Why us? Because you are the Most organized fallout representation i have seen on this forum
Did you read the rules?: Yeah.
What is your RP exprience (No */10): 8
Name: Bob Flemmings
Skills: One of the best speed shooters out there, with lots of camping experience.
Personality: I am a Hasty son of a beach. Can't stand anyone unless I have to.
Looks: Scared face with shades covering my eyes. Tall and skinny. Highly fit, capable of running a marathon. A facemask covering my nose.
Backstory(At least 2 paragraphs): I have came from the far mountains of New mexico, kicked out of many cities, never have been liked by any town. Joined the raiders once, but they stuck me with the newfags. When we went up against a small legion search party, they all got spears threw their bodies, i was sickened, but I got my hunting rifle shot the head off of the lot of them. As a trophy, I took their ears, and their weapons. Sold them to the nearest town, Albequrque, and was on my way. I heard about some sort of city called New Vegas in the Mojave desert from the traders in Hobbs.
I took off immediately looking for gambling and sex. I went threw Legion controlled Arizona taking their weapons and armor just to make mine the best. I disguised as a Legionairre to get threw the most populated cities making sure to not get caught, but he was found and thrown in jail losing everything. My jail-mate was heading the same way as i was so we kept talking, keeping my selfish ways to myself. We killed the guards and kept going. But we have not known that the Legion was very precautionary, seeing as though they set a few mines we were not ready for. My jail-mate had his leg blown right off and i tried to save him with what stimpacks the guards had but it was futile. I took off to New Vegas as fast as i could. When i got there my armor destroyed my gun severely damaged my ammo almost depleted and started a new man, no one knew my intentions, no one knew me.
Rp dialogue (At least 1 logical paragraphs):
A diagologue between Me and a Legion officer.,
I: Time for you're death.
Officer: What? who? Where are you?!
I: *bolt action sound* Good bye. Officer: ****! *death*
Doesn't matter for me account is being a piece of crap...Can't get on to Minecraft.com, can get into SpoutCraft, Minecraft...I think my account is busted or something...If anything, I might have to make a new account ;_;
Looks: Long dirty blonde hair, tall, as of entrance to the Wild Wasteland world wearing a dirty vault suit from a dead vault dweller(read backstory for story)
Backstory(At least 2 paragraphs): A former Enclave member, Doyle left what was left of the Enclave in what was pre-war Toronto, Canada after his father's death in a Vertibird crash. Other members of the Enclave became suspicious of him, and broke into his room to read his journal, where he wrote plans of his escape. When they confronted him, he ran. He ran into the interrogation room, took the first article of clothing he saw(which happened to be a vault suit taken from already dead interrogation victim, and headed out to the world. He decided to follow the first river he saw, in hopes that it would leave him to civilization. 3-4 hours into the journey, he slipped on a rock and fell into the river, washing up near a Great Lake. He was found by a hunter from a local town, and taken back there, where he was called 'Upriver' by the locals. He decided to settle down in the town, and worked repairing the local bank and bypassing the Old World security system, thanks to skills he learned with the Enclave.
Eventually, word traveled to the town about New Vegas and it's Pre War glory, and Doyle left with a caravan to head there.
As of his entrance to the Fallout:Aftermath! universe, he has just now departed with the caravan and is looking to start a new life.
Rp dialogue (At least 1 logical paragraphs): The man walked into the village, his vault suit dirty and patched up, the moonlight barely illuminating his path. He stepped up to the first house he saw that looked occupied and knocked on the door. Knock. Knock. Again. After a few minutes, he got a response. The door flew wide open to show a elderly woman with a bedhead. "What do you want?" she shouted. "Uh" said Doyle, stunned. "I need a place to stay for the night, is there a bed for rent around here?" "That two story building up there with the orange sign will rent you one for 20 caps, good night" she responded, slamming the door and bolt locking it. As Doyle walked towards the bed he hoped to be sleeping in tonight, he thought of how much 10 caps would set him back.
OOC: Ign: stevefox74 Age: 13 - Don't look down on me, if you are. Why us? I have NEVER tried a fallout/zombie server. You're the first server to be noticed by me. That's why I handpicked you. No other valid reasons. Did you read the rules?: Oh yes. We have to Save the Mojave! We have to go deep underground and into the temple of Alimour to do so! What is your RP exprience (No */10): 8/10. I am unsure myself too. I can re-rate myself if you/I think I'm bad.
IC: Name: StevenFox
Skills: Adept Archery, Weak at guns, Logical Sense, Quick Reactions
Personality: Usually calm, easily on guard. Usually stays at a good distance from females. "Seductive looks can kill." He says.
Looks: Brown Hair, Wears a blue jacket, red tie. The usual for a man. Jet black jeans that stretch to his feet. A belt for it to stay on. Cosmic red boots. Doesn't fit at all but he adores this pair of shoe.
Backstory : "Zombies don't exist." Steven's father said to him.. 3 years ago. The nuclear war turned the world around. A whole new age began. A few days before that existed, Steven was a growing teenager then. Had good friends. Not the best but good enough. His family is poor. They ate edible grass everyday with corn soup they farm. They lived on the fertile plains outside the city of Lunar. Steven's family held enough gold coins to send him to school everyday in hopes for him to success. Yet, no matter how they hope, it wasn't achieved.
10.30am, school time. Steven was concentrating on class unlike other students who looked rather bored and uninterested. It was a history class. Indeed Steven took interest in the history of how the city of Lunar fought back enemies and forged alliances. Then, a boom in the distance. An explosion. Very loud, it wasn't like other bombs, this one is powerful. Enough to wipe out planet Craft itself. Steven was taken into an underground bunker to stay protected with other men and women. Taking interest in archery, Steven learned to shoot his first arrow straight at the age of 16. Mastered easily at 17. Then, the bunker was no more. It was founded by the zombies, as they call it. Holding back his tears, an arrow sweep past through Steven's mother's head, ultimately killing it.
This is a different world now, far than he expected. And he knew he had to adapt to it. Fallout as they call this age. Interesting it seems. "Well, its just another hunting story for a good sir." He says and he departs with his fellow friends to the barrens.
Rp dialogue :
"Hey Steven, you okay?"
"I'm fine, don't touch me." Steven mumbled and brushes away Mirela's hand on his shoulder. That lightning tingling you get when a girl touches you is annoying.
"We delay no more, let's move on." Rick ordered, pulling Steven up.
"You want me to lend a hand?" Mirela extends her hand towards Steven's as if to reach for it.
"Keep it to yourself." Steven backed off, new to these helping thing. Mirela giggled.
"What's so funny?" Steven asked as he walked off to catch up with Rick. And so is Mirela, with an outstanding temptation to laugh for no reason.
Why us?: I enjoy the Fallout lore and the staff working on this server.
Did you read the rules?: Yes
What is your RP exprience (No */10): 7/10 I've been in a few other RP servers before and have played Fallout 3 and the last 3 Elder Scrolls games.
Name: Gerryck Vos
Skills: Survivalist, Accurate at a distance, Decent mountaineer
Personality: Skeptical, Wary, Intolerant, Silent
Looks: Dark hair, Blue eyes, Unshaven
Backstory(At least 2 paragraphs): Gerryck was born into an unorganized tribe of cave dwelling bandits in the badlands of the Mojave. As a child he was taught to steal, hunt and kill anything that got between him and survival. After being accused of stealing the tribe leaders prized possession, the helm from an NCR Officer, he was cast out on his own. He lived in the ruined houses that scattered the Mojave and survived off of the materials he found inside. At age 19 he saw for the first time the large city of New Vegas. He heard about it as a child, imagining a gleaming fortress made of gold. His childhood hopes had been crushed, as he realized that even thought New Vegas was the jewel of the Mojave, that it too had been ruined by years of violence and corruption.
He decided to stay away from the city, factions and citizens that inhabit the Mojave, knowing that any goals to "save the Mojave" and things of that nature were both foolish and fatal. He
hunted to stay alive, eating and selling their flesh to support himself. As time goes on though, he may find himself fighting for his survival.
Rp dialogue (At least 1 logical paragraphs):
Gerryck: *Speaking to self* Well well, looks like I have myself a trespasser...
*Gerryck starts walking towards the man, hand on a pistol in his holster*
Gerryck: Hey! Get out of here!
*Trespasser whips out a revolver and fires three rounds, one hitting Gerryck in the hand, causing him to drop his gun*