So... now I'll be moderate here and I'd ask you yo touch up on the strengths and weaknesses alonvside make the skin look more like a Ghoul, alongside of describing who your character was before the war and major events inbetween plus I'd like for you to fill out the RP example but as of now you are...(I'd also recommend reading the rules a tad bit more)
OOC:
IGN: bard252 Age (Optional): Skype name (Optional for the group chat/faction chats): matthew.dejong1 Time Zone: Pacific Prior Bans and reasons: lol Define Role-play: RP is to take the life of someone you would never be able to, and see life from their perception, and actions, in their life Define Powergaming: Doing unrealistic things, or taking control of other people's actions Define Metagaming: Using OOC info IC Previous roleplay experience: SoOF, AoOF, The Vault, Wild Wasteland, etc. Most Fallout servers I've been on, and usually a builder. Previous Fallout experience: 200+ hours in both console Fallouts, beaten all but PS2 Fallout Have you read the rules?: Mhmm Write any further questions here: IC: Character Name: John Cain Age: 234 Gender: Male Race: Ghoul Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): https://gyazo.com/bb4d4c388555e4c1e6d8eace95b5f4cb
An old war ghoul, his battle worn face scarred by years in the wasteland. He wears a simple set of clothes, covered with marks of his old lives. His face is covered by a mask to keep our the elements. He towers over most, at 6'5". He is a mix between muscular and skinny, due to the fact that he is a ghoul. His eyes are cold, with a scar on his face from the beginning of the war. Strengths: Stubborn. He's headstrong, tackling problems head on without much thinking. He very much likes to get things done efficiently however. Weaknesses: Unsympathetic for the most part. Weakness for children, or harm to children or women. He is tired. So tired. Weakness to drinking. Impatient. S.P.E.C.I.A.L. (Like in the games, you have 40 points to allocate. You must have at least one point in each, and cannot have more than ten.):
Strength: 7
Perception: 4
Endurance: 6
Charisma: 4
Intelligence: 6
Agility: 6
Luck: 7
Character Biography (Please include at least two quality paragraphs): Boom. (WARNING, LONG)
He watched the bombs drop. He wasn't home then. His wife was, as were his children. He watched their atomic rain fall down, shadowing the earth with the screams of the innocent. It wasn't meant to be like this. The war changed mankind. It changed him.
33. That was his age. October. It's all he remembers from it. His first name was John. His birth name. After the bombs dropped, he as a man changed. His name changed, aswell. Cain was born in rural New York City, into an immigrant family from Spain, the . They weren't poor, but they weren't well off. They did alright. His mother worked at a press factor, while his father recently left the military. He had two brothers, Jefe. the oldest. and Mark. John was the youngest, his mother and father deciding to give him a more Americanized name. They decided on John, from the bible. He was a wonderful child. He did well in sports, enjoyed baseball, and did whatever American kid did back then. Enjoy life. Sometimes bits and pieces come back to him, the good and bad, like how his first kiss was little Susie in 6th grade, or how his brother Jefe tried to drown him as a kid in the bath tub because he wanted to be the youngest still.
Jefe was... a special child. He had a lot of special needs. In his teens, before John was born, his parents took him to a psychiatrist, due to a traumatic experience when he was younger involving two dogs and a chew toy. Jefe suffered brain damage, and, as a result, ended up into a psychopathic murderer in his later years.
Mark, however, was the wonder child. Good grades, good looking, kind. John looked up to him, and Mark treated John like gold. Perhaps that was part of the reason Jefe tried to drown him. Mark ended up joining the Navy on a contract, but later died at sea during the Great War.
So here lies John, the youngest. His mother and father didn't have much time to care for their children, so that duty fell on Mark. John had his troubles in school, the usual American teen struggle. Heart breaks, proms, bullying, falling in love, working hard. He was a good kid. After highschool he attended Alabama State University, earning his Engineering degree. During college, he met the love of his life, Maria. They dated through college, and married soon after graduation. Around this time, John knew about the war going on, and being the all American boy he was, enlisted as an officer in the Corps of Engineers in the Army in 2067. He was later deployed to Alaska to fight the communists, doing demolitions and building bridges, while commanding troops. He achieved the rank of Captain before being discharged from the Army for leg injuries in 2072. By this time, he and Maria had a child. A girl, named Lela. She was 4 when John was discharged.
After being discharged from the Army with honorable mentions, he got a well paying job at RobCo as a factory Supervisor, and Maria had already been working at a local Super-Duper Mart. Luckily, the factory was not far from their house, due to RobCo building housing for the workers so they could easily commute together. Every day during his break, he would stare at his house, longing to spend moe time with his wife and child. To this day he still wishes he spent more time.
It's 2077 now. It's October, John's working late, and Maria is pregnant at home with another child, this time a boy. He smiles. Today is a good day. He had picked up a bouquet and some fancy wine, and a nice bicycle for Lela. The clock strikes 9. One more hour and he can go home and see his beautiful wife and child. He is happy today. Very happy. He yawns, and goes on his evening break. It's 9:35 now, he dozed just a little bit. He was awoken to air raid sirens. RobCo had a contingency plan for this, due to even more rising tensions with China, with their nuclear threats. Each factory has a bomb shelter underneath, room for all their families. John runs to the window looking over the houses, and sees people panicking, scrambling below. He rushes out, and runs home, forgetting about his car. It's 9:40. He gathers his wife and child, both scared and half dazed. They have no time to pack. But Maria stops. She can't run, she can't go on. The baby is kicking, she says. John has tears in his eyes. He doesn't want to leave them. Maria tells him to go, take Lela with him. John tries to stay. It's 9:43, the clock is ticking. He lets go of Maria's hand, yelling his last I love you that he would ever say. John take's Lela's hand, taking her with him to the factor, to the bomb shelter. To what was supposed to be safety. They are the last ones in. The door closes. It's dark. Someone's watch reads 9:47. Everyone is scared, the babies crying, children wetting themselves, husbands and wives holding each other. Crash. Boom. They're so close. the bombs. John holds onto Lela, tears running down from losing Maria and his unborn child. It was going to be a son, their son.
Suddenly a bomb comes close. Too close. The shelter rocks, and cracks and breaks, killing several families. John and Lela huddle to the corner, whimpering, scared. John just wants it over, he can't live without Maria. A white light flashes, blinding everyone left momentarily. The shelter crumbles, and rocks. John is knocked out.
John woke up, his skin burning, his throat dry and raspy. He looked around, dizzy and disoriented. It was two days later. The bodies in the shelter had started slowly rotting. In his arms he held the last love of his life, Lela. She didn't make it, she didn't survive. Almost no one did. He was left alive and another man, his skin too burning like a thousand suns. John pukes beside him, seeing all the bodies, and looks back at Lela. He can't believe she's gone, he tries to cry but he can't. He's too dehydrated and weak to cry. He couldn't comprehend that God had allowed him to live while so many others died. He looks around, the only things in his mind survival and his family. He gets up shakily and dizzily, looking down to see a couple of skin flakes from his arms. He shrugs it off, and finds emergency rations, quickly eating them, but realizing it was a bad idea and pukes. The man left alive, unconscious, his legs crushed by rubble. He knew he had to get out. For days he pried away at the rubble blocking the only exit, living off only emergency rations and irradiated bottled water. He felt he was going insane, in a room full of corpses slowly rotting, including his own daughter's. Days later, he finally was able to make an opening through the rubble using a fire axe and crowbar. He packed as much food and water he could in a small bug out bag someone had brang, and took his first steps out into the world.
It was bright. He had to shield his eyes from it. He could barely see. Fires were still going. In some places he felt he would puke, probably from the mass amounts of radiation. He saw demolished houses, trees flat, and dead bodies. So many dead bodies, rushing to get to the factories where the bomb shelters were. It was sickening. Upon leaving his own shelter, he realized he wasn't the same man anymore. There was no way he could be. Remembering his days in catholic school, he decided on a more fitting name for himself. Cain, for he is who who restlessly wanders the earth.
Skip to a year later. It's anarchy. His hair began falling out a couple months after the bombs dropped. His skin burned and peeled like a 3rd degree sunburn. He met another like him, Adam. They traveled together. Cain never knew much about Adam, only that he was more advanced in the process of what is now known as ghoulification, as well as the fact that Adam was a researcher before the bombs dropped. Now he was a wanderer like Cain. They both heard of a place where the could get help, in DC. It was a good state away, but together they could make it. Eventually, they reached the Underworld, full of people like them, in varying stages. Cain quickly felt at home. After a while, Cain's skin rotted away, and his hair fell out, and his voice got raspy and he got sick. He was scared. He looked in the dirty broken mirror and he was scared at what he was now. If Maria and Lela were still alive, would they still love him as their father? Adam helped make sure Cain never went crazy. They shared stories together. They went outside together. They became peace keepers in the Underworld, removing those who couldn't comprehend what was happening. But everyone succumbs to craziness somehow. They all had to, to survive in this wasteland. Adam went first. One night he woke up screaming, saying he was a zombie, begging for Cain to kill him. One shot to the head. Cain knew mercy, and helped Adam find sanctity in the hands of God. Cain left after that.
For years, Cain traveled, gathering stories from all over, ghouls like him, regular people with better shelters and better luck. They were scared of him. He was shunned and shot at and looked at as a monster. He never could find a place to settle down. So he wandered. For a long, long time he wandered. He wandered from his old warzone of Alaska, down to the bottom tip of Mexico. He was shunned in most places, but accepted in only a few. He was still scared of what he was becoming. But he adapted, as did the wasteland. For he was Cain, he who walks the Earth restless and weary. He kept the memory of his family always in his mind, always pestering him. Some nights he would wake up ready to blow his own brains out because he missed them, because he hated this world, he hated himself. But a little voice, always swearing that it was Lela's, told him to go on. That there was something more for him. And there was. He found another group like him, Ghouls they called themselves. They accepted him, baptizing him again in the name of the Atom. They were a cult, Cain knew, but he didn't care. He fit in with a bunch of bible thumping crazy zombies. They called themselves Knights of the Blue Cross. He still wears the symbol. He traveled with them for a long while, being shunned away for their looks and beliefs. He resented what mankind had become, a group of scared, driveling, neanderthals. He always wished it could go back to the old way, back to when it was simple. Working regular hours, coming home to a nice warm bed, loving family, and good meal. He always misses it. He always will.
Fast forward 150 so years. The Knights of the Blue Cross were disbanded, after being raided by a settlement they camped near one night. They were slaughtered. Cain has escaped barely with his life, but not before being branded with a Y across his face. To this day he doesn't know what it means. Now he is again wandering, always lost, always searching. He has grown weary. Tired, always hungry for his previous life. His travels have lead him back up to Canada, a place he enjoyed a lot. It felt clean. It felt almost peaceful, if you didn't mind the constant warring factions, nuclear winters, and hostile locals. It reminded him of his previous life. He saddles up to Niagara falls, always enjoying the water falls. It helps him get peace. Clear his head. Like likes to come here every 50 years or so. It's changed, being a whole lot less irradiated. but There is no escaping the Shadows of the Old World. He hears shuffling behind him. He whips around just in time to see a baseball bat come slamming down on his head, and hear a bag rustling and being put over his head. The next thing he remembers is waking up with nothing but the clothes on his back outside the town of Niagara, robbed. He sighs, and heads in. Time to start again.
Roleplay Scenario: Time: 3:18 P.M. Location: 14 miles South of Niagara As you're walking north along a desolate highway when you spot two large black birds circling in the sky in the distance. To the east, large thunderheads loom on the horizon. Hopeful to avoid the storm, you begin to walk a bit more briskly; scanning the area to find shelter from the radioactive downpour. You observe a small light grey smoke plume coming from the median of the highway only a couple hundred meters away. Before approaching the scene, you take a quick look in your bag (below is a list of your items). As you approach the scene, you can see that it is a Merchant Caravan that has been hit, likely by raiders. The merchant lies bloody and beaten to death near a slaughtered Brahman, blood covers his clothing and a box of items is scattered near him. Of the two guards, one lies near a jersey barrier; empty shell casings from her caravan shotgun scattered around her corpse. The other guard is struggling to pull himself upright using the one of the carts wheels, his left leg had been blown off below the shin and is now nothing but a bloody mix of singed skin and asphalt. Bag contents: 1x 10mm Pistol 4x 10mm Pistol rounds 1x bottle of dirty water 2x Mentants 1x Salisbury steak 1x Squirrel on a stick 1x small radio (functional) 1x Stimpak 1x Half-used first aid kit (missing supplies) What do you do?: Cain would immediately break out his single stimpack and half used first aid kit. He would first check the surroundings, having his 10mm at the ready, and then check the first guard, who he finds has no pulse. He would sigh, looking up at the sky and cursing at himself for being too "caring". He'd move his hand away from his 10mm, and grab his medical supplies, going to the obviously alive guard, popping a pack of mentants for that extra "Oomph".
"Are you alright?" JCain would ask in his raspy voice, to which the guard laughs, and replies "**** no! I'm not ****ing alright! Get help you asshole!".
Cain shake his head, tearing away the fabric around the guard's blown off leg. He'd take what medical supplies and tried to wrap gauze around the open wound, stabbing the guard with the stimpack first.
"**** man, get out of here. Just put a bullet in my brain, and take the rest of the **** the raiders didn't take. You look like the grim ****ing reaper anyways".
Cain shakes his head again, mouthing "No", and helps the guard hobble to the caravan, seeing the clouds getting darker, he knows he needs to find cover, but there is none. He instead sees the remnants of the caravan, the cloth covering and wooden cart. He scavenges what he can from the left over things the raiders didn't want, and start pulling the wooden cart over the guard. The guard is near passed out now. Cain slaps him hard, and hands him his bottle of water and a squirrel on a stick. The guard looks at it, and starts quickly drinking the water. Cain shakes his head, a third time, and starts using his radio to try and get a frequency to get help. There isn't much hope in this weather. He hears the rain start hitting the cart, and hopes for the best, that someone comes by and notices, and the rain lets up. He checks to see that the guard is breathing heavily. It's all he could do, Cain thinks, it's in god's hands now.
Please read the actual post, the formatting got goofed up
I'll be honest - this was a close one. The character's concept itself was a little edgy, but you wrote him well enough that I actually wound up liking him. There were some noticeable grammatical errors, but those aren't a death sentence. There was a lot of good stuff in this app. It wasn't the best we've had - not by a looooong way - but it was alright, and I think there's something there.
That said, two things decided this for us: the skin, and the fact you didn't mention your previous bans. I'll address them both now:
The skin is edgy. Quite edgy. I mean, it's within the realm of possibility in the Fallout universe, but it's just not good enough for us. Change the skin - you're welcome to have the hood as a second layer that can be removed, but as of now it's too ninja-y.
And then, of course, your bans. According to some of our staff, you've been banned/temp-banned from several servers. Needless to say, your omission of this information reflects very badly on you. I suggest next time you mention them - others may not be so lenient.
But you won't have to re-make your app. PM me with a better skin, and you'll be whitelisted. Until then, though, you're...
IGN:Pearl_CrystalGem
Age (Optional): 15
Skype name (Optional for the group chat/faction chats): joeyharrigan
Time Zone: EST
Prior Bans and reasons: I’m clean as a whistle.
Define Role-play: When someone acts out a unique or non-unique character that actions and dialogue matches their overall character’s persona.
Define Powergaming: To forces a character’s actions upon another player’s character in RP
Define Metagaming: To use OOC knowledge to your character’s advantage In-Character wise. This could be for example finding out where people are Out of Character and your character miraculous just is in that vicinity for some reason unknown.
Previous roleplay experience: I’ve RP’d on Silvergaming’s The Anerian Chronicles and From the Ashes. I have also RP’d on a RWBY forum and a Steven Universe RP group.
Previous Fallout experience: I have not had any Fallout RP experience, but I have been researching the fallout universe and all of it’s vaults.
Have you read the rules?: Yes I have.
Write any further questions here:
IC:
Character Name: Gabriel Verdin
Age: 26
Gender:
Race: Human and Gabriel a Caucasian- White mix.
Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): Gabriel is 5’8 and is 120 lbs. He is very lean and usually looks really weak. He has a sharp jawline just like his sister and black hair with one strand of blonde in it. He has brown eye and a light, beige skin tone. He has a eye patch over his right eye because he had lost it years ago. He wears a torn green shirt and a dark, red scarf. He wears brown pants and some armor on his shoulders. He also wears an ammo belt and dark black shoes. He bears many scars from years of traveling the desolate wastelands and a holster with no gun on his right side. http://imgur.com/fBcjBhn
Strengths: Gabriel is one heck of a shot and usually is known as a sharpshooter. He’s a very quick on his feet and generally tends to be more of a stealthy person. He’s very protective to people he is close with and that usually only being his twin. He has a high tolerance to pain and usually only feels the pain of not having his sister with him.
Weaknesses: He’s very impulsive when it comes to protecting his sister and that might just get him killed. He’s very paranoid and almost mentally gone to the point of no return. He’s social incapable and scares most people away he meets. He is not strong and usually only can use guns to protect himself. But he also shows no mercy to people who he thinks should be condemned.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L. (Like in the games, you have 40 points to allocate. You must have at least one point in each, and cannot have more than ten.):
Character Biography (Please include at least two quality paragraphs):
Gabriel, twin to Victora, was born to parents Rose and Warren Verdin in the wastelands in Maine. He never got handed much in life because he was just a wastelander and everything he did have he looted or he stole for. His sister and himself had no friends when they were little due to the fact that they were one of the only children that didn’t die of disease, attacks or fatigue. The Verdin twins were as close as any siblings could ever get and that’s all that was needed to make Gabriel happy. He knew his life was going nowhere, but at least him and his sister could be together forever. His father one of the only men in the group to have a gun, helped teach his son the basic knowledge of how to use a gun and make sure not to blow his brains out on accident.
When Gabriel was the age of thirteen him and his family approached a tall, cherry colored barn. Gabriel was uncertain about this new place, but he quickly went to go play “kick the rock” with himself. It all changed in a heartbeat as the barn was shot up and the whole group scattered as they fled. Gabriel was in a complete panic as he searched for his sister to be quickly knocked out by a strong force against the back of his head. When he woke up he was in a camp that he did not recognize, but what really made him anxious was that his twin wasn’t with him. Gabriel worked long days as his captors forced everyone in the camp perform rigorous tasks. Gabriel became more and more anxious without knowing where his twin was to the point where he began to slack work wise. His captors did not take kindly to this and began to inflict physical pain upon him. They started off with just burning cigars in his skin, but as the punishments continued it they became severely worse. After a few days of torture and labor, Gabriel saw someone in the group of slaves that looked like Victoria. He did not pursue her right away, but as he got closer to the girl tears of joy went down his face. Gabriel finally did approach his sister that he had longed to be with again and they continued on as if they had never been separated in the first place. Years went on them being tortured and forced to take part in cruel labor.
When Gabriel was 16, Gabriel saw a chance that would not come around again probably for a while. It was the middle of the night and one of the raiders that was watching the slave’s sleeping quarters was beginning to fall asleep. The slaves and the twins knew this could be their only chance to possibly escape. So as Gabriel stood up from his cot and walked over to the guard, he knew what must be done. Gabriel slowly begin to remove the raider’s gun from his holster and as he did sweat dripped from his face. Everything after that moment was a big blur for Gabriel and before he knew it he had shot the raider in the face. It’s like after that moment his mind just shut off and before he knew it all the slaves were fleeing from the camp, him included. He didn’t know where his sister was because they were separated in the waves of people fleeing from the camp and as he was looking for his sister in the crowd of people he was knocked over. He lay on the ground blood spills from his right eye and he had no clue where his sister was. He blinked as he became more and more tired from blood loss. He eventually blacked out and had no clue if he had died or just been unconscious.
The next day Gabriel woke up in a strange bed and this was not inside of the raiders camp. He looked from the bed to see a woman hovering over him and a big smile planted on her face. Gabriel stared at her before realizing that he could not see out of his right eye and as he touched it he felt nothing but bandages. The woman explained to the boy that she had been one of the slaves that escaped and found Gabriel on the ground. She explained to Gabriel that she had carried him to a near abandoned house and tended to his wounds. He quickly got up and realized that his twin was not with him. He became filled with worry as he paced back and forward. The lady tried to console him, but he just ignored her as he headed to leave the abandoned house. The lady stopped him and explained that he could not go out unarmed. She tried to convince him to stay a while, but Gabriel kept pushing to leave. She finally gave in to the boy leaving, but giving him some supplies she had collected while he was out. Gabriel took the supplies that consisted of a 10mm pistol, 4 rounds and a new attire. After changing into his new outfit and thanking lady, then quickly leaving in search for his sister. He walked for day not knowing where to go to find his sister and as the days went on he began to become paranoid. He would talk to himself by campfires and speak to bones of dead animals he found. Though he was almost to the brink of insanity and thought he never found his sister, he never stops looking for her.
Roleplay Scenario: Time: 3:18 P.M. Location: 14 miles South of Niagara
As you're walking north along a desolate highway when you spot two large black birds circling in the sky in the distance. To the east, large thunderheads loom on the horizon. Hopeful to avoid the storm, you begin to walk a bit more briskly; scanning the area to find shelter from the radioactive downpour. You observe a small light grey smoke plume coming from the median of the highway only a couple hundred meters away. Before approaching the scene, you take a quick look in your bag (below is a list of your items). As you approach the scene, you can see that it is a Merchant Caravan that has been hit, likely by raiders. The merchant lies bloody and beaten to death near a slaughtered Brahman, blood covers his clothing and a box of items is scattered near him. Of the two guards, one lies near a jersey barrier; empty shell casings from her caravan shotgun scattered around her corpse. The other guard is struggling to pull himself upright using the one of the carts wheels, his left leg had been blown off below the shin and is now nothing but a bloody mix of singed skin and asphalt.
Bag contents:
1x 10mm Pistol
4x 10mm Pistol rounds
1x bottle of dirty water
2x Mentants
1x Salisbury steak
1x Squirrel on a stick
1x small radio (functional)
1x Stimpak
1x Half-used first aid kit (missing supplies)
What do you do?:
Gabriel walks the highway to find a blood bath has occurred as he walks toward the merchant’s location. He looks and scouts the area before beginning to look for loot. He stumbles upon the two dying people and gives them a stern look. He approaches the merchant first and begins bend down to search his pockets. The merchant barely able to move only responds to this with one word, “H-help..” Gabriel looks up at him and begins to stand up now looking down at the man. He turns he head to the side as the man look up at Gabriel crying and using his last dying breaths. Gabriel knows their is no hope of saving this man and he sure as hell can use his supplies to fix him up. Gabriel pulls out his gun and holds it to the man's head. "There is no escaping the Shadows of the Old World.” as he says this he puts a round into the man's head and quickly goes back to looting. As he is walking he finds the other guard trying to sit up and this time Gabriel doesn’t even say a word as he puts a round into the guard’s head as well as putting him out of his “misery”.
Skype name (Optional for the group chat/faction chats): lucas.mackay
Time Zone: GMT/Mountain Time
Prior Bans and reasons: Not any that I am aware of or I just forgot about them
Define Role-play: Roleplaying is when you take the role of a character of your choosing and act as that character would.
Define Powergaming: Powergaming is when a character does overpowered things that are not fit for that character and when they force something onto players without their consent.
Define Metagaming: When a player gets information about things that happen in RP through OOC and uses in RP without knowing about it through RP.
Previous roleplay experience: Wild Wasteland, DrakeHeart, and Uthrandir
Previous Fallout experience: I've played both FO3 and NV and have seen videos of the older Fallouts.
Have you read the rules?: There is no escaping the Shadows of the Old World.
IC:
Character Name: Chopper
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Race: Human, Caucasian
Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): He can easily be recognized as some sort of dangerous person that should be avoided by the suspicious looking welding mask that seems to have dried blood striped down it. What makes him a interesting person that would catch the eye of most people is that he wears a vault suit that is armored and a pip-boy on his wrist He stands at 6'2 feet and is well built making him a intimidating looking fellow. Without his welding mask he has messy dark brown hair and tired brownish-green eyes with a rugged beard hugging his face and pale looking skin.
Strengths: He is very proficient with melee weapons mainly things like machetes and axes (hence the name Chopper since he uses weapons that chop things up), has great strength from using melee weapons to fight which has helped him build up muscle, has good endurance and stamina and can be a very clever and intimidating person because of his height.
Weaknesses: Firearms, though they aren't a big weakness of his he still isn't the best shot with a gun, but will usually get a few rounds into somebody, he's hard headed and doesn't like it when people get in his way or when they tell him what to do and thinks to highly of himself at times.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L. (Like in the games, you have 40 points to allocate. You must have at least one point in each, and cannot have more than ten.):
Strength: 7
Perception: 5
Endurance: 6
Charisma: 6
Intelligence: 6
Agility: 5
Luck: 5
Character Biography (Please include at least two quality paragraphs):
Known as Chopper, a name given to him by his peers because of his use of axes and machetes over firearms to defend himself and killing his victims. Born in Iowa in the "safety" of one of the states many vaults and emerged from the vault with the rest of the dwellers who then explored the wastes keeping the vault and the surrounding area of it as their home. Known well his superiority with sharp melee weapons he helped the gang of raiders fend for themselves and assisted Clover the leader of the gang with certain tasks. He's an alcoholic and uses Psycho from time to time when he really needs it. Chopper grew up in a place that wasn't the best influence on his life. Though it has made him the man he is today and from what he has learned from the vault's supply of books has made him a knowledgeable person and a clever person.
Chopper was chosen by Clover to help him travel the wastes that were unknown them and scout the areas. He learned new tips and tricks about the wastes from Clover like things not to to do and things he should do. Since he was a quick learner he soon was able to use these things to his advantage in situations and use not only force, but his words as well to manipulate people though he still prefers to use force to do things like that.
Though out of all the things Chopper learned one was that firearms were not his strong suit. He still hopes he'll get better at it so he doesn't end up with a bullet in his head. Soon enough he found himself once again travelling past the wastes of Iowa through Illinois towards the Niagara Wasteland with Clover to scout out the area and see what's in store for them.
After
Roleplay Scenario: Time: 3:18 P.M. Location: 14 miles South of Niagara
As you're walking north along a desolate highway when you spot two large black birds circling in the sky in the distance. To the east, large thunderheads loom on the horizon. Hopeful to avoid the storm, you begin to walk a bit more briskly; scanning the area to find shelter from the radioactive downpour. You observe a small light grey smoke plume coming from the median of the highway only a couple hundred meters away. Before approaching the scene, you take a quick look in your bag (below is a list of your items). As you approach the scene, you can see that it is a Merchant Caravan that has been hit, likely by raiders. The merchant lies bloody and beaten to death near a slaughtered Brahman, blood covers his clothing and a box of items is scattered near him. Of the two guards, one lies near a jersey barrier; empty shell casings from her caravan shotgun scattered around her corpse. The other guard is struggling to pull himself upright using the one of the carts wheels, his left leg had been blown off below the shin and is now nothing but a bloody mix of singed skin and asphalt.
Bag contents:
1x 10mm Pistol
4x 10mm Pistol rounds
1x bottle of dirty water
2x Mentants
1x Salisbury steak
1x Squirrel on a stick
1x small radio (functional)
1x Stimpak
1x Half-used first aid kit (missing supplies)
What do you do?: Chopper smirks through his mask and casually strolled toward the big mess and reaching for his pistol in his holster as the storm continued to grow closer to his location. As he reaches the raided caravan he notices the one guard struggling to get up and chuckles and says "Looks like you're in quite the crappy situation my good sir." the guard replies with a pained look on his face "N-No crap..." as he collapses back onto the ground. "You really don't seem to have any other hope here sir, there's a storm coming and you're bleeding out..." Chopper says as he begins to loot the remaining supplies from the caravan "Maybe you could le-!" before he guard finishes his complaining he's cut off by the sound of Chopper's pistol through his head. Chopper holsters his firearm and watches blood drip from the man's head onto the asphalt painting it red before putting it away sighing. Before he leaves the scene he turns back to the slumped corpse of the guard and replies "Sorry I just don't help someone who's already dead." and continues down the road towards Niagara whistling a tone as the sounds of thunder grow stronger.
Skype name (Optional for the group chat/faction chats):
Time Zone: NDT
Prior Bans and reasons: Most Recently- Trolling/Being Silly – Because I was very bored and tried to fix that in a very stupid way.
Define Role-play: Acting, immersing yourself into a world as a character and having that character act just as a real person would in a real world(Fear death even though you know in real life you can just respawn, have their ears hurt from a loud noise even though you in your computer chair just had to turn the volume down a bit are examples of Role-Playing while using a video game as a platform.)
Define Powergaming: Forcing an action and a reaction to occur in Role-Play, (*fires rifle and kills assailaint instantly* as opposed to *fires the rifle aimed at his opponent*)Even if the outcome you state is likely, it is not your job to roleplay the reaction to your action, that is the other player’s responsibility. You could also associate Powergaming with simply being ridiculously overpowered like surviving something that you couldn’t possibly survive.
Define Metagaming: Having your character know what you know – using OOC information IC.
Previous roleplay experience: I’ve played on servers like these before but not in a while, I’d bet my money that I’m really rusty right now which is why I want to get back into it.
Previous Fallout experience: The first game I played was Fallout 3, I had really fell in love with the lore and the wiki by Fallout: New Vegas, many of the RP servers I’ve played on have been Fallout-themed.
Have you read the rules?: Yes
Write any further questions here:
There is no escaping the shadows of the old world.
IC:
Character Name: Frederic Withers
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Race: Caucasoid/White
Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): 5ft and 11 inches in height, at the top of his thin body; a gaunt neck holding up a head of greasy black hair. He has restless blue eyes with bags under them divided by a thin nose. He has dirt, inflamed areas and scabs covering parts of his body.
Strengths: Experienced in repairing makeshift armors and scrap shacks. Knows how to operate most small guns and rifles, but doesn’t have the best long range aim making him best with personal defense weapons.
Weaknesses: Fred has lived his life suffering from vitamin deficiency, giving him weak bones that hurt easily if he puts too much pressure on his legs, making running more taxing, this combined with little muscle makes him an awful candidate for melee combat. He has lost some patches of skin from radiation poisoning, and is prone to vomiting from his radiation sickness. His appearance makes him look like he is addicted to the worst of chems, but fact is he’s just disease-ridden.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L. (Like in the games, you have 40 points to allocate. You must have at least one point in each, and cannot have more than ten.):
Strength: 3
Perception: 5
Endurance: 3
Charisma: 6
Intelligence: 7
Agility: 8
Luck: 8
Character Biography (Please include at least two quality paragraphs):
Fred was born in early 2248 south of the ruins of Ottawa, Canada. His mother was the leader of a group of traveling wasters. But Fred’s first memories were of a town that he grew up in, a collection of people holding their own against the wastes in the ruins of Watertown, USA. He spent his youth working on maintaining and creating shacks composed of scrap metal in the settlement with his mother. By age twenty, he’d learned how to use more basic forging tools like the blowtorch and developed a hobby of repairing traveler’s armor in exchange for supplies.
When his mother passed from unidentified disease in 2274, Fred left the now poverty-stricken town and headed north-east, taking his belongings with him and partnering with a tougher, more experienced local named Merrick. Fred and Merrick traveled the wastes, Fred handled the sales and Merrick was responsible for security. In 2275 the two repaired ancient gladiator masks for an ice-gang and helped them navigate their way through the black river.
After a year of dodging raiders and arduous haggling, the two had gained another guard, and a pack Brahmin. They considered themselves wealthy enough to cash in for a bit, and look at a more permanent home and business. The two returned to Watertown in late 2275, finding a shell of what used to be considered sanctuary from the horrors of the wasteland. Fred and Merrick bickered about whether they should stay there for the night. Fred assured him that his home town wouldn’t cross him, and so the two rested in the town for the night, exchanging food for shelter. When Fred awoke, he found his partner gone, exiting the bunkhouse to see his pack Brahmin and guard gone as well. He asked the gate guard what happened, and was told that his caravan guard had stolen the Brahmin with some locals, and that his partner left looking for them.
Fred waited a week, getting back in touch with some childhood friends, but many of the people he’d knew had left. He helped the town ward off a small raider attack, somewhat regretting leaving his home town in its time of need almost two years ago. Growing impatient, Fred left the settlement and searched the ruins of Watertown, after a few hours he stumbled upon the body of the traitorous caravan guard, and a local from the settlement, bloody craters in their chests from a shotgun, but no sign of the Brahmin, or Merrick. Fred searched until dark, returning to the town, confused. He was unsure whether he’d been conned by his business partner for all he was worth, or got a close friend killed by making a bad call.
Fred rejoined the settlement and lived there for most of 2276, he tried to help the settlement out by trading with travelers, but sometimes the greedy merchant side of him outshined the good; and he would stash food for himself in case he needed to leave. Over the year the raider attacks became worse, caravans stopped coming to the settlement despite the attraction Fred tried to create. Many left the settlement, less than a dozen wasters remained. One day, a band of slavers rolled into town, and took the young, killing those who fought back and leaving the old. Fred fled the settlement without getting to his supplies, knowing being a hero would only get him killed.
Now in 2277, Fred wanders the wastes trying to find a new town, living off the land and trading with those he deems safe to approach.
Roleplay Scenario: Time: 3:18 P.M. Location: 14 miles South of Niagara
As you're walking north along a desolate highway when you spot two large black birds circling in the sky in the distance. To the east, large thunderheads loom on the horizon. Hopeful to avoid the storm, you begin to walk a bit more briskly; scanning the area to find shelter from the radioactive downpour. You observe a small light grey smoke plume coming from the median of the highway only a couple hundred meters away. Before approaching the scene, you take a quick look in your bag (below is a list of your items). As you approach the scene, you can see that it is a Merchant Caravan that has been hit, likely by raiders. The merchant lies bloody and beaten to death near a slaughtered Brahman, blood covers his clothing and a box of items is scattered near him. Of the two guards, one lies near a jersey barrier; empty shell casings from her caravan shotgun scattered around her corpse. The other guard is struggling to pull himself upright using the one of the carts wheels, his left leg had been blown off below the shin and is now nothing but a bloody mix of singed skin and asphalt.
Bag contents:
1x 10mm Pistol
4x 10mm Pistol rounds
1x bottle of dirty water
2x Mentants
1x Salisbury steak
1x Squirrel on a stick
1x small radio (functional)
1x Stimpak
1x Half-used first aid kit (missing supplies)
What do you do?:
Fred approaches the surviving guard, kneeling down and helping the guard sit against the cart instead of foolishly trying to walk. “Where were you headed?” “The Falls, to the north” Replies the guard, stumbling over his own words. Fred takes off his belt and goes to wrap it above the Guard’s stump “I think you’re supposed to put pressure on it or something.” “Help me, please.” Says the guard, grabbing Fred’s arm, breathing heavily. “Your foot is pretty mezzed, man. Your caravan did they come from anywhere near here?” “Help me, please you’ve got to.” Fred sighs, standing up and looking down at the miserable man, then looking to the eastern skies. Fred opens his bag, looking at the little pistol rounds he had left, hesitantly closing the bag. “There’s nothing I can do.” Fred said, frowning and turning to search the caravan as the man whaled, but the good were picked clean by attackers. Fred walked off the road and to the north-west, hoping to avoid whoever attacked the caravan, escape the storm, and find shelter. The black birds still looming over the sacked caravan.
OOC:
IGN: FrothedMilk
Age (Optional): 15
Skype name (Optional for the group chat/faction chats):
Time Zone: NDT
Prior Bans and reasons: Most Recently- Trolling/Being Silly – Because I was very bored and tried to fix that in a very stupid way.
Define Role-play: Acting, immersing yourself into a world as a character and having that character act just as a real person would in a real world(Fear death even though you know in real life you can just respawn, have their ears hurt from a loud noise even though you in your computer chair just had to turn the volume down a bit are examples of Role-Playing while using a video game as a platform.)
Define Powergaming: Forcing an action and a reaction to occur in Role-Play, (*fires rifle and kills assailaint instantly* as opposed to *fires the rifle aimed at his opponent*)Even if the outcome you state is likely, it is not your job to roleplay the reaction to your action, that is the other player’s responsibility. You could also associate Powergaming with simply being ridiculously overpowered like surviving something that you couldn’t possibly survive.
Define Metagaming: Having your character know what you know – using OOC information IC.
Previous roleplay experience: I’ve played on servers like these before but not in a while, I’d bet my money that I’m really rusty right now which is why I want to get back into it.
Previous Fallout experience: The first game I played was Fallout 3, I had really fell in love with the lore and the wiki by Fallout: New Vegas, many of the RP servers I’ve played on have been Fallout-themed.
Have you read the rules?: Yes
Write any further questions here:
There is no escaping the shadows of the old world.
IC:
Character Name: Frederic Withers
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Race: Caucasoid/White
Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): 5ft and 11 inches in height, at the top of his thin body; a gaunt neck holding up a head of greasy black hair. He has restless blue eyes with bags under them divided by a thin nose. He has dirt, inflamed areas and scabs covering parts of his body.
Strengths: Experienced in repairing makeshift armors and scrap shacks. Knows how to operate most small guns and rifles, but doesn’t have the best long range aim making him best with personal defense weapons.
Weaknesses: Fred has lived his life suffering from vitamin deficiency, giving him weak bones that hurt easily if he puts too much pressure on his legs, making running more taxing, this combined with little muscle makes him an awful candidate for melee combat. He has lost some patches of skin from radiation poisoning, and is prone to vomiting from his radiation sickness. His appearance makes him look like he is addicted to the worst of chems, but fact is he’s just disease-ridden.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L. (Like in the games, you have 40 points to allocate. You must have at least one point in each, and cannot have more than ten.):
Strength: 3
Perception: 5
Endurance: 3
Charisma: 6
Intelligence: 7
Agility: 8
Luck: 8
Character Biography (Please include at least two quality paragraphs):
Fred was born in early 2248 south of the ruins of Ottawa, Canada. His mother was the leader of a group of traveling wasters. But Fred’s first memories were of a town that he grew up in, a collection of people holding their own against the wastes in the ruins of Watertown, USA. He spent his youth working on maintaining and creating shacks composed of scrap metal in the settlement with his mother. By age twenty, he’d learned how to use more basic forging tools like the blowtorch and developed a hobby of repairing traveler’s armor in exchange for supplies.
When his mother passed from unidentified disease in 2274, Fred left the now poverty-stricken town and headed north-east, taking his belongings with him and partnering with a tougher, more experienced local named Merrick. Fred and Merrick traveled the wastes, Fred handled the sales and Merrick was responsible for security. In 2275 the two repaired ancient gladiator masks for an ice-gang and helped them navigate their way through the black river.
After a year of dodging raiders and arduous haggling, the two had gained another guard, and a pack Brahmin. They considered themselves wealthy enough to cash in for a bit, and look at a more permanent home and business. The two returned to Watertown in late 2275, finding a shell of what used to be considered sanctuary from the horrors of the wasteland. Fred and Merrick bickered about whether they should stay there for the night. Fred assured him that his home town wouldn’t cross him, and so the two rested in the town for the night, exchanging food for shelter. When Fred awoke, he found his partner gone, exiting the bunkhouse to see his pack Brahmin and guard gone as well. He asked the gate guard what happened, and was told that his caravan guard had stolen the Brahmin with some locals, and that his partner left looking for them.
Fred waited a week, getting back in touch with some childhood friends, but many of the people he’d knew had left. He helped the town ward off a small raider attack, somewhat regretting leaving his home town in its time of need almost two years ago. Growing impatient, Fred left the settlement and searched the ruins of Watertown, after a few hours he stumbled upon the body of the traitorous caravan guard, and a local from the settlement, bloody craters in their chests from a shotgun, but no sign of the Brahmin, or Merrick. Fred searched until dark, returning to the town, confused. He was unsure whether he’d been conned by his business partner for all he was worth, or got a close friend killed by making a bad call.
Fred rejoined the settlement and lived there for most of 2276, he tried to help the settlement out by trading with travelers, but sometimes the greedy merchant side of him outshined the good; and he would stash food for himself in case he needed to leave. Over the year the raider attacks became worse, caravans stopped coming to the settlement despite the attraction Fred tried to create. Many left the settlement, less than a dozen wasters remained. One day, a band of slavers rolled into town, and took the young, killing those who fought back and leaving the old. Fred fled the settlement without getting to his supplies, knowing being a hero would only get him killed.
Now in 2277, Fred wanders the wastes trying to find a new town, living off the land and trading with those he deems safe to approach.
Roleplay Scenario: Time: 3:18 P.M. Location: 14 miles South of Niagara
As you're walking north along a desolate highway when you spot two large black birds circling in the sky in the distance. To the east, large thunderheads loom on the horizon. Hopeful to avoid the storm, you begin to walk a bit more briskly; scanning the area to find shelter from the radioactive downpour. You observe a small light grey smoke plume coming from the median of the highway only a couple hundred meters away. Before approaching the scene, you take a quick look in your bag (below is a list of your items). As you approach the scene, you can see that it is a Merchant Caravan that has been hit, likely by raiders. The merchant lies bloody and beaten to death near a slaughtered Brahman, blood covers his clothing and a box of items is scattered near him. Of the two guards, one lies near a jersey barrier; empty shell casings from her caravan shotgun scattered around her corpse. The other guard is struggling to pull himself upright using the one of the carts wheels, his left leg had been blown off below the shin and is now nothing but a bloody mix of singed skin and asphalt.
Bag contents:
1x 10mm Pistol
4x 10mm Pistol rounds
1x bottle of dirty water
2x Mentants
1x Salisbury steak
1x Squirrel on a stick
1x small radio (functional)
1x Stimpak
1x Half-used first aid kit (missing supplies)
What do you do?:
Fred approaches the surviving guard, kneeling down and helping the guard sit against the cart instead of foolishly trying to walk. “Where were you headed?” “The Falls, to the north” Replies the guard, stumbling over his own words. Fred takes off his belt and goes to wrap it above the Guard’s stump “I think you’re supposed to put pressure on it or something.” “Help me, please.” Says the guard, grabbing Fred’s arm, breathing heavily. “Your foot is pretty mezzed, man. Your caravan did they come from anywhere near here?” “Help me, please you’ve got to.” Fred sighs, standing up and looking down at the miserable man, then looking to the eastern skies. Fred opens his bag, looking at the little pistol rounds he had left, hesitantly closing the bag. “There’s nothing I can do.” Fred said, frowning and turning to search the caravan as the man whaled, but the good were picked clean by attackers. Fred walked off the road and to the north-west, hoping to avoid whoever attacked the caravan, escape the storm, and find shelter. The black birds still looming over the sacked caravan.
Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): A grotesquely disfigured ghoul with the majority of his jaw exposed due to the flesh having flaked away long ago. He typically wears a wig of some sort over his head in an attempt to keep the rest of the balding rotted flesh concealed.
Strengths: A quick thinker with a silver tongue, along with years of experience both of life before and after the great war. A decent shot leftover from his Pre-War military days.
Weaknesses: Easy to flying off the handle, he does not take well to being called a Zombie, or even having the slightest of comments made about his appearance, aside from those whom he already tolerates. His muscles and bones have long since been ravaged by both the course of time and his ghoulification, leaving him physically weakened.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L. (Like in the games, you have 40 points to allocate. You must have at least one point in each, and cannot have more than ten.):
Strength: 3
Perception: 7
Endurance: 5
Charisma: 6
Intelligence: 7
Agility: 6
Luck: 7
Character Biography (Please include at least two quality paragraphs):
Born in 2042, Harvey lived an average life in Pre-War America. Going to school, getting married and eventually joining the US Military in the Army when he was 24 years old. He served for nearly a decade before he was sent to the warfront in Alaska to fight off the chinese invasion in Anchorage. As the war progressed, he found himself rising through the ranks, less through any real skill or through earning it, rather being pushed into new positions as his immediate superiors were killed in the line of duty. This trend continued until the near end of the reclamation of Anchorage, which is when he was hastily promoted to the rank of Captain. After the Chinese forces were pushed back, he spent the next few months in an army camp outside of Anchorage while waiting for his discharge papers for him to head home, they were set to arrive and be ready for pickup at 5:00PM October 23rd, 2077.
When he went to pick up his discharge papers, he only heard the sirens for a moment before the intense blast of heat and light blinded him briefly as he felt the blood beneath his skin boiling from the blast before everything went dark. When he came to, everything around him was in flames, buildings collapsing as explosions continued to echo through the streets nothing but piles of ash, rubble and bones littering the ground. Much of his body felt strange, his skin began to peel after a few hours much like a bad sunburn, however after the first day in what he could only imagine to be hell, his skin began peeling off to the muscle, it slowly gaining a sickly pale tint as tuffs of hair fell from his skull. As the days went on he saw other people, however they did not seem to be people at all, amongst the ruins he found those who seemed like walking corpses, unable to speak or reason, they simply groaned in pain, wandering aimlessly in the streets, sewers and ruined buildings. He thought to himself that this must be hell, he had to of died, for what else could this be? As days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years, and years to decades he watched the world slowly change. The ruins of the old-world became covered in thick blankets of black snow and ice mixed with soot for decades.
He took to traveling away from Anchorage, exploring other parts of the wastes for nearly fifty years. In this time he began finding others, some like himself, mutated creatures beyond salvation and after many years finally, humans. He was both relieved and saddened by this, while humanity survived, he was shunned and seen as yet another mutant and as a result he became bitter. He started viewing most of the smoothskins as bigoted ingrates, especially those who deemed him a “Zombie”. Deciding to educate them on what actual zombies were, he embraced it. He took to covering his teeth with toxic and poisonous materials so they could see what happens when they are bitten by a zombie. He continued to roam the wastes, becoming callous and cold to the hell that he resides in, killing those he needed to in order to survive and not caring in the slightest. He spent many decades using his pre-war military know how to act as a mercenary, providing protection to caravans traveling through less than healthy environments.
As the years went on, the effects of age as well as the necrosis began to take their toll. His muscles began to weaken and his bones began to ache, causing him difficulty in continuing his mercenary work. He decided instead to follow through with an older dream, that of business, of being entrepreneur. He went from town to town, scamming people out of their caps for no reason other than to make a profit. After saving up enough, he decided that gambling, whoring and promoting other vices was one of the more profitable, and often safest paths of business to take. After hearing rumors of a series of settlements nestled away in the Niagara region, he set out to leave his mark on this backwater crater on the map.
Roleplay Scenario: Time: 3:18 P.M. Location: 14 miles South of Niagara
As you're walking north along a desolate highway when you spot two large black birds circling in the sky in the distance. To the east, large thunderheads loom on the horizon. Hopeful to avoid the storm, you begin to walk a bit more briskly; scanning the area to find shelter from the radioactive downpour. You observe a small light grey smoke plume coming from the median of the highway only a couple hundred meters away. Before approaching the scene, you take a quick look in your bag (below is a list of your items). As you approach the scene, you can see that it is a Merchant Caravan that has been hit, likely by raiders. The merchant lies bloody and beaten to death near a slaughtered Brahman, blood covers his clothing and a box of items is scattered near him. Of the two guards, one lies near a jersey barrier; empty shell casings from her caravan shotgun scattered around her corpse. The other guard is struggling to pull himself upright using the one of the carts wheels, his left leg had been blown off below the shin and is now nothing but a bloody mix of singed skin and asphalt.
Bag contents:
1x 10mm Pistol
4x 10mm Pistol rounds
1x bottle of dirty water
2x Mentants
1x Salisbury steak
1x Squirrel on a stick
1x small radio (functional)
1x Stimpak
1x Half-used first aid kit (missing supplies)
What do you do?: (Other than saying There is no escaping the Shadows of the Old World?)
Harvey approaches with a slight brow raised, dusting off the shoulder of his suit and straightening his tie, he glances down at the injured guard “Well kid, looks like you’re a tad ed eh? Oh well, not like there is any point in wasting supplies on you anyways, you’ll just be killed in a week by some other chuckle anyways. Sorry all the same kid, life’s a unless you aren't one yourself.” He says with a tired shrug, stepping past the man briskly without a word to rummage through the boxes, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one, raising it to his mouth before blowing out a breath of smoke "I would offer to just put you out of your misery smoothskin, but honestly ammo is not common enough to just waste on euthanasia, and quite frankly I do not care to help that much either way." He says with a drawn out sigh, tapping some of the ashes from the cigarette onto the ground with his forefinger before tossing it over towards the man, allowing it to let a small plume of smoke rise from it in front of him. "Take care kid, or don't. No real difference anyways." And with that his tips his hat curtly at the mutilated figure before making his way down the road.
Please read the actual post, the formatting got goofed up
Once again you haven't I inquired on your past bans drom different servers and the skin is just a bit worse. Now I'd be fine with the skin if you cast off the robes and put him in some regular clothing like some old shirt and pants, avoid using 2x2 eyes and that's it. As of now you are...
Okay so, I've got some quite mixed feelings regardinf this application because on one hand it meets my requirements but at rhe same time it appears as if your character is "evil just to be evil", regarding how he'd steal and shoot people with little to no care regarding such. Yes I understand that there are some other characters out there that seem like so but those are mainly trusted players already known by the community, I mean I'm willing to let that go but t that stacked up ontop of the skin gived me mixed feelings. Now I don't hage anything against you, just all I want you to do is cast off the 2x2 eyds and give your character a more wastelandish look, now if you hot questions just add me on Skype and my names is Spawnfan55, though all I really want you to do is tidy up on the skin and clarify more about why character is that way, though as of now you are...
IGN:Pearl_CrystalGem
Age (Optional): 15
Skype name (Optional for the group chat/faction chats): joeyharrigan
Time Zone: EST
Prior Bans and reasons: I’m clean as a whistle.
Define Role-play: When someone acts out a unique or non-unique character that actions and dialogue matches their overall character’s persona.
Define Powergaming: To forces a character’s actions upon another player’s character in RP
Define Metagaming: To use OOC knowledge to your character’s advantage In-Character wise. This could be for example finding out where people are Out of Character and your character miraculous just is in that vicinity for some reason unknown.
Previous roleplay experience: I’ve RP’d on Silvergaming’s The Anerian Chronicles and From the Ashes. I have also RP’d on a RWBY forum and a Steven Universe RP group.
Previous Fallout experience: I have not had any Fallout RP experience, but I have been researching the fallout universe and all of it’s vaults.
Have you read the rules?: Yes I have.
Write any further questions here:
IC:
Character Name: Gabriel Verdin
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Race: Human and Gabriel a Caucasian- White mix.
Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): Gabriel is 5’8 and is 120 lbs. He is very lean and usually looks really weak. He has a sharp jawline just like his sister and black hair with one strand of blonde in it. He has brown eye and a light, beige skin tone. He has a eye patch over his right eye because he had lost it years ago. He has a shoul over his mouth and a brown overcoat. He wears a faded green under shirt and black, ripped pants. He wears a pair of worn out shoes he found in the wastelands.
Strengths: Gabriel is one heck of a shot and though he has no depth perception, he has practice to enough to get over his “Disability”. He’s a very quick on his feet and generally tends to be more of a stealthy person. He’s very protective to people he is close with and that usually only being his twin. He has a high tolerance to pain and usually only feels the pain of not having his sister with him.
Weaknesses: He’s very impulsive when it comes to protecting his sister and that might just get him killed. He’s very paranoid and almost mentally gone to the point of no return. He’s social incapable and scares most people away he meets. He is not strong and usually only can use guns to protect himself. But he also shows no mercy to people who he thinks should be condemned.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L. (Like in the games, you have 40 points to allocate. You must have at least one point in each, and cannot have more than ten.):
Character Biography (Please include at least two quality paragraphs):
Gabriel, twin to Victora, was born to parents Rose and Warren Verdin in the wastelands in Maine. He never got handed much in life because he was just a wastelander and everything he did have he looted or he stole for. His sister and himself had no friends when they were little due to the fact that they were one of the only children that didn’t die of disease, attacks or fatigue. The Verdin twins were as close as any siblings could ever get and that’s all that was needed to make Gabriel happy. He knew his life was going nowhere, but at least him and his sister could be together forever. His father one of the only men in the group to have a gun, helped teach his son the basic knowledge of how to use a gun and make sure not to blow his brains out on accident.
When Gabriel was the age of thirteen him and his family approached a tall, cherry colored barn. Gabriel was uncertain about this new place, but he quickly went to go play “kick the rock” with himself. It all changed in a heartbeat as the barn was shot up and the whole group scattered as they fled. Gabriel was in a complete panic as he searched for his sister to be quickly knocked out by a strong force against the back of his head. When he woke up he was in a camp that he did not recognize, but what really made him anxious was that his twin wasn’t with him. Gabriel worked long days as his captors forced everyone in the camp perform rigorous tasks. Gabriel became more and more anxious without knowing where his twin was to the point where he began to slack work wise. His captors did not take kindly to this and began to inflict physical pain upon him. They started off with just burning cigars in his skin, but as the punishments continued it they became severely worse. After a few days of torture and labor, Gabriel saw someone in the group of slaves that looked like Victoria. He did not pursue her right away, but as he got closer to the girl tears of joy went down his face. Gabriel finally did approach his sister that he had longed to be with again and they continued on as if they had never been separated in the first place. Years went on them being tortured and forced to take part in cruel labor.
When Gabriel was 16, Gabriel saw a chance that would not come around again probably for a while. It was the middle of the night and one of the raiders that was watching the slave’s sleeping quarters was beginning to fall asleep. The slaves and the twins knew this could be their only chance to possibly escape. So as Gabriel stood up from his cot and walked over to the guard, he knew what must be done. Gabriel slowly begin to remove the raider’s gun from his holster and as he did sweat dripped from his face. Everything after that moment was a big blur for Gabriel and before he knew it he had shot the raider in the face. It’s like after that moment his mind just shut off and before he knew it all the slaves were fleeing from the camp, him included. He didn’t know where his sister was because they were separated in the waves of people fleeing from the camp and as he was looking for his sister in the crowd of people he was knocked over. He lay on the ground blood spills from his right eye and he had no clue where his sister was. He blinked as he became more and more tired from blood loss. He eventually blacked out and had no clue if he had died or just been unconscious.
The next day Gabriel woke up in a strange bed and this was not inside of the raiders camp. He looked from the bed to see a woman hovering over him and a big smile planted on her face. Gabriel stared at her before realizing that he could not see out of his right eye and as he touched it he felt nothing but bandages. The woman explained to the boy that she had been one of the slaves that escaped and found Gabriel on the ground. She explained to Gabriel that she had carried him to a near abandoned house and tended to his wounds. He quickly got up and realized that his twin was not with him. He became filled with worry as he paced back and forward. The lady tried to console him, but he just ignored her as he headed to leave the abandoned house. The lady stopped him and explained that he could not go out unarmed. She tried to convince him to stay a while, but Gabriel kept pushing to leave. She finally gave in to the boy leaving, but giving him some supplies she had collected while he was out. Gabriel took the supplies that consisted of a 10mm pistol, 4 rounds and a new attire. After changing into his new outfit and thanking lady, then quickly leaving in search for his sister. He walked for day not knowing where to go to find his sister and as the days went on he began to become paranoid. He would talk to himself by campfires and speak to bones of dead animals he found. Though he was almost to the brink of insanity and thought he never found his sister, he never stops looking for her.
Roleplay Scenario: Time: 3:18 P.M. Location: 14 miles South of Niagara
As you're walking north along a desolate highway when you spot two large black birds circling in the sky in the distance. To the east, large thunderheads loom on the horizon. Hopeful to avoid the storm, you begin to walk a bit more briskly; scanning the area to find shelter from the radioactive downpour. You observe a small light grey smoke plume coming from the median of the highway only a couple hundred meters away. Before approaching the scene, you take a quick look in your bag (below is a list of your items). As you approach the scene, you can see that it is a Merchant Caravan that has been hit, likely by raiders. The merchant lies bloody and beaten to death near a slaughtered Brahman, blood covers his clothing and a box of items is scattered near him. Of the two guards, one lies near a jersey barrier; empty shell casings from her caravan shotgun scattered around her corpse. The other guard is struggling to pull himself upright using the one of the carts wheels, his left leg had been blown off below the shin and is now nothing but a bloody mix of singed skin and asphalt.
Bag contents:
1x 10mm Pistol
4x 10mm Pistol rounds
1x bottle of dirty water
2x Mentants
1x Salisbury steak
1x Squirrel on a stick
1x small radio (functional)
1x Stimpak
1x Half-used first aid kit (missing supplies)
What do you do?:
Gabriel walks the highway to find a blood bath has occurred as he walks toward the merchant’s location. He looks and scouts the area before beginning to look for loot. He stumbles upon the two dying people and gives them a stern look. He approaches the merchant first and begins bend down to search his pockets. The merchant barely able to move only responds to this with one word, “H-help..” Gabriel looks up at him and begins to stand up now looking down at the man. He turns he head to the side as the man look up at Gabriel crying and using his last dying breaths. Gabriel knows their is no hope of saving this man and he sure as hell can use his supplies to fix him up. Gabriel pulls out his gun and holds it to the man's head. “I wish you well,” as he says this he puts a round into the man's head and quickly goes back to looting. As he is walking he finds the other guard trying to sit up and this time Gabriel doesn’t even say a word as he puts a round into the guard’s head as well putting him out of his “misery”.
Skype name (Optional for the group chat/faction chats): grz_art
Time Zone: EST
Prior Bans and reasons: None
Define Role-play: Roleplay is art with words, storytelling with multiple authors, from the vantage of characters within the story. It is not a novel written by one man, but a real interaction between people as they become the characters they have created. Hippie jargon-filled nonsense aside, it’s a game where you are playing from the vantage of a character entirely; not as yourself, but with the reactions and emotions of a well-developed character, as you progress through their life and story.
Define Powergaming: Powergaming, if RP terminology hasn’t changed in the last 5 years, is when in a given situation your character is somehow over- or all- powered. Able to do things that, realistically, would not be able to happen.
Define Metagaming: Metagaming is when, IC, a character behaves with knowledge they cannot know, but that is known by the player or author, OOC. It is being untrue to the development of the character.
Previous roleplay experience: Good God, man. Let’s see. I ran a Fallout Minecraft server back in the day. Called it Old World Blues. Guess there’s no escaping the shadows of the old world, huh? Anyway, I’ve also ran and participated in Forum based RP for many, many years. Like, since I was 13. Been a member of Roleplayer’s Guild and Coloholics Anonymous but always preferred more specific RPs. I’m pretty sure before I went awol I did some RPs on these forums too.
Previous Fallout experience: I’ve played Fallout NV and a little bit of Fallout 3, but I’ve read pretty much every fallout wiki article at least once. I love the Fallout backstory and lore, and Fallout is one of my favorite fandoms like ever.
Have you read the rules?: Yes. Through and through.
Write any further questions here: Is it dumb to submit this when it’s closing Oct 3? D:
IC:
Character Name: Leslie Dobbs
Age: 15
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): Leslie is a short but slender girl, with light skin, long, brown hair, and brown eyes.
Strengths: Leslie is incredibly gifted anatomy, virtually memorizing its entire layout and able to aid the body’s healing and ease pain; or, if need be, inflict it in great amounts. Being small, she is also rather agile.
Weaknesses: Leslie is small and weaker, so not of too much use in an actual, drawn out fight. She is also rather inept socially, thanks to her upbringing, and sometimes has epilepsy-like spasms and fits of craziness. All that’s explained, though, I promise it isn’t random.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L.:
Strength: 3
Perception: 7
Endurance: 3
Charisma: 7
Intelligence: 9
Agility: 7
Luck: 4
Character Biography (Please include at least two quality paragraphs):
All Leslie had ever known, was the vault. Its creaks and groans from wear and tear, its long, echoey hallways, the comforts of its enclosing walls. It was always home.
There was so much about the vault that Leslie loved growing up. She loved the people, always so nice to her. She loved the music that would come over the intercom sometimes. She loved to scavenge for old holotapes and listen to what the world before the vaut was like. She loved to explore all the hidden and forgotten rooms of the vault. She loved to go to the engineering rooms and study them, figure out how they worked. She loved to play with the old computers and make them do funny things around the vault, like activate sprinkles or close doors. And the food, by goodness she loved the food that they would whip up. Sometimes they would have steak, sometimes they would have hamburgers, even. Whatever it was, she knew it was going to be tasty and have meat, and she loved to eat.
But one day she made a mistake, and even though her parents tried to hide and lie about it to her, she always knew. One day she was having a quite delicious order of ham and green beans, when she asked her parents aloud, “So where does all the ham come from?”
Every single person in the room stopped and stared. She heard a young boy snicker, and his father hit him when he did. One of the ladies in the mess hall gave Leslie’s parents an awful glare. It was very clear to everyone that the question should not have been asked.
Her parents tried to make up all sorts of excuses and stories, but Leslie knew. On some level, she had always known. She knew there was no room where plants were grown, no room where animals were kept. There was only the freezer, and she knew that there was no way that the small freezer and storage held enough food for all these years. She had even heard a holotape once explaining how the animals were dying and they didn’t know what to do next. She even knew, even then, that it sort of explained The Crazies that the people sometimes got after eating. What she didn’t know, was how they chose which people to eat.
When she got older, and the stigma of cannibalism was removed, it was revealed to her that there was a drawing. Apparently the drawing was every six months, and several names were drawn. The kitchen would then be responsible for making those people last as long as possible before another name had to be drawn. Once she was older, this was more of a normal occurrence. The children were kept from the idea because it was still thought to be traumatc to some degree, but just like sex, it had to be talked about at some point. And so it became a normal thing. Sometimes people would disappear and everyone would understand their sacrifice. Some tried to forget, but most thanked God in their prayers that they were given more food and more life to live. The few for the many.
Then, one day, the vault opened.
Imagine the hysteria. Scouts came back with stories of plentiful amouns of the things people are supposed to eat; crops and animals. Immediately the vault was divided. Enter this brave new world and find new food sources, or stay here and eat their brethren. Many decided to leave the vault, but those who stayed faced a terrible fate.
No longer was cannibalism a sacrifice neccisary for survival, but a pleasure too deep to forfeit. Pro-cannibals swarmed the Overseers office and the kitchen, and they reveled in their feasts. Abductions were no longer quiet, but open celebrations of human flesh. The victims were bled in public before being taken to the butcher’s room. Anyone who dared interfere was taken next. Some even bragged about how good their meals tasted. Others, like Leslie’s family, would eat in silence, and forever regret not taking the opportunity to leave. Deserters were always served for Dessert.
One day, Leslie’s family sat her down, and explained how they believed they shouldn’t eat people anymore; not like this. They begged her to leave, and they would help her leave and correct their mistakes. She agreed. But sadly, that wouldn’t be the case. Before anything could be done with that plan, the men from the kitchen showed up at their door. The family was dragged out as everyone applauded and cheered. Leslie watched as they used butcher knives to make cuts on her parents’ skin. She could hardly feel it when they cut her, save for the blood streaming down her little arms.
She was twelve years old.
They brought her to the storage room. It was dark, but warm. She thought she would be killed, but the kitchen knew she would have so much more meat on her bones in a few years. They kept her in the storage room by herself. No one that young had ever been kept as a meal before, so she was alone. The chefs would feed her but she wouldn’t eat. She didn’t want to risk eating what was left of her parents. She wanted to honor their choices. Day after day she skipped meals, spending her time scratching enginnering plans and circuit board layouts into the walls, whatever she could remember. Time passed so slowly in there, or was it passing by fast?
Eventually, she had to eat. She was so hungry, starving. She felt like her stomach would implode if she didn’t. She sank her teeth into the juicy red meat, revelling in its satisfaction. But amidst the meat was something hard and cold, too cold to be bone.
It was a ring. A wedding ring. Her mothers.
She kept eating.
Her ghoulishness impressed the kitchen. She was allowed to leave the storage room to go to the freezer, and the place they cut the meat. With each passing day, she spent more time outside. Sometimes the butcher would allow her to watch the killing process. “You bleed them dry first. Alive.” The butcher would say. Time and time again she would watch these men kill the inhabitants of the vault, she watch as they were dissected, the good parts kept, the bad parts thrown away.
And one day it changed again. Heroes from the wasteland, the deserters of the vault and those joining the cause, stormed the vault, freeing inhabitants and ending perpetrators. They killed the butcher and the men in the kitchen and took Leslie away. Away from the vault and the storage room she called home. They took her away but she didn’t want to go. When they left the vault she ran from them. Because
All Leslie had ever known, was the vault. Its creaks and groans from wear and tear, its long, echoey hallways, the comforts of its enclosing walls. It was always home.
Roleplay Scenario: Time: 3:18 P.M. Location: 14 miles South of Niagara
As you're walking north along a desolate highway when you spot two large black birds circling in the sky in the distance. To the east, large thunderheads loom on the horizon. Hopeful to avoid the storm, you begin to walk a bit more briskly; scanning the area to find shelter from the radioactive downpour. You observe a small light grey smoke plume coming from the median of the highway only a couple hundred meters away. Before approaching the scene, you take a quick look in your bag (below is a list of your items). As you approach the scene, you can see that it is a Merchant Caravan that has been hit, likely by raiders. The merchant lies bloody and beaten to death near a slaughtered Brahman, blood covers his clothing and a box of items is scattered near him. Of the two guards, one lies near a jersey barrier; empty shell casings from her caravan shotgun scattered around her corpse. The other guard is struggling to pull himself upright using the one of the carts wheels, his left leg had been blown off below the shin and is now nothing but a bloody mix of singed skin and asphalt.
Bag contents:
1x 10mm Pistol
4x 10mm Pistol rounds
1x bottle of dirty water
2x Mentants
1x Salisbury steak
1x Squirrel on a stick
1x small radio (functional)
1x Stimpak
1x Half-used first aid kit (missing supplies)
What do you do?: (this is all under the pretense that my radio is not two-way)
Leslie ran over to the injured guard, fumbling for her own pistol as she did.
“Look, I’m just gonna help you, okay? But no sudden movements!” she screamed.
She then dropped her gun and reached for the First Aid Kit, trying desperately to patch the man as he faded in and out of consciousness. She had just enough gauze to cover most of the woudn, and she took off her outer shirt and tied it around the man’s leg, hoping to stop some of the bleeding.
She surveyed her surroundings. She couldn’t believe that the raiders wouldn’t take the bodies for food. She was only just beginning to understand just how deep a crime cannibalism was to everyone outside the vault. Not even the criminals ate people.
The man she was attempting to tend to collapsed completely. She had done what she could to stop the bleeding, but knew that the men needed desperate medical attention. A doctor’s bag would have what she needed to clean and cover the wound. She moved to the caravan, half hoping to find something to help the man, half hoping to find supplies for herself.. She scavenged for all the items she could, then looked at the body of the other guard. Blood was still fresh. Wounds needed to be cleaned, but still…
After a bit more scavenging, and resolving that the merchant was also very dead, she woke up the first guard by injecting a stimpak into his thigh. The resulting speed in blood pressure snapped him back into a groggy consciousness. Leslie helped the man to his leg and began to hobble away from the caravan with him.
“…cara…caravan…” he mumbled.
“Don’t worry,” she said as she patted her now blood-soaked bag. “We won’t forget their sacrifice.”
[Deleted]
Okay I apologize for the wait.
So... now I'll be moderate here and I'd ask you yo touch up on the strengths and weaknesses alonvside make the skin look more like a Ghoul, alongside of describing who your character was before the war and major events inbetween plus I'd like for you to fill out the RP example but as of now you are...(I'd also recommend reading the rules a tad bit more)
Also for anyone fixing denied applications, I'd recommend you repost it to make it easier for whitelisters to find such.
Sorry haha, accidentally pressed enter. Check it now.
Please read the actual post, the formatting got goofed up
I'll be honest - this was a close one. The character's concept itself was a little edgy, but you wrote him well enough that I actually wound up liking him. There were some noticeable grammatical errors, but those aren't a death sentence. There was a lot of good stuff in this app. It wasn't the best we've had - not by a looooong way - but it was alright, and I think there's something there.
That said, two things decided this for us: the skin, and the fact you didn't mention your previous bans. I'll address them both now:
The skin is edgy. Quite edgy. I mean, it's within the realm of possibility in the Fallout universe, but it's just not good enough for us. Change the skin - you're welcome to have the hood as a second layer that can be removed, but as of now it's too ninja-y.
And then, of course, your bans. According to some of our staff, you've been banned/temp-banned from several servers. Needless to say, your omission of this information reflects very badly on you. I suggest next time you mention them - others may not be so lenient.
But you won't have to re-make your app. PM me with a better skin, and you'll be whitelisted. Until then, though, you're...
OOC:
IGN:Pearl_CrystalGem
Age (Optional): 15
Skype name (Optional for the group chat/faction chats): joeyharrigan
Time Zone: EST
Prior Bans and reasons: I’m clean as a whistle.
Define Role-play: When someone acts out a unique or non-unique character that actions and dialogue matches their overall character’s persona.
Define Powergaming: To forces a character’s actions upon another player’s character in RP
Define Metagaming: To use OOC knowledge to your character’s advantage In-Character wise. This could be for example finding out where people are Out of Character and your character miraculous just is in that vicinity for some reason unknown.
Previous roleplay experience: I’ve RP’d on Silvergaming’s The Anerian Chronicles and From the Ashes. I have also RP’d on a RWBY forum and a Steven Universe RP group.
Previous Fallout experience: I have not had any Fallout RP experience, but I have been researching the fallout universe and all of it’s vaults.
Have you read the rules?: Yes I have.
Write any further questions here:
IC:
Character Name: Gabriel Verdin
Age: 26
Gender:
Race: Human and Gabriel a Caucasian- White mix.
Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): Gabriel is 5’8 and is 120 lbs. He is very lean and usually looks really weak. He has a sharp jawline just like his sister and black hair with one strand of blonde in it. He has brown eye and a light, beige skin tone. He has a eye patch over his right eye because he had lost it years ago. He wears a torn green shirt and a dark, red scarf. He wears brown pants and some armor on his shoulders. He also wears an ammo belt and dark black shoes. He bears many scars from years of traveling the desolate wastelands and a holster with no gun on his right side.
http://imgur.com/fBcjBhn
Strengths: Gabriel is one heck of a shot and usually is known as a sharpshooter. He’s a very quick on his feet and generally tends to be more of a stealthy person. He’s very protective to people he is close with and that usually only being his twin. He has a high tolerance to pain and usually only feels the pain of not having his sister with him.
Weaknesses: He’s very impulsive when it comes to protecting his sister and that might just get him killed. He’s very paranoid and almost mentally gone to the point of no return. He’s social incapable and scares most people away he meets. He is not strong and usually only can use guns to protect himself. But he also shows no mercy to people who he thinks should be condemned.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L. (Like in the games, you have 40 points to allocate. You must have at least one point in each, and cannot have more than ten.):
Strength: 4
Perception: 9
Endurance: 4
Charisma: 1
Intelligence: 3
Agility: 8
Luck: 4
Character Biography (Please include at least two quality paragraphs):
Gabriel, twin to Victora, was born to parents Rose and Warren Verdin in the wastelands in Maine. He never got handed much in life because he was just a wastelander and everything he did have he looted or he stole for. His sister and himself had no friends when they were little due to the fact that they were one of the only children that didn’t die of disease, attacks or fatigue. The Verdin twins were as close as any siblings could ever get and that’s all that was needed to make Gabriel happy. He knew his life was going nowhere, but at least him and his sister could be together forever. His father one of the only men in the group to have a gun, helped teach his son the basic knowledge of how to use a gun and make sure not to blow his brains out on accident.
When Gabriel was the age of thirteen him and his family approached a tall, cherry colored barn. Gabriel was uncertain about this new place, but he quickly went to go play “kick the rock” with himself. It all changed in a heartbeat as the barn was shot up and the whole group scattered as they fled. Gabriel was in a complete panic as he searched for his sister to be quickly knocked out by a strong force against the back of his head. When he woke up he was in a camp that he did not recognize, but what really made him anxious was that his twin wasn’t with him. Gabriel worked long days as his captors forced everyone in the camp perform rigorous tasks. Gabriel became more and more anxious without knowing where his twin was to the point where he began to slack work wise. His captors did not take kindly to this and began to inflict physical pain upon him. They started off with just burning cigars in his skin, but as the punishments continued it they became severely worse. After a few days of torture and labor, Gabriel saw someone in the group of slaves that looked like Victoria. He did not pursue her right away, but as he got closer to the girl tears of joy went down his face. Gabriel finally did approach his sister that he had longed to be with again and they continued on as if they had never been separated in the first place. Years went on them being tortured and forced to take part in cruel labor.
When Gabriel was 16, Gabriel saw a chance that would not come around again probably for a while. It was the middle of the night and one of the raiders that was watching the slave’s sleeping quarters was beginning to fall asleep. The slaves and the twins knew this could be their only chance to possibly escape. So as Gabriel stood up from his cot and walked over to the guard, he knew what must be done. Gabriel slowly begin to remove the raider’s gun from his holster and as he did sweat dripped from his face. Everything after that moment was a big blur for Gabriel and before he knew it he had shot the raider in the face. It’s like after that moment his mind just shut off and before he knew it all the slaves were fleeing from the camp, him included. He didn’t know where his sister was because they were separated in the waves of people fleeing from the camp and as he was looking for his sister in the crowd of people he was knocked over. He lay on the ground blood spills from his right eye and he had no clue where his sister was. He blinked as he became more and more tired from blood loss. He eventually blacked out and had no clue if he had died or just been unconscious.
The next day Gabriel woke up in a strange bed and this was not inside of the raiders camp. He looked from the bed to see a woman hovering over him and a big smile planted on her face. Gabriel stared at her before realizing that he could not see out of his right eye and as he touched it he felt nothing but bandages. The woman explained to the boy that she had been one of the slaves that escaped and found Gabriel on the ground. She explained to Gabriel that she had carried him to a near abandoned house and tended to his wounds. He quickly got up and realized that his twin was not with him. He became filled with worry as he paced back and forward. The lady tried to console him, but he just ignored her as he headed to leave the abandoned house. The lady stopped him and explained that he could not go out unarmed. She tried to convince him to stay a while, but Gabriel kept pushing to leave. She finally gave in to the boy leaving, but giving him some supplies she had collected while he was out. Gabriel took the supplies that consisted of a 10mm pistol, 4 rounds and a new attire. After changing into his new outfit and thanking lady, then quickly leaving in search for his sister. He walked for day not knowing where to go to find his sister and as the days went on he began to become paranoid. He would talk to himself by campfires and speak to bones of dead animals he found. Though he was almost to the brink of insanity and thought he never found his sister, he never stops looking for her.
Roleplay Scenario: Time: 3:18 P.M. Location: 14 miles South of Niagara
As you're walking north along a desolate highway when you spot two large black birds circling in the sky in the distance. To the east, large thunderheads loom on the horizon. Hopeful to avoid the storm, you begin to walk a bit more briskly; scanning the area to find shelter from the radioactive downpour. You observe a small light grey smoke plume coming from the median of the highway only a couple hundred meters away. Before approaching the scene, you take a quick look in your bag (below is a list of your items). As you approach the scene, you can see that it is a Merchant Caravan that has been hit, likely by raiders. The merchant lies bloody and beaten to death near a slaughtered Brahman, blood covers his clothing and a box of items is scattered near him. Of the two guards, one lies near a jersey barrier; empty shell casings from her caravan shotgun scattered around her corpse. The other guard is struggling to pull himself upright using the one of the carts wheels, his left leg had been blown off below the shin and is now nothing but a bloody mix of singed skin and asphalt.
Bag contents:
1x 10mm Pistol
4x 10mm Pistol rounds
1x bottle of dirty water
2x Mentants
1x Salisbury steak
1x Squirrel on a stick
1x small radio (functional)
1x Stimpak
1x Half-used first aid kit (missing supplies)
What do you do?:
Gabriel walks the highway to find a blood bath has occurred as he walks toward the merchant’s location. He looks and scouts the area before beginning to look for loot. He stumbles upon the two dying people and gives them a stern look. He approaches the merchant first and begins bend down to search his pockets. The merchant barely able to move only responds to this with one word, “H-help..” Gabriel looks up at him and begins to stand up now looking down at the man. He turns he head to the side as the man look up at Gabriel crying and using his last dying breaths. Gabriel knows their is no hope of saving this man and he sure as hell can use his supplies to fix him up. Gabriel pulls out his gun and holds it to the man's head. "There is no escaping the Shadows of the Old World.” as he says this he puts a round into the man's head and quickly goes back to looting. As he is walking he finds the other guard trying to sit up and this time Gabriel doesn’t even say a word as he puts a round into the guard’s head as well as putting him out of his “misery”.
Well, here's the skin. The skin viewer I used didnt show any of the hat or anything, it all was just flat. Sorry about that, this is much better
https://gyazo.com/cffe823facbc15ad8d0a59bf406d9b81
OOC:
IGN: lercas
Age (Optional): 16
Skype name (Optional for the group chat/faction chats): lucas.mackay
Time Zone: GMT/Mountain Time
Prior Bans and reasons: Not any that I am aware of or I just forgot about them
Define Role-play: Roleplaying is when you take the role of a character of your choosing and act as that character would.
Define Powergaming: Powergaming is when a character does overpowered things that are not fit for that character and when they force something onto players without their consent.
Define Metagaming: When a player gets information about things that happen in RP through OOC and uses in RP without knowing about it through RP.
Previous roleplay experience: Wild Wasteland, DrakeHeart, and Uthrandir
Previous Fallout experience: I've played both FO3 and NV and have seen videos of the older Fallouts.
Have you read the rules?: There is no escaping the Shadows of the Old World.
IC:
Character Name: Chopper
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Race: Human, Caucasian
Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): He can easily be recognized as some sort of dangerous person that should be avoided by the suspicious looking welding mask that seems to have dried blood striped down it. What makes him a interesting person that would catch the eye of most people is that he wears a vault suit that is armored and a pip-boy on his wrist He stands at 6'2 feet and is well built making him a intimidating looking fellow. Without his welding mask he has messy dark brown hair and tired brownish-green eyes with a rugged beard hugging his face and pale looking skin.
Strengths: He is very proficient with melee weapons mainly things like machetes and axes (hence the name Chopper since he uses weapons that chop things up), has great strength from using melee weapons to fight which has helped him build up muscle, has good endurance and stamina and can be a very clever and intimidating person because of his height.
Weaknesses: Firearms, though they aren't a big weakness of his he still isn't the best shot with a gun, but will usually get a few rounds into somebody, he's hard headed and doesn't like it when people get in his way or when they tell him what to do and thinks to highly of himself at times.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L. (Like in the games, you have 40 points to allocate. You must have at least one point in each, and cannot have more than ten.):
Character Biography (Please include at least two quality paragraphs):
Known as Chopper, a name given to him by his peers because of his use of axes and machetes over firearms to defend himself and killing his victims. Born in Iowa in the "safety" of one of the states many vaults and emerged from the vault with the rest of the dwellers who then explored the wastes keeping the vault and the surrounding area of it as their home. Known well his superiority with sharp melee weapons he helped the gang of raiders fend for themselves and assisted Clover the leader of the gang with certain tasks. He's an alcoholic and uses Psycho from time to time when he really needs it. Chopper grew up in a place that wasn't the best influence on his life. Though it has made him the man he is today and from what he has learned from the vault's supply of books has made him a knowledgeable person and a clever person.
Chopper was chosen by Clover to help him travel the wastes that were unknown them and scout the areas. He learned new tips and tricks about the wastes from Clover like things not to to do and things he should do. Since he was a quick learner he soon was able to use these things to his advantage in situations and use not only force, but his words as well to manipulate people though he still prefers to use force to do things like that.
Though out of all the things Chopper learned one was that firearms were not his strong suit. He still hopes he'll get better at it so he doesn't end up with a bullet in his head. Soon enough he found himself once again travelling past the wastes of Iowa through Illinois towards the Niagara Wasteland with Clover to scout out the area and see what's in store for them.
After
Roleplay Scenario: Time: 3:18 P.M. Location: 14 miles South of Niagara
As you're walking north along a desolate highway when you spot two large black birds circling in the sky in the distance. To the east, large thunderheads loom on the horizon. Hopeful to avoid the storm, you begin to walk a bit more briskly; scanning the area to find shelter from the radioactive downpour. You observe a small light grey smoke plume coming from the median of the highway only a couple hundred meters away. Before approaching the scene, you take a quick look in your bag (below is a list of your items). As you approach the scene, you can see that it is a Merchant Caravan that has been hit, likely by raiders. The merchant lies bloody and beaten to death near a slaughtered Brahman, blood covers his clothing and a box of items is scattered near him. Of the two guards, one lies near a jersey barrier; empty shell casings from her caravan shotgun scattered around her corpse. The other guard is struggling to pull himself upright using the one of the carts wheels, his left leg had been blown off below the shin and is now nothing but a bloody mix of singed skin and asphalt.
Bag contents:
1x 10mm Pistol
4x 10mm Pistol rounds
1x bottle of dirty water
2x Mentants
1x Salisbury steak
1x Squirrel on a stick
1x small radio (functional)
1x Stimpak
1x Half-used first aid kit (missing supplies)
What do you do?: Chopper smirks through his mask and casually strolled toward the big mess and reaching for his pistol in his holster as the storm continued to grow closer to his location. As he reaches the raided caravan he notices the one guard struggling to get up and chuckles and says "Looks like you're in quite the crappy situation my good sir." the guard replies with a pained look on his face "N-No crap..." as he collapses back onto the ground. "You really don't seem to have any other hope here sir, there's a storm coming and you're bleeding out..." Chopper says as he begins to loot the remaining supplies from the caravan "Maybe you could le-!" before he guard finishes his complaining he's cut off by the sound of Chopper's pistol through his head. Chopper holsters his firearm and watches blood drip from the man's head onto the asphalt painting it red before putting it away sighing. Before he leaves the scene he turns back to the slumped corpse of the guard and replies "Sorry I just don't help someone who's already dead." and continues down the road towards Niagara whistling a tone as the sounds of thunder grow stronger.
OOC:
IGN: FrothedMilk
Age (Optional): 15
Skype name (Optional for the group chat/faction chats):
Time Zone: NDT
Prior Bans and reasons: Most Recently- Trolling/Being Silly – Because I was very bored and tried to fix that in a very stupid way.
Define Role-play: Acting, immersing yourself into a world as a character and having that character act just as a real person would in a real world(Fear death even though you know in real life you can just respawn, have their ears hurt from a loud noise even though you in your computer chair just had to turn the volume down a bit are examples of Role-Playing while using a video game as a platform.)
Define Powergaming: Forcing an action and a reaction to occur in Role-Play, (*fires rifle and kills assailaint instantly* as opposed to *fires the rifle aimed at his opponent*)Even if the outcome you state is likely, it is not your job to roleplay the reaction to your action, that is the other player’s responsibility. You could also associate Powergaming with simply being ridiculously overpowered like surviving something that you couldn’t possibly survive.
Define Metagaming: Having your character know what you know – using OOC information IC.
Previous roleplay experience: I’ve played on servers like these before but not in a while, I’d bet my money that I’m really rusty right now which is why I want to get back into it.
Previous Fallout experience: The first game I played was Fallout 3, I had really fell in love with the lore and the wiki by Fallout: New Vegas, many of the RP servers I’ve played on have been Fallout-themed.
Have you read the rules?: Yes
Write any further questions here:
There is no escaping the shadows of the old world.
IC:
Character Name: Frederic Withers
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Race: Caucasoid/White
Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): 5ft and 11 inches in height, at the top of his thin body; a gaunt neck holding up a head of greasy black hair. He has restless blue eyes with bags under them divided by a thin nose. He has dirt, inflamed areas and scabs covering parts of his body.
http://i.imgur.com/ktbNdbN.png
Strengths: Experienced in repairing makeshift armors and scrap shacks. Knows how to operate most small guns and rifles, but doesn’t have the best long range aim making him best with personal defense weapons.
Weaknesses: Fred has lived his life suffering from vitamin deficiency, giving him weak bones that hurt easily if he puts too much pressure on his legs, making running more taxing, this combined with little muscle makes him an awful candidate for melee combat. He has lost some patches of skin from radiation poisoning, and is prone to vomiting from his radiation sickness. His appearance makes him look like he is addicted to the worst of chems, but fact is he’s just disease-ridden.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L. (Like in the games, you have 40 points to allocate. You must have at least one point in each, and cannot have more than ten.):
Strength: 3
Perception: 5
Endurance: 3
Charisma: 6
Intelligence: 7
Agility: 8
Luck: 8
Character Biography (Please include at least two quality paragraphs):
Fred was born in early 2248 south of the ruins of Ottawa, Canada. His mother was the leader of a group of traveling wasters. But Fred’s first memories were of a town that he grew up in, a collection of people holding their own against the wastes in the ruins of Watertown, USA. He spent his youth working on maintaining and creating shacks composed of scrap metal in the settlement with his mother. By age twenty, he’d learned how to use more basic forging tools like the blowtorch and developed a hobby of repairing traveler’s armor in exchange for supplies.
When his mother passed from unidentified disease in 2274, Fred left the now poverty-stricken town and headed north-east, taking his belongings with him and partnering with a tougher, more experienced local named Merrick. Fred and Merrick traveled the wastes, Fred handled the sales and Merrick was responsible for security. In 2275 the two repaired ancient gladiator masks for an ice-gang and helped them navigate their way through the black river.
After a year of dodging raiders and arduous haggling, the two had gained another guard, and a pack Brahmin. They considered themselves wealthy enough to cash in for a bit, and look at a more permanent home and business. The two returned to Watertown in late 2275, finding a shell of what used to be considered sanctuary from the horrors of the wasteland. Fred and Merrick bickered about whether they should stay there for the night. Fred assured him that his home town wouldn’t cross him, and so the two rested in the town for the night, exchanging food for shelter. When Fred awoke, he found his partner gone, exiting the bunkhouse to see his pack Brahmin and guard gone as well. He asked the gate guard what happened, and was told that his caravan guard had stolen the Brahmin with some locals, and that his partner left looking for them.
Fred waited a week, getting back in touch with some childhood friends, but many of the people he’d knew had left. He helped the town ward off a small raider attack, somewhat regretting leaving his home town in its time of need almost two years ago. Growing impatient, Fred left the settlement and searched the ruins of Watertown, after a few hours he stumbled upon the body of the traitorous caravan guard, and a local from the settlement, bloody craters in their chests from a shotgun, but no sign of the Brahmin, or Merrick. Fred searched until dark, returning to the town, confused. He was unsure whether he’d been conned by his business partner for all he was worth, or got a close friend killed by making a bad call.
Fred rejoined the settlement and lived there for most of 2276, he tried to help the settlement out by trading with travelers, but sometimes the greedy merchant side of him outshined the good; and he would stash food for himself in case he needed to leave. Over the year the raider attacks became worse, caravans stopped coming to the settlement despite the attraction Fred tried to create. Many left the settlement, less than a dozen wasters remained. One day, a band of slavers rolled into town, and took the young, killing those who fought back and leaving the old. Fred fled the settlement without getting to his supplies, knowing being a hero would only get him killed.
Now in 2277, Fred wanders the wastes trying to find a new town, living off the land and trading with those he deems safe to approach.
Roleplay Scenario: Time: 3:18 P.M. Location: 14 miles South of Niagara
As you're walking north along a desolate highway when you spot two large black birds circling in the sky in the distance. To the east, large thunderheads loom on the horizon. Hopeful to avoid the storm, you begin to walk a bit more briskly; scanning the area to find shelter from the radioactive downpour. You observe a small light grey smoke plume coming from the median of the highway only a couple hundred meters away. Before approaching the scene, you take a quick look in your bag (below is a list of your items). As you approach the scene, you can see that it is a Merchant Caravan that has been hit, likely by raiders. The merchant lies bloody and beaten to death near a slaughtered Brahman, blood covers his clothing and a box of items is scattered near him. Of the two guards, one lies near a jersey barrier; empty shell casings from her caravan shotgun scattered around her corpse. The other guard is struggling to pull himself upright using the one of the carts wheels, his left leg had been blown off below the shin and is now nothing but a bloody mix of singed skin and asphalt.
Bag contents:
1x 10mm Pistol
4x 10mm Pistol rounds
1x bottle of dirty water
2x Mentants
1x Salisbury steak
1x Squirrel on a stick
1x small radio (functional)
1x Stimpak
1x Half-used first aid kit (missing supplies)
What do you do?:
Fred approaches the surviving guard, kneeling down and helping the guard sit against the cart instead of foolishly trying to walk. “Where were you headed?” “The Falls, to the north” Replies the guard, stumbling over his own words. Fred takes off his belt and goes to wrap it above the Guard’s stump “I think you’re supposed to put pressure on it or something.” “Help me, please.” Says the guard, grabbing Fred’s arm, breathing heavily. “Your foot is pretty mezzed, man. Your caravan did they come from anywhere near here?” “Help me, please you’ve got to.” Fred sighs, standing up and looking down at the miserable man, then looking to the eastern skies. Fred opens his bag, looking at the little pistol rounds he had left, hesitantly closing the bag. “There’s nothing I can do.” Fred said, frowning and turning to search the caravan as the man whaled, but the good were picked clean by attackers. Fred walked off the road and to the north-west, hoping to avoid whoever attacked the caravan, escape the storm, and find shelter. The black birds still looming over the sacked caravan.
OOC:
IGN: FrothedMilk
Age (Optional): 15
Skype name (Optional for the group chat/faction chats):
Time Zone: NDT
Prior Bans and reasons: Most Recently- Trolling/Being Silly – Because I was very bored and tried to fix that in a very stupid way.
Define Role-play: Acting, immersing yourself into a world as a character and having that character act just as a real person would in a real world(Fear death even though you know in real life you can just respawn, have their ears hurt from a loud noise even though you in your computer chair just had to turn the volume down a bit are examples of Role-Playing while using a video game as a platform.)
Define Powergaming: Forcing an action and a reaction to occur in Role-Play, (*fires rifle and kills assailaint instantly* as opposed to *fires the rifle aimed at his opponent*)Even if the outcome you state is likely, it is not your job to roleplay the reaction to your action, that is the other player’s responsibility. You could also associate Powergaming with simply being ridiculously overpowered like surviving something that you couldn’t possibly survive.
Define Metagaming: Having your character know what you know – using OOC information IC.
Previous roleplay experience: I’ve played on servers like these before but not in a while, I’d bet my money that I’m really rusty right now which is why I want to get back into it.
Previous Fallout experience: The first game I played was Fallout 3, I had really fell in love with the lore and the wiki by Fallout: New Vegas, many of the RP servers I’ve played on have been Fallout-themed.
Have you read the rules?: Yes
Write any further questions here:
There is no escaping the shadows of the old world.
IC:
Character Name: Frederic Withers
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Race: Caucasoid/White
Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): 5ft and 11 inches in height, at the top of his thin body; a gaunt neck holding up a head of greasy black hair. He has restless blue eyes with bags under them divided by a thin nose. He has dirt, inflamed areas and scabs covering parts of his body.
http://i.imgur.com/ktbNdbN.png
Strengths: Experienced in repairing makeshift armors and scrap shacks. Knows how to operate most small guns and rifles, but doesn’t have the best long range aim making him best with personal defense weapons.
Weaknesses: Fred has lived his life suffering from vitamin deficiency, giving him weak bones that hurt easily if he puts too much pressure on his legs, making running more taxing, this combined with little muscle makes him an awful candidate for melee combat. He has lost some patches of skin from radiation poisoning, and is prone to vomiting from his radiation sickness. His appearance makes him look like he is addicted to the worst of chems, but fact is he’s just disease-ridden.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L. (Like in the games, you have 40 points to allocate. You must have at least one point in each, and cannot have more than ten.):
Strength: 3
Perception: 5
Endurance: 3
Charisma: 6
Intelligence: 7
Agility: 8
Luck: 8
Character Biography (Please include at least two quality paragraphs):
Fred was born in early 2248 south of the ruins of Ottawa, Canada. His mother was the leader of a group of traveling wasters. But Fred’s first memories were of a town that he grew up in, a collection of people holding their own against the wastes in the ruins of Watertown, USA. He spent his youth working on maintaining and creating shacks composed of scrap metal in the settlement with his mother. By age twenty, he’d learned how to use more basic forging tools like the blowtorch and developed a hobby of repairing traveler’s armor in exchange for supplies.
When his mother passed from unidentified disease in 2274, Fred left the now poverty-stricken town and headed north-east, taking his belongings with him and partnering with a tougher, more experienced local named Merrick. Fred and Merrick traveled the wastes, Fred handled the sales and Merrick was responsible for security. In 2275 the two repaired ancient gladiator masks for an ice-gang and helped them navigate their way through the black river.
After a year of dodging raiders and arduous haggling, the two had gained another guard, and a pack Brahmin. They considered themselves wealthy enough to cash in for a bit, and look at a more permanent home and business. The two returned to Watertown in late 2275, finding a shell of what used to be considered sanctuary from the horrors of the wasteland. Fred and Merrick bickered about whether they should stay there for the night. Fred assured him that his home town wouldn’t cross him, and so the two rested in the town for the night, exchanging food for shelter. When Fred awoke, he found his partner gone, exiting the bunkhouse to see his pack Brahmin and guard gone as well. He asked the gate guard what happened, and was told that his caravan guard had stolen the Brahmin with some locals, and that his partner left looking for them.
Fred waited a week, getting back in touch with some childhood friends, but many of the people he’d knew had left. He helped the town ward off a small raider attack, somewhat regretting leaving his home town in its time of need almost two years ago. Growing impatient, Fred left the settlement and searched the ruins of Watertown, after a few hours he stumbled upon the body of the traitorous caravan guard, and a local from the settlement, bloody craters in their chests from a shotgun, but no sign of the Brahmin, or Merrick. Fred searched until dark, returning to the town, confused. He was unsure whether he’d been conned by his business partner for all he was worth, or got a close friend killed by making a bad call.
Fred rejoined the settlement and lived there for most of 2276, he tried to help the settlement out by trading with travelers, but sometimes the greedy merchant side of him outshined the good; and he would stash food for himself in case he needed to leave. Over the year the raider attacks became worse, caravans stopped coming to the settlement despite the attraction Fred tried to create. Many left the settlement, less than a dozen wasters remained. One day, a band of slavers rolled into town, and took the young, killing those who fought back and leaving the old. Fred fled the settlement without getting to his supplies, knowing being a hero would only get him killed.
Now in 2277, Fred wanders the wastes trying to find a new town, living off the land and trading with those he deems safe to approach.
Roleplay Scenario: Time: 3:18 P.M. Location: 14 miles South of Niagara
As you're walking north along a desolate highway when you spot two large black birds circling in the sky in the distance. To the east, large thunderheads loom on the horizon. Hopeful to avoid the storm, you begin to walk a bit more briskly; scanning the area to find shelter from the radioactive downpour. You observe a small light grey smoke plume coming from the median of the highway only a couple hundred meters away. Before approaching the scene, you take a quick look in your bag (below is a list of your items). As you approach the scene, you can see that it is a Merchant Caravan that has been hit, likely by raiders. The merchant lies bloody and beaten to death near a slaughtered Brahman, blood covers his clothing and a box of items is scattered near him. Of the two guards, one lies near a jersey barrier; empty shell casings from her caravan shotgun scattered around her corpse. The other guard is struggling to pull himself upright using the one of the carts wheels, his left leg had been blown off below the shin and is now nothing but a bloody mix of singed skin and asphalt.
Bag contents:
1x 10mm Pistol
4x 10mm Pistol rounds
1x bottle of dirty water
2x Mentants
1x Salisbury steak
1x Squirrel on a stick
1x small radio (functional)
1x Stimpak
1x Half-used first aid kit (missing supplies)
What do you do?:
Fred approaches the surviving guard, kneeling down and helping the guard sit against the cart instead of foolishly trying to walk. “Where were you headed?” “The Falls, to the north” Replies the guard, stumbling over his own words. Fred takes off his belt and goes to wrap it above the Guard’s stump “I think you’re supposed to put pressure on it or something.” “Help me, please.” Says the guard, grabbing Fred’s arm, breathing heavily. “Your foot is pretty mezzed, man. Your caravan did they come from anywhere near here?” “Help me, please you’ve got to.” Fred sighs, standing up and looking down at the miserable man, then looking to the eastern skies. Fred opens his bag, looking at the little pistol rounds he had left, hesitantly closing the bag. “There’s nothing I can do.” Fred said, frowning and turning to search the caravan as the man whaled, but the good were picked clean by attackers. Fred walked off the road and to the north-west, hoping to avoid whoever attacked the caravan, escape the storm, and find shelter. The black birds still looming over the sacked caravan.
Okay so... everything seems to line up and all that, definitions are good and all that so... you are...
((Riley is threatening me with my life if I don't accept it, pls help.))
Good enough.
I'm still waiting on my whitelist, I sent and posted my fixed skin to the guy and put it on the forums.
:/
Hey be patient and take a number.
Character Name: (Captain) Harvey Davis
Age: 238
Gender: Male
Race: Ghoul
Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): A grotesquely disfigured ghoul with the majority of his jaw exposed due to the flesh having flaked away long ago. He typically wears a wig of some sort over his head in an attempt to keep the rest of the balding rotted flesh concealed.
Strengths: A quick thinker with a silver tongue, along with years of experience both of life before and after the great war. A decent shot leftover from his Pre-War military days.
Weaknesses: Easy to flying off the handle, he does not take well to being called a Zombie, or even having the slightest of comments made about his appearance, aside from those whom he already tolerates. His muscles and bones have long since been ravaged by both the course of time and his ghoulification, leaving him physically weakened.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L. (Like in the games, you have 40 points to allocate. You must have at least one point in each, and cannot have more than ten.):
Character Biography (Please include at least two quality paragraphs):
Born in 2042, Harvey lived an average life in Pre-War America. Going to school, getting married and eventually joining the US Military in the Army when he was 24 years old. He served for nearly a decade before he was sent to the warfront in Alaska to fight off the chinese invasion in Anchorage. As the war progressed, he found himself rising through the ranks, less through any real skill or through earning it, rather being pushed into new positions as his immediate superiors were killed in the line of duty. This trend continued until the near end of the reclamation of Anchorage, which is when he was hastily promoted to the rank of Captain. After the Chinese forces were pushed back, he spent the next few months in an army camp outside of Anchorage while waiting for his discharge papers for him to head home, they were set to arrive and be ready for pickup at 5:00PM October 23rd, 2077.
When he went to pick up his discharge papers, he only heard the sirens for a moment before the intense blast of heat and light blinded him briefly as he felt the blood beneath his skin boiling from the blast before everything went dark. When he came to, everything around him was in flames, buildings collapsing as explosions continued to echo through the streets nothing but piles of ash, rubble and bones littering the ground. Much of his body felt strange, his skin began to peel after a few hours much like a bad sunburn, however after the first day in what he could only imagine to be hell, his skin began peeling off to the muscle, it slowly gaining a sickly pale tint as tuffs of hair fell from his skull. As the days went on he saw other people, however they did not seem to be people at all, amongst the ruins he found those who seemed like walking corpses, unable to speak or reason, they simply groaned in pain, wandering aimlessly in the streets, sewers and ruined buildings. He thought to himself that this must be hell, he had to of died, for what else could this be? As days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years, and years to decades he watched the world slowly change. The ruins of the old-world became covered in thick blankets of black snow and ice mixed with soot for decades.
He took to traveling away from Anchorage, exploring other parts of the wastes for nearly fifty years. In this time he began finding others, some like himself, mutated creatures beyond salvation and after many years finally, humans. He was both relieved and saddened by this, while humanity survived, he was shunned and seen as yet another mutant and as a result he became bitter. He started viewing most of the smoothskins as bigoted ingrates, especially those who deemed him a “Zombie”. Deciding to educate them on what actual zombies were, he embraced it. He took to covering his teeth with toxic and poisonous materials so they could see what happens when they are bitten by a zombie. He continued to roam the wastes, becoming callous and cold to the hell that he resides in, killing those he needed to in order to survive and not caring in the slightest. He spent many decades using his pre-war military know how to act as a mercenary, providing protection to caravans traveling through less than healthy environments.
As the years went on, the effects of age as well as the necrosis began to take their toll. His muscles began to weaken and his bones began to ache, causing him difficulty in continuing his mercenary work. He decided instead to follow through with an older dream, that of business, of being entrepreneur. He went from town to town, scamming people out of their caps for no reason other than to make a profit. After saving up enough, he decided that gambling, whoring and promoting other vices was one of the more profitable, and often safest paths of business to take. After hearing rumors of a series of settlements nestled away in the Niagara region, he set out to leave his mark on this backwater crater on the map.
Roleplay Scenario: Time: 3:18 P.M. Location: 14 miles South of Niagara
As you're walking north along a desolate highway when you spot two large black birds circling in the sky in the distance. To the east, large thunderheads loom on the horizon. Hopeful to avoid the storm, you begin to walk a bit more briskly; scanning the area to find shelter from the radioactive downpour. You observe a small light grey smoke plume coming from the median of the highway only a couple hundred meters away. Before approaching the scene, you take a quick look in your bag (below is a list of your items). As you approach the scene, you can see that it is a Merchant Caravan that has been hit, likely by raiders. The merchant lies bloody and beaten to death near a slaughtered Brahman, blood covers his clothing and a box of items is scattered near him. Of the two guards, one lies near a jersey barrier; empty shell casings from her caravan shotgun scattered around her corpse. The other guard is struggling to pull himself upright using the one of the carts wheels, his left leg had been blown off below the shin and is now nothing but a bloody mix of singed skin and asphalt.
Bag contents:
1x 10mm Pistol
4x 10mm Pistol rounds
1x bottle of dirty water
2x Mentants
1x Salisbury steak
1x Squirrel on a stick
1x small radio (functional)
1x Stimpak
1x Half-used first aid kit (missing supplies)
What do you do?: (Other than saying There is no escaping the Shadows of the Old World?)
Harvey approaches with a slight brow raised, dusting off the shoulder of his suit and straightening his tie, he glances down at the injured guard “Well kid, looks like you’re a tad ed eh? Oh well, not like there is any point in wasting supplies on you anyways, you’ll just be killed in a week by some other chuckle anyways. Sorry all the same kid, life’s a unless you aren't one yourself.” He says with a tired shrug, stepping past the man briskly without a word to rummage through the boxes, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one, raising it to his mouth before blowing out a breath of smoke "I would offer to just put you out of your misery smoothskin, but honestly ammo is not common enough to just waste on euthanasia, and quite frankly I do not care to help that much either way." He says with a drawn out sigh, tapping some of the ashes from the cigarette onto the ground with his forefinger before tossing it over towards the man, allowing it to let a small plume of smoke rise from it in front of him. "Take care kid, or don't. No real difference anyways." And with that his tips his hat curtly at the mutilated figure before making his way down the road.
Once again you haven't I inquired on your past bans drom different servers and the skin is just a bit worse. Now I'd be fine with the skin if you cast off the robes and put him in some regular clothing like some old shirt and pants, avoid using 2x2 eyes and that's it. As of now you are...
Okay so, I've got some quite mixed feelings regardinf this application because on one hand it meets my requirements but at rhe same time it appears as if your character is "evil just to be evil", regarding how he'd steal and shoot people with little to no care regarding such. Yes I understand that there are some other characters out there that seem like so but those are mainly trusted players already known by the community, I mean I'm willing to let that go but t that stacked up ontop of the skin gived me mixed feelings. Now I don't hage anything against you, just all I want you to do is cast off the 2x2 eyds and give your character a more wastelandish look, now if you hot questions just add me on Skype and my names is Spawnfan55, though all I really want you to do is tidy up on the skin and clarify more about why character is that way, though as of now you are...
Okay so... yours is a "special case" with me so once I get some clarification you'll fully be...
Also I apologize for the delay once again, since my phone is a hassle to whitelist on, and or I recommend you REPOST your applications.
Joey’s
OOC:
IGN:Pearl_CrystalGem
Age (Optional): 15
Skype name (Optional for the group chat/faction chats): joeyharrigan
Time Zone: EST
Prior Bans and reasons: I’m clean as a whistle.
Define Role-play: When someone acts out a unique or non-unique character that actions and dialogue matches their overall character’s persona.
Define Powergaming: To forces a character’s actions upon another player’s character in RP
Define Metagaming: To use OOC knowledge to your character’s advantage In-Character wise. This could be for example finding out where people are Out of Character and your character miraculous just is in that vicinity for some reason unknown.
Previous roleplay experience: I’ve RP’d on Silvergaming’s The Anerian Chronicles and From the Ashes. I have also RP’d on a RWBY forum and a Steven Universe RP group.
Previous Fallout experience: I have not had any Fallout RP experience, but I have been researching the fallout universe and all of it’s vaults.
Have you read the rules?: Yes I have.
Write any further questions here:
IC:
Character Name: Gabriel Verdin
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Race: Human and Gabriel a Caucasian- White mix.
Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): Gabriel is 5’8 and is 120 lbs. He is very lean and usually looks really weak. He has a sharp jawline just like his sister and black hair with one strand of blonde in it. He has brown eye and a light, beige skin tone. He has a eye patch over his right eye because he had lost it years ago. He has a shoul over his mouth and a brown overcoat. He wears a faded green under shirt and black, ripped pants. He wears a pair of worn out shoes he found in the wastelands.
http://imgur.com/mWB5aNr
Strengths: Gabriel is one heck of a shot and though he has no depth perception, he has practice to enough to get over his “Disability”. He’s a very quick on his feet and generally tends to be more of a stealthy person. He’s very protective to people he is close with and that usually only being his twin. He has a high tolerance to pain and usually only feels the pain of not having his sister with him.
Weaknesses: He’s very impulsive when it comes to protecting his sister and that might just get him killed. He’s very paranoid and almost mentally gone to the point of no return. He’s social incapable and scares most people away he meets. He is not strong and usually only can use guns to protect himself. But he also shows no mercy to people who he thinks should be condemned.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L. (Like in the games, you have 40 points to allocate. You must have at least one point in each, and cannot have more than ten.):
Strength: 4
Perception: 9
Endurance: 4
Charisma: 1
Intelligence: 3
Agility: 8
Luck: 4
Character Biography (Please include at least two quality paragraphs):
Gabriel, twin to Victora, was born to parents Rose and Warren Verdin in the wastelands in Maine. He never got handed much in life because he was just a wastelander and everything he did have he looted or he stole for. His sister and himself had no friends when they were little due to the fact that they were one of the only children that didn’t die of disease, attacks or fatigue. The Verdin twins were as close as any siblings could ever get and that’s all that was needed to make Gabriel happy. He knew his life was going nowhere, but at least him and his sister could be together forever. His father one of the only men in the group to have a gun, helped teach his son the basic knowledge of how to use a gun and make sure not to blow his brains out on accident.
When Gabriel was the age of thirteen him and his family approached a tall, cherry colored barn. Gabriel was uncertain about this new place, but he quickly went to go play “kick the rock” with himself. It all changed in a heartbeat as the barn was shot up and the whole group scattered as they fled. Gabriel was in a complete panic as he searched for his sister to be quickly knocked out by a strong force against the back of his head. When he woke up he was in a camp that he did not recognize, but what really made him anxious was that his twin wasn’t with him. Gabriel worked long days as his captors forced everyone in the camp perform rigorous tasks. Gabriel became more and more anxious without knowing where his twin was to the point where he began to slack work wise. His captors did not take kindly to this and began to inflict physical pain upon him. They started off with just burning cigars in his skin, but as the punishments continued it they became severely worse. After a few days of torture and labor, Gabriel saw someone in the group of slaves that looked like Victoria. He did not pursue her right away, but as he got closer to the girl tears of joy went down his face. Gabriel finally did approach his sister that he had longed to be with again and they continued on as if they had never been separated in the first place. Years went on them being tortured and forced to take part in cruel labor.
When Gabriel was 16, Gabriel saw a chance that would not come around again probably for a while. It was the middle of the night and one of the raiders that was watching the slave’s sleeping quarters was beginning to fall asleep. The slaves and the twins knew this could be their only chance to possibly escape. So as Gabriel stood up from his cot and walked over to the guard, he knew what must be done. Gabriel slowly begin to remove the raider’s gun from his holster and as he did sweat dripped from his face. Everything after that moment was a big blur for Gabriel and before he knew it he had shot the raider in the face. It’s like after that moment his mind just shut off and before he knew it all the slaves were fleeing from the camp, him included. He didn’t know where his sister was because they were separated in the waves of people fleeing from the camp and as he was looking for his sister in the crowd of people he was knocked over. He lay on the ground blood spills from his right eye and he had no clue where his sister was. He blinked as he became more and more tired from blood loss. He eventually blacked out and had no clue if he had died or just been unconscious.
The next day Gabriel woke up in a strange bed and this was not inside of the raiders camp. He looked from the bed to see a woman hovering over him and a big smile planted on her face. Gabriel stared at her before realizing that he could not see out of his right eye and as he touched it he felt nothing but bandages. The woman explained to the boy that she had been one of the slaves that escaped and found Gabriel on the ground. She explained to Gabriel that she had carried him to a near abandoned house and tended to his wounds. He quickly got up and realized that his twin was not with him. He became filled with worry as he paced back and forward. The lady tried to console him, but he just ignored her as he headed to leave the abandoned house. The lady stopped him and explained that he could not go out unarmed. She tried to convince him to stay a while, but Gabriel kept pushing to leave. She finally gave in to the boy leaving, but giving him some supplies she had collected while he was out. Gabriel took the supplies that consisted of a 10mm pistol, 4 rounds and a new attire. After changing into his new outfit and thanking lady, then quickly leaving in search for his sister. He walked for day not knowing where to go to find his sister and as the days went on he began to become paranoid. He would talk to himself by campfires and speak to bones of dead animals he found. Though he was almost to the brink of insanity and thought he never found his sister, he never stops looking for her.
Roleplay Scenario: Time: 3:18 P.M. Location: 14 miles South of Niagara
As you're walking north along a desolate highway when you spot two large black birds circling in the sky in the distance. To the east, large thunderheads loom on the horizon. Hopeful to avoid the storm, you begin to walk a bit more briskly; scanning the area to find shelter from the radioactive downpour. You observe a small light grey smoke plume coming from the median of the highway only a couple hundred meters away. Before approaching the scene, you take a quick look in your bag (below is a list of your items). As you approach the scene, you can see that it is a Merchant Caravan that has been hit, likely by raiders. The merchant lies bloody and beaten to death near a slaughtered Brahman, blood covers his clothing and a box of items is scattered near him. Of the two guards, one lies near a jersey barrier; empty shell casings from her caravan shotgun scattered around her corpse. The other guard is struggling to pull himself upright using the one of the carts wheels, his left leg had been blown off below the shin and is now nothing but a bloody mix of singed skin and asphalt.
Bag contents:
1x 10mm Pistol
4x 10mm Pistol rounds
1x bottle of dirty water
2x Mentants
1x Salisbury steak
1x Squirrel on a stick
1x small radio (functional)
1x Stimpak
1x Half-used first aid kit (missing supplies)
What do you do?:
Gabriel walks the highway to find a blood bath has occurred as he walks toward the merchant’s location. He looks and scouts the area before beginning to look for loot. He stumbles upon the two dying people and gives them a stern look. He approaches the merchant first and begins bend down to search his pockets. The merchant barely able to move only responds to this with one word, “H-help..” Gabriel looks up at him and begins to stand up now looking down at the man. He turns he head to the side as the man look up at Gabriel crying and using his last dying breaths. Gabriel knows their is no hope of saving this man and he sure as hell can use his supplies to fix him up. Gabriel pulls out his gun and holds it to the man's head. “I wish you well,” as he says this he puts a round into the man's head and quickly goes back to looting. As he is walking he finds the other guard trying to sit up and this time Gabriel doesn’t even say a word as he puts a round into the guard’s head as well putting him out of his “misery”.
OOC:
IGN: broken_sky
Age (Optional): 22
Skype name (Optional for the group chat/faction chats): grz_art
Time Zone: EST
Prior Bans and reasons: None
Define Role-play: Roleplay is art with words, storytelling with multiple authors, from the vantage of characters within the story. It is not a novel written by one man, but a real interaction between people as they become the characters they have created. Hippie jargon-filled nonsense aside, it’s a game where you are playing from the vantage of a character entirely; not as yourself, but with the reactions and emotions of a well-developed character, as you progress through their life and story.
Define Powergaming: Powergaming, if RP terminology hasn’t changed in the last 5 years, is when in a given situation your character is somehow over- or all- powered. Able to do things that, realistically, would not be able to happen.
Define Metagaming: Metagaming is when, IC, a character behaves with knowledge they cannot know, but that is known by the player or author, OOC. It is being untrue to the development of the character.
Previous roleplay experience: Good God, man. Let’s see. I ran a Fallout Minecraft server back in the day. Called it Old World Blues. Guess there’s no escaping the shadows of the old world, huh? Anyway, I’ve also ran and participated in Forum based RP for many, many years. Like, since I was 13. Been a member of Roleplayer’s Guild and Coloholics Anonymous but always preferred more specific RPs. I’m pretty sure before I went awol I did some RPs on these forums too.
Previous Fallout experience: I’ve played Fallout NV and a little bit of Fallout 3, but I’ve read pretty much every fallout wiki article at least once. I love the Fallout backstory and lore, and Fallout is one of my favorite fandoms like ever.
Have you read the rules?: Yes. Through and through.
Write any further questions here: Is it dumb to submit this when it’s closing Oct 3? D:
IC:
Character Name: Leslie Dobbs
Age: 15
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): Leslie is a short but slender girl, with light skin, long, brown hair, and brown eyes.
Strengths: Leslie is incredibly gifted anatomy, virtually memorizing its entire layout and able to aid the body’s healing and ease pain; or, if need be, inflict it in great amounts. Being small, she is also rather agile.
Weaknesses: Leslie is small and weaker, so not of too much use in an actual, drawn out fight. She is also rather inept socially, thanks to her upbringing, and sometimes has epilepsy-like spasms and fits of craziness. All that’s explained, though, I promise it isn’t random.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L.:
Strength: 3
Perception: 7
Endurance: 3
Charisma: 7
Intelligence: 9
Agility: 7
Luck: 4
Character Biography (Please include at least two quality paragraphs):
All Leslie had ever known, was the vault. Its creaks and groans from wear and tear, its long, echoey hallways, the comforts of its enclosing walls. It was always home.
There was so much about the vault that Leslie loved growing up. She loved the people, always so nice to her. She loved the music that would come over the intercom sometimes. She loved to scavenge for old holotapes and listen to what the world before the vaut was like. She loved to explore all the hidden and forgotten rooms of the vault. She loved to go to the engineering rooms and study them, figure out how they worked. She loved to play with the old computers and make them do funny things around the vault, like activate sprinkles or close doors. And the food, by goodness she loved the food that they would whip up. Sometimes they would have steak, sometimes they would have hamburgers, even. Whatever it was, she knew it was going to be tasty and have meat, and she loved to eat.
But one day she made a mistake, and even though her parents tried to hide and lie about it to her, she always knew. One day she was having a quite delicious order of ham and green beans, when she asked her parents aloud, “So where does all the ham come from?”
Every single person in the room stopped and stared. She heard a young boy snicker, and his father hit him when he did. One of the ladies in the mess hall gave Leslie’s parents an awful glare. It was very clear to everyone that the question should not have been asked.
Her parents tried to make up all sorts of excuses and stories, but Leslie knew. On some level, she had always known. She knew there was no room where plants were grown, no room where animals were kept. There was only the freezer, and she knew that there was no way that the small freezer and storage held enough food for all these years. She had even heard a holotape once explaining how the animals were dying and they didn’t know what to do next. She even knew, even then, that it sort of explained The Crazies that the people sometimes got after eating. What she didn’t know, was how they chose which people to eat.
When she got older, and the stigma of cannibalism was removed, it was revealed to her that there was a drawing. Apparently the drawing was every six months, and several names were drawn. The kitchen would then be responsible for making those people last as long as possible before another name had to be drawn. Once she was older, this was more of a normal occurrence. The children were kept from the idea because it was still thought to be traumatc to some degree, but just like sex, it had to be talked about at some point. And so it became a normal thing. Sometimes people would disappear and everyone would understand their sacrifice. Some tried to forget, but most thanked God in their prayers that they were given more food and more life to live. The few for the many.
Then, one day, the vault opened.
Imagine the hysteria. Scouts came back with stories of plentiful amouns of the things people are supposed to eat; crops and animals. Immediately the vault was divided. Enter this brave new world and find new food sources, or stay here and eat their brethren. Many decided to leave the vault, but those who stayed faced a terrible fate.
No longer was cannibalism a sacrifice neccisary for survival, but a pleasure too deep to forfeit. Pro-cannibals swarmed the Overseers office and the kitchen, and they reveled in their feasts. Abductions were no longer quiet, but open celebrations of human flesh. The victims were bled in public before being taken to the butcher’s room. Anyone who dared interfere was taken next. Some even bragged about how good their meals tasted. Others, like Leslie’s family, would eat in silence, and forever regret not taking the opportunity to leave. Deserters were always served for Dessert.
One day, Leslie’s family sat her down, and explained how they believed they shouldn’t eat people anymore; not like this. They begged her to leave, and they would help her leave and correct their mistakes. She agreed. But sadly, that wouldn’t be the case. Before anything could be done with that plan, the men from the kitchen showed up at their door. The family was dragged out as everyone applauded and cheered. Leslie watched as they used butcher knives to make cuts on her parents’ skin. She could hardly feel it when they cut her, save for the blood streaming down her little arms.
She was twelve years old.
They brought her to the storage room. It was dark, but warm. She thought she would be killed, but the kitchen knew she would have so much more meat on her bones in a few years. They kept her in the storage room by herself. No one that young had ever been kept as a meal before, so she was alone. The chefs would feed her but she wouldn’t eat. She didn’t want to risk eating what was left of her parents. She wanted to honor their choices. Day after day she skipped meals, spending her time scratching enginnering plans and circuit board layouts into the walls, whatever she could remember. Time passed so slowly in there, or was it passing by fast?
Eventually, she had to eat. She was so hungry, starving. She felt like her stomach would implode if she didn’t. She sank her teeth into the juicy red meat, revelling in its satisfaction. But amidst the meat was something hard and cold, too cold to be bone.
It was a ring. A wedding ring. Her mothers.
She kept eating.
Her ghoulishness impressed the kitchen. She was allowed to leave the storage room to go to the freezer, and the place they cut the meat. With each passing day, she spent more time outside. Sometimes the butcher would allow her to watch the killing process. “You bleed them dry first. Alive.” The butcher would say. Time and time again she would watch these men kill the inhabitants of the vault, she watch as they were dissected, the good parts kept, the bad parts thrown away.
And one day it changed again. Heroes from the wasteland, the deserters of the vault and those joining the cause, stormed the vault, freeing inhabitants and ending perpetrators. They killed the butcher and the men in the kitchen and took Leslie away. Away from the vault and the storage room she called home. They took her away but she didn’t want to go. When they left the vault she ran from them. Because
All Leslie had ever known, was the vault. Its creaks and groans from wear and tear, its long, echoey hallways, the comforts of its enclosing walls. It was always home.
Roleplay Scenario: Time: 3:18 P.M. Location: 14 miles South of Niagara
As you're walking north along a desolate highway when you spot two large black birds circling in the sky in the distance. To the east, large thunderheads loom on the horizon. Hopeful to avoid the storm, you begin to walk a bit more briskly; scanning the area to find shelter from the radioactive downpour. You observe a small light grey smoke plume coming from the median of the highway only a couple hundred meters away. Before approaching the scene, you take a quick look in your bag (below is a list of your items). As you approach the scene, you can see that it is a Merchant Caravan that has been hit, likely by raiders. The merchant lies bloody and beaten to death near a slaughtered Brahman, blood covers his clothing and a box of items is scattered near him. Of the two guards, one lies near a jersey barrier; empty shell casings from her caravan shotgun scattered around her corpse. The other guard is struggling to pull himself upright using the one of the carts wheels, his left leg had been blown off below the shin and is now nothing but a bloody mix of singed skin and asphalt.
Bag contents:
1x 10mm Pistol
4x 10mm Pistol rounds
1x bottle of dirty water
2x Mentants
1x Salisbury steak
1x Squirrel on a stick
1x small radio (functional)
1x Stimpak
1x Half-used first aid kit (missing supplies)
What do you do?: (this is all under the pretense that my radio is not two-way)
Leslie ran over to the injured guard, fumbling for her own pistol as she did.
“Look, I’m just gonna help you, okay? But no sudden movements!” she screamed.
She then dropped her gun and reached for the First Aid Kit, trying desperately to patch the man as he faded in and out of consciousness. She had just enough gauze to cover most of the woudn, and she took off her outer shirt and tied it around the man’s leg, hoping to stop some of the bleeding.
She surveyed her surroundings. She couldn’t believe that the raiders wouldn’t take the bodies for food. She was only just beginning to understand just how deep a crime cannibalism was to everyone outside the vault. Not even the criminals ate people.
The man she was attempting to tend to collapsed completely. She had done what she could to stop the bleeding, but knew that the men needed desperate medical attention. A doctor’s bag would have what she needed to clean and cover the wound. She moved to the caravan, half hoping to find something to help the man, half hoping to find supplies for herself.. She scavenged for all the items she could, then looked at the body of the other guard. Blood was still fresh. Wounds needed to be cleaned, but still…
After a bit more scavenging, and resolving that the merchant was also very dead, she woke up the first guard by injecting a stimpak into his thigh. The resulting speed in blood pressure snapped him back into a groggy consciousness. Leslie helped the man to his leg and began to hobble away from the caravan with him.
“…cara…caravan…” he mumbled.
“Don’t worry,” she said as she patted her now blood-soaked bag. “We won’t forget their sacrifice.”
Well even if the beta is ending, the character is still good for when the server actually opens
Click on the damn dragon! I'll give you tacos!