. He remembered when he was younger that he had an uncle in a town in New York. Maybe he could find him there. It was the only thing he could think of doing. He began his slow journey to New York, hoping that his uncle was still alive.
Pardon the wait. As for your application it seems decent enough to accept. Nothing lore-breaking or overly complicated save for maybe the hair-dye but that can have it's explanations. Plenty of trader caravans have been making their way north to this area so that is a good way to introduce you.
The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything.
Join Date:
9/18/2012
Posts:
63
Minecraft:
RenagadeMan
Member Details
OOC:
Minecraft Username: RenagadeMan
Age: 16
Definition of meta gaming: Using OOC information in RP
Definition of power gaming: Forcing an action onto another player without them reacting
What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?: I've played on multiple RP Servers and I've played Fallout 1, 2, 3, and New Vegas
IC:
Name: Desmond RhineHolt
Age:27
Appearance: 6'0, 173Lbs Mesomorph (Muscular) Build, Bushy beard, medium dark brown hair, torn dark hoodie, brown pants, light gray gloves.
Personality:Strong silent type. Doesn't talk much unless needed, leveled headed, normal morality (Not a generic bad or anything like that)
Backstory: Born in Philadelphia around 2258, Desmond's life was just like anyone else's. It started off when he was 15, everything else before that is just crap about my first home, a trailer in the hills surrounded by rocks, and how my parents took care of me since I was too young to do anything. When my dad finally thought I was old enough to scavenge, he taught me how to fight first, somewhat how to at least. He taught him the basics of fist fighting (no judo ****) and use of up-close weapons, like rebar or a bat. Not gonna go into detail of it since it's mainly how to swing something without it flying out of your hands, how not to pull a muscle during a fight, and where to hit. I was never taught how to use a gun since we could never find one or find one that worked.
About my family though, like my Dad, he does most of the work since I don't have a mother. She didn't die fighting raiders or something stupid like that, she died eating a can of beans a rad roach was just into. Not a very memorable death but she's dead none the less. My Dad scavenges the city, constantly moving us upwards to the big city. He keeps saying that there's a safe haven up there....or something like that. He's goes a little bit crazier every time we move upwards, like he told me he found a stash of food under the counter of this diner we were scavenging. It was duffle bag full of nuka-cola, the empty kind, along with empty cans full of dirt and dust. He's poured it into his mouth like it was the real deal. So I knew he wouldn't make it too much longer eating dirt and drinking water from a toilet, because he's done that before.
So that's where my family ended, I didn't shoot him because he was crazy, I didn't have a gun. Instead I just told him there was some food in the next building over and that he should look it over so we don't get irradiated, even though he was already. He ran over there and I just slowly jogged away out the door and down the road. The way I survived was I'd just kill the animals that weren't insanely mutated, like a dog or something. For hydration though I just drank dirty water and things close too that, nothing from a lake or toilet, things like a water fountain if it still worked. But just like my Dad, I kept going up towards the big city, not sure why, I just did. Maybe it felt like a sense of hope to me or I thought that there was something up there, I don't know I just kept going up. But that's basically my story, nothing special, just kept going up.
Looks like you missed my app
Sorry Looking at it now/
Some reason I cannot quote reply, your accepted I'll alert staff.
I am not whitelisted even though I was approved
And also thank you.
OOC:[/b]
Minecraft Username: ajthemacboy[/b]
Age: 15[/b]
Definition of meta gaming: Using real life information in your role-play persona.[/b]
Definition of power gaming: Causing your role-play persona to exceed their realistic abilities.[/b]
What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?: I used to play many MMO/RPGs, but it's been a while. I'm looking for a new server and this one stuck out![/b]
IC:[/b]
Name: Calser Daniels[/b]
Age: 56[/b]
Appearance: Old, missing his left leg, gray, balding hair, shaggy medium length beard, wears a cap and has a pendant around his neck. His shirt is tattered plaid, and he's wearing what appear to be jeans. He's not fat, but not skinny either. He wears round, wireframed glasses with one lens cracked.[/b]
Personality: Lighthearted and wise. He doesn't say much, but smiles often and is kind when you need help. He understands his limitations as a cripple, but he's a genius who always has an idea, and isn't afraid to share it whether it's wrong or not (though it's usually brilliant.)[/b]
Backstory: He was living in the city as an inventor when the war started. He stayed in the basement of his skyscraper apartment, along with countless others, as the missiles shook the ground. At one point a missile struck the base of the building, causing most of the room to collapse. Their exit blocked, and many of their people dead, the survivors waited for the battle to end.[/b]
They survived by drinking rainwater that came through cracks and eating bugs and rats they found in the debris. Calser was just thankful that he didn't have to resort to cannibalism again - the last time this sort of thing had happened he was only 25, living in Russia, working as an weapons inventor for the government. [/b]
One week later, the ground stopped shaking. The survivors started to pull away the rubble in order to escape. What they saw was terrifying. [/b]
Most of the buildings had collapsed or had holes in them. Dead bodies littered the streets. Cars were everywhere, most of them crushed. It was snowing in the middle of summer - nuclear winter, Calser thought. [/b]
The survivors walked to the Empire State building, and you know the rest.[/b]
Hello I am minecraftkittys and I am reviewing you application today.
For one your character would be long dead if he was born before the war, and saying you were drinking rainwater through cracks in the building would still result in some radiation from the topside. It also doesn't really snow in summer on the server so :P. We have seasons.
OOC:
Minecraft Username:
Mystia_Lorlei
Age:
23
Definition of meta gaming:
The use of ill-gotten information whilst out of character, to provide some substantial boost to your character or position, this can include ore-meditating or abusing weaknesses listed on someones character sheet, or tidbits about their past that haven't come to be public knowledge via the course of roleplay.
Definition of power gaming:
Power Gaming includes the forcing of actions upon another player without giving them a proper chance to respond or retort, and in addition it includes over engineering a character to be far too imbalanced within the confines of roleplay. E.G; Mary Sues/Gary Sues, Superman... Individuals like that with unbelievable powers.
What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?:
I've been a Owner, Developer and Lore manger going on 10 years now... through my decade of experience I've penned lore for various servers and story arcs ranging from simple fetch quests, to entire complex socio-politcal systems for nations with thousands of years of history.... I've got experience in player/consumer engagement and how best bring a community forward and keep them hungry for more content... As a personal note, I was on the launch team of Fallout: Sins of our Fathers, back when it launched originally, I headed up the administration team and the Brotherhood of Steel during launch and for several months onward, only reason i stopped was due to the mind numbing pain of schooling, and familial medical issues but being so I'd love to help out in any capacity!
I've got the drive and motivation to provide quality lore, characters and ample time to engage in universe building... I've been round minecraft since Indef... I've played it too and fro, unique concepts for stories are eternally engaging! I do hope to be considered! Outside of Minecraft, I've played dozens of characters, from various table top games, ranging from Call of Cthulhu, to Only War, and the Rogue Trader series of games... I've Game Mastered many of my own campaigns and I love to engage my audience and write interactive and living stories that broach into topics pertinent to the modern day and age! I've penned a few poetic pieces that have won regional and national competitions back when I was in school, I currently am penning a novella myself, So let there be no fear pertaining to my love of writing!
IC:
Name:
Anna Locklear
Gender:
Female
Age:
41
Appearance:
Anna is a gruff and snarky figure, clearly one of wiry persuasion and effective appearance. Anna keeps her garb simple and effective whilst that does seem to contrast her fairly aristocratic facial features, her long jet black hair is usually tied up to keep it from falling in her face whilst she works, she posses a few nicks and scars on her face and neck, disfiguring her in some capacity, the right side of her face was destroyed by a Death Claw's rending talons, leaving said side of her face to be reconstructed with artificial flesh, thus being, she is unable to effectively control the right side of her face, leaving her with a half scowl perpetually. She posses one jade eye, whilst her other eye, is a milky green due to damage sustained whilst in combat. Routinely she wraps her face and head with a heavy cowl to protect and veil her damaged facial features from the brutality of the wasteland sun and wind.
Personality:
Being that her profession is engineering, she may look perpetually displeased, calculating and overly serious, she ironically possesses a strong sense of humor, though some may find her befuddling and be unsettled by her otherwise dark humor. She is reliable and steadfast, though can be fickle if she fears her life in danger, in which she would contently do what she must to ensure her survival. Having traveled across the US in many capacities over her lifetime, she is a very world savvy person, always hungry for lost knowledge.... though she can be cloistered to those of her Chapter for many a folk in the waste may come from disreputable backgrounds.
Traits:
Anna is incredibly talented with machines and equipment, her life was built around the upkeep of machines and parts even before she was recruited into the Brotherhood, strangely enough, she is intimately familiar with Enclave technology and its function, she is able to upgrade and maintain complex machinery and execute repairs whilst in the fray of combat.
Though she may possess extreme proficiency in machinery and combat engineering, her smaller frame and pre-existing injuries leave her il disposed for direct combat in melee, but as such, she does have a nack of plasma weapons and a fond love for their raw power. With that said, she is able to hold her own in a fight, though she is more suited for combat engineering rather then a front-line grunt.
Backstory:
Anna was conceived in a gestation tank in the ruins of Vancouver to a hidden detachment of the North-Western Enclave, after the fall of the Posidon Oil Rig. She was raised to function as a general front-line grunt in the planned Enclave push onto the mainland, but with the collapse of the Command structure after the fall of Posidon, the Vancouver detachment drifted wearily across the country, seeking cover and other elements of their kin. During these days whilst in the depths of the Black Mountains, it was here that Anna suffered her iconic scar and injury whilst investigating strange signals from the mountains depths, leaving her slack jawed and ever-scowling.
The Rallying cry of President Eden drew in the remaining detachment into the bastion of Raven Rock. For the duration of the Capital Wasteland conflict, Anna served as a member of the Sigma Engineering Branch of the Enclaves militant arm. But following the crushing defeats suffered at the hands of Brotherhood and many within the Wastes, along with the destruction of both the Citadel and the loss of Ravenrock, the Enclave gave the order to go to ground and lie low till suitable command and control could be re-established.
As she fled with a bedraggled detachment from the ruins of Raven Rock and the hastily abandoned Adams Base, the contingent fled into the radioactive swamp lands of the South East, the humid heat and brutal wild life, took a toll on the withdrawing scientists and soldiers. As the groups numbers dwindled, they found themselves horrifically set upon by the South Eastern Brotherhood Chapter, in which their numbers where decimated, and the large majority of their contingent was captured. Whilst wounded in one of several skirmishes, she was allowed to recover and in a short time span, was drafted into the Chapter as an engineering specialist.
Whilst the word drifted among the reclusive Southern Chapter of the Brotherhood, that a proverbial technological Eden existed within the northern reaches of the former state of New York, Many within the Chapter found it less then appealing to risk resources after the rumored withdraw of the local Chapter aiming to set up residence within the shattered ruins of the Big Apple. Opting for a more subtle approach to review the potential viability of the ruins of Manhattan, Locklear was sent with the expressed task of recovering information of what befell the Chapter tasked with establishing itself upon the ruins of the Big Apple, and uncovering if the rumors of lost technology was indeed just the musings of old men or some darker truth yet unfound.
Annnd of Course “Tunnel Snakes Rule!”
Both of you are now whitelisted on the server, apologies for the wait. Currently our Dev is out of commission so it's a little slow.
Quick question: about how many people are on this server on a daily basis?
Just thought i might ask before i submit an application due to the fact that i like a server to have a decent amount of people on to interact with at a time.
Whitelist application:[/b]
OOC:[/b]
Minecraft Username: stev_med[/b]
Age: 22[/b]
Definition of meta gaming: most basic definition is using out of character knowledge to benefit your character. example people on team speak talk about raiding a base and you gather an army knowing an attack is coming (unless it is a planned event)[/b]
Definition of power gaming: giving a character crazy powers that are unrealistic. example being able to dodge a sniper bullet cause you "sensed it" [/b]
What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?: Way too much to name a mean dang, the vault, sins of our father, wild wasteland, in minecraft, swtor, wow, swg for mmos ect. [/b]
IC:[/b]
Name: Komodoh nickname is komo[/b]
Age: 22[/b]
Appearance: black hair dyed blue, tattered white jacket, black undershirt, grey pants with knee guards, red shoes, average build just a normal young adult.[/b]
Personality: Has kind heart and trys to see the good in everyone. He is very competitive in life and usually has a big goofy grin on his face. He is a loyal friend and trustworthy guy that boarders being naive. [/b]
Backstory: [/b]
Komo is you average wastelander who grew up in a small fishing village in New Jersey in a sturdy family. He luckily hasn't had to many nasty surprises in his life and that could come to bite him in the butt further along his road. He has a younger brother who is a shy person who likes to stay around and fish most of his days with his father. His father owns and operates a fishing boat to provide for his family while his mom takes care of the homestead. [/b]
[b]Komo is the type of person who was a friend to everyone in the village as he works at a stand cooking and selling the fish that his family catches. His life is very typical of the wasteland, he enjoys chatting with the travelers and caravans learning new things about the the world and the sights they have seen. The hardest times are when the occasional raiders attempt to raid the town. To prepare himself he along with the rest of the village are trained in small arms use and maintenance by the town sheriff and as such is part of the defense militia. [/b]
[b]Today Komo has decided to join us with a caravan and head north to learn more about the world and make a name for himself. The world is his oyster and it is time to cook! [/b]
[b]Komo skill set is being able to cook and trade food that his family catches and basic first aid, (he has been known to cut himself with a knife while cooking) general small arms use and maintenance, and a bit of barter skills from selling his products. [/b]
[b]Tagged skills: barter, small arms, survival [/b]
"Tunnel Snakes Rule!"[/b]
Seems you forgot to whitelist me. My application was posted along with Prince_S's. Here's my IGN: zeromeeco
alright so I checked and I was whitelisted this morning, but as straw hat said, he was not white listed, and now trying to log on I find that I am no longer white listed.
OOC: Out of Character
Minecraft Username: selbor61
Age: 15
Definition of meta gaming: Meta gaming is the use of OOC knowledge and letting it actively or passively affect your roleplay experience.
Definition of power gaming: Power-gaming is forcing an action onto another person’s character without their consent.
What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?: I have roleplayed on multiple servers. Sins of our Fathers and Akavir tend to be the ones that come to mind.
IC: In Character
Name: Alton Gerry
Age: 22
Appearance: Alton is a man of 5’11. He has short, black hair that almost never grows. He appears to be of caucasian descent. Numerous scars decorate his body, most particularly a faint, bull-shaped one on his right hand. He has a beard that is well-kept, at least to Wasteland Standards. He wears faint, black jeans paired with a grungy white shirt and a light grey jacket and black sneakers.
Personality: Alton has always had two things on his mind. Surviving and making it a better place. Well, at least for himself. Anything that can benefit he keeps closes. He’s the first for loot and the last for death. Crafty and reliable, Alton can always think of something to get him out of a sticky situation. The Wasteland has managed to teach him something most never learn up until they are dead. Don’t trust anybody but yourself. No exceptions come to that rule.
Backstory: Alton never knew his parents, and perhaps that was a good thing. Born in a small village in Eastern Colorado in 2263, he was picked up right before the village was burnt to the ground by Legion raiders scouting to the East. He was branded with the all too familiar bull tattoo on his right hand. But it was in his fortune that this century was pretty corrupt. He was sold to a slave caravan that headed even further east, into the pre-War Plains Commonwealth. He was then traded for what seemed like an eternity, further and further to the East.
As the tenth slave caravan paused to rest in the southern Capital Wastelands, they were ambushed by a liberal trade caravan. Rounds and casings were exchanged, but in the end, the slavers lay dead. Free for the first time in his life, Alton set off with the trade caravan. They were eventually given the name the “Free Traders”. Alton learned how to do basic arithmetic and reading and writing under the other traders. He could repair the most basic of Wasteland tools, like a basic .32 hunting rifle or a 9mm pistol. Alton could also repair and sew some clothing as well as stitch a cut. At around 2282, he set off North to the Eastern Commonwealth, in particular, the ruins of New York city. He was held down in Northern Maryland as he saw lucrative work as a handyman in a small town and made quick caps, but lost it all in a scam right before 2284. Disgruntled and bothered, he left for the remnants of the Eastern Commonwealth in search for new riches and treasures.
Tunnel Snakes rule.
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A fine app, and I know you to be an even finer RPer. Therefore, you are...
OOC:
Minecraft Username: EpicKetchup
Age: 22
Definition of meta gaming: Using out-of-character (OOC) information in an in-character (IC) setting.
Definition of power gaming: Acting in a manner that makes it impossible for other players to respond. The most common example is dictating the effects of your actions on another person without their input.
What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?:
IC:
Name: Yannick Bishop Graves
Age: 37
Appearance: Standing at 6'3" when fully upright, Yannick possesses a lithe and scrawny body completely covered in bandages, looking much like a high-school basketball star player nearing the end of his growth spurt that is disguising himself as a mummy. He explains that this is due to the harsh winds from his place of origin - his skin had been sanded down, worn to a sensitive paper-thin layer. A medical mask, dirty and stained from age and past operations, covered the lower half of his face, leaving his green eyes and stray strands of dirty-blonde hair to peek out from below the ubiquitous bandages that encircled his forehead. What small patches of skin that are revealed is slightly reddened from the sun and lightly tanned. He wears a hooded jacket over a white T-shirt along with a small satchel that carries his medical equipment, brown trousers and sturdy lace-up boots.
Underneath the clothing and wrappings, however, the reason for his 'suit' of bandages becomes apparent. Small parts of his body have started to take on an unhealthy, necrotic appearance and pieces of his skin have started to flake off, revealing raw flesh underneath. Save for his decaying body, the only thing of note would be several bullet scars and a stylized '42' over his heart.
Personality: Introverted and quiet during first "friendly" impressions (friendly being the both parties aren't pointing guns at the other), Yannick rarely speaks to strangers - or even to acquaintances - unless the other party initiates the conversation or unless he has questions to ask of them. Not exactly a social butterfly, if put in a room with a group of people he doesn't know well, he would feel most comfortable standing in a corner watching the others silently. To his patients and friends however, he is courteous and warm-hearted, willing to patiently explain medical concepts to them and figure out the best course of action.
Out in the Wasteland he is distrusting of others, knowing of his own inherent weaknesses and familiar with the 'dog eats dog' mentality of the world. Although not a coward by any means, he will be first out of a firefight if a situation to escape presents itself to him. Stubborn and slightly arrogant, Yannick strives to find a niche for himself and the skills that he offers.
Traits:
Backstory: Hailing from the region of Arizona, Yannick had aspirations to be a Wasteland medic like his parents before him, travelling from settlement to settlement peddling their skills. He was the only child of his family and was doted upon by both his parents for his brightness and aptitude towards the medical field, often sitting in as his parents treated the myriad types of wounds and damage brought on by day to day living in hostile environments. He grew up to be just like his parents, knowledgeable in the medical field but with no piece of paper to show for it. Wanting to make more of an impact on the Wasteland, he split up from his parents several years after he had reached 20 and went on his lonesome way.
The high-levels of radiation in the surrounding areas combined with his stubbornness and youthful arrogance would be his undoing and after several years operating near irradiated areas, he found himself starting the mutation process into becoming a Ghoul. The first insight he had to his transformation was the cracking and flaking off of his skin, following shortly by a partial loss of his hair. He continued to ignore his symptoms until discriminatory behaviour from the human residents finally drove him off away from his dry and arid homelands.
Yannick travelled east, covering himself and the signs of his ghoulification, still stubbornly trying to cling onto the vestiges of his humanity. He still retains full function of his higher-level cognitive processes, allowing him to practice his medical trade to feed himself as he makes his journey towards the newest rumour of a stable settlement. After several months wandering the Wastelands to no avail (and losing most of his possessions in a raid), he sets his sights on New York.
Balanced and logical with the usual level of quality that is almost implicit in your work. What else is there to say?
OOC:
Minecraft Username: Trevisdabomb
Age: 19
Definition of meta gaming: Making use of information acquired OOCly to influence IC actions.
Definition of power gaming: Forcing one’s actions upon another without allowing the recipient to react, regardless of the likelihood that they would succeed.
What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?: I have played on many different fallout roleplaying servers as well as other rp servers, such as Lord of the Craft. I have also played Fallout 3 and Fallout New Vegas. Looking forward to Fallout 4 this year.
IC:
Name: Malachi Polleri
Age: 25
Appearance: Malachi has dirty blonde hair that gets more blonde during the summer and darker in the winter. He has a goatee that is always well kept. He likes to wear his favorite sports baseball cap with a blue t-shirt that says, "Owl's View" on it and dark blue jeans. He is 6'0" tall and weighs around 160 pounds. He has a scar near his left eye and a mole on his chin. He is Caucasian, but is so tan that he sometimes appears to be Latino. He wears glasses because he is near-sighted and cannot see far distances without them.
Personality: Malachi has always had a good, level head on his shoulders. He is able to keep calm in any kind of situation. He is extremely quiet and likes to keep to himself. When he talks he speaks so quietly that people have to ask him to repeat himself multiple times before they can actually understand him. He is very intelligent and can learn how to do just about anything. The downside is that he isn't a good fighter and he can hardly carry a gun. Malachi is also a very friendly person and because of this, he tries to help out anyone he can.
Backstory: Malachi grew up in a small town known as Shady Shores off of the coast of Maryland. His mother and father owned a small restaurant called the, "Owl's View". It sat on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Malachi was an only child, so his parents took very good care of him. They tried to shield him from the horrors of the wasteland by keeping him in the restaurant as much as possible. Malachi didn't argue with his parents over this because he had so many toys to play with that he never stopped to think about what could be outside. When he got older, he helped his parents run the restaurant. Due to him being inside the restaurant for so long, he became very intelligent with computers and anything electronic. He studied them in and out because that was almost all he could do. He became knowledgeable in many things by reading books. He learned how to hack into computers and do all sorts of things. But being locked away can only last for so long. Eventually, Malachi became bored of having to stay in the restaurant. He had heard stories from people that came into the restaurant about gunfights and how they had survived the wastelands. It fueled Malachi's want to go out and experience the real world. One night, Malachi snuck out of the restaurant and breathed in the stagnant, putrid air of the wastelands. He began walking and snuck past the guards keeping watch at the gate of the town. After he walked a good mile or two, Malachi heard a low, shrill. He quickly crouched down behind a rock. He heard it from his left. He slowly peaked around the rock to see a large ant that appeared to be bigger than him. It was eating on some kind of mutated plant that had huge leaves with a bulbous center. He had never seen anything like this before. He slowly pulled a notebook and pencil out and begin drawing the creature on his notepad. He also wrote down notes on how it behaved. After an hour or so, Malachi figured he had enough notes on the creature. He tried to put his notebook in his bag, but he dropped it. The notebook hit the ground with a small "smack", but that was enough to make the ant turn its head in Malachi's direction. Malachi's only instinct was to run. He grabbed his notebook and took off as fast as he could. The ant followed him in pursuit. The distance grew between Malachi and the ant as he ran. Eventually Malachi thought he was a good enough distance away, but in his thought, he caught his foot in a ditch and fell flat onto the ground with a loud thud. He slowly picked himself up, but remained in a crouched position. The ant crawled up onto the hill he had come from. It started to wiggle its antennae, in search of where he was hiding. Malachi began to hear a sound as if several people or creatures were running from behind the ant. He heard a gunshot and saw the ant drop to the ground. He saw several men walk up to the ant. "This will be good eating," one of the men said. "I wonder what it was chasing after. It looked as if it was scouting out the area", one of the other man replied. "I don't know, and I don't really care", said the third man. They cut the ant in half with a machete and two of them carried the halves. They walked off into the sunset, joking about how the wives would be upset that they brought Giant Ant meat home again. Malachi had a look of horror. He had barely escaped death. He waited a while before he ran back to his town and laid back into bed, scared for his life. Never again would he set foot in the wasteland, he thought. But boy was he wrong.
A year or so later, it was an average, sunny day in Shady Shores. Malachi and his parents were serving a number of patrons. Suddenly, Malachi heard gunshots ring outside of the restaurant. Malachi's father yelled to his wife, "Grab the guns." Everyone in the restaurant began to panic. The doors suddenly burst open and the sunny light shinned into the restaurant. Then, bullets began flying in. Malachi dove for a safe place behind the counter. His parents ducked behind with him as the entire restaurant was being littered with bullet holes. Most of the people began screaming, but were cut off by the sounds of bullets pinging off the walls causing their cries to be cut short. In a matter of seconds, but what felt like an eternity, the restaurant went silent. Malachi's mother whispered to Malachi, "I love you, son." His father then grabbed his arm and whispered, "Run." As he did so, he grabbed his gun, stood up and shot one of the men with his shotgun, blasting him out the door. Malachi ran to the back of the restaurant, but he couldn't leave his family behind. They were all that he had left. His father cocked the gun, kicking out a shell but it was too late. One of the men fired his pistol and shot him square in the forehead. Malachi's father dropped to the floor, blood pooling around him. Malachi gasped and held his mouth shut as he began sobbing quietly. His mother then stood up and yelled "Don't shoot", that's when Malachi knew there was nothing he could do to help. He stood up and pushed the door open sprinting with all he had. As he was leaving, he heard one of the men saying, "Come on out from behind there. We'll make sure to put you to good use." Another one of the men chuckled. Malachi surged with hate as he barreled through the town, zigzagging through the buildings as fast as he could. He ran through the gate, tears rolling down his face. He never looked back as he ran for miles before coming to a stop at a broken house. He began crying hysterically. He never thought this would happen. He remembered when he was younger that he had an uncle in a town in New York. Maybe he could find him there. It was the only thing he could think of doing. He began his slow journey to New York, hoping that his uncle was still alive.
Tunnel Snakes Rule!
missed me come on guys dont you remember little ol' me also what is server IP FYI or you pm people that I might just be blind
Pardon the wait. As for your application it seems decent enough to accept. Nothing lore-breaking or overly complicated save for maybe the hair-dye but that can have it's explanations. Plenty of trader caravans have been making their way north to this area so that is a good way to introduce you.
OOC:
Minecraft Username: RenagadeMan
Age: 16
Definition of meta gaming: Using OOC information in RP
Definition of power gaming: Forcing an action onto another player without them reacting
What is your past experience in RP, Fallout or otherwise?: I've played on multiple RP Servers and I've played Fallout 1, 2, 3, and New Vegas
IC:
Name: Desmond RhineHolt
Age:27
Appearance: 6'0, 173Lbs Mesomorph (Muscular) Build, Bushy beard, medium dark brown hair, torn dark hoodie, brown pants, light gray gloves.
Personality:Strong silent type. Doesn't talk much unless needed, leveled headed, normal morality (Not a generic bad or anything like that)
Backstory: Born in Philadelphia around 2258, Desmond's life was just like anyone else's. It started off when he was 15, everything else before that is just crap about my first home, a trailer in the hills surrounded by rocks, and how my parents took care of me since I was too young to do anything. When my dad finally thought I was old enough to scavenge, he taught me how to fight first, somewhat how to at least. He taught him the basics of fist fighting (no judo ****) and use of up-close weapons, like rebar or a bat. Not gonna go into detail of it since it's mainly how to swing something without it flying out of your hands, how not to pull a muscle during a fight, and where to hit. I was never taught how to use a gun since we could never find one or find one that worked.
About my family though, like my Dad, he does most of the work since I don't have a mother. She didn't die fighting raiders or something stupid like that, she died eating a can of beans a rad roach was just into. Not a very memorable death but she's dead none the less. My Dad scavenges the city, constantly moving us upwards to the big city. He keeps saying that there's a safe haven up there....or something like that. He's goes a little bit crazier every time we move upwards, like he told me he found a stash of food under the counter of this diner we were scavenging. It was duffle bag full of nuka-cola, the empty kind, along with empty cans full of dirt and dust. He's poured it into his mouth like it was the real deal. So I knew he wouldn't make it too much longer eating dirt and drinking water from a toilet, because he's done that before.
So that's where my family ended, I didn't shoot him because he was crazy, I didn't have a gun. Instead I just told him there was some food in the next building over and that he should look it over so we don't get irradiated, even though he was already. He ran over there and I just slowly jogged away out the door and down the road. The way I survived was I'd just kill the animals that weren't insanely mutated, like a dog or something. For hydration though I just drank dirty water and things close too that, nothing from a lake or toilet, things like a water fountain if it still worked. But just like my Dad, I kept going up towards the big city, not sure why, I just did. Maybe it felt like a sense of hope to me or I thought that there was something up there, I don't know I just kept going up. But that's basically my story, nothing special, just kept going up.
Tunnles snakes rule!