Why us? I am tired of joining servers that are incomplete but look awesome and then something happens and they die. You guys were on the front page so I figured I'd scribble down an app.
Did you read the rules?: Save the mojave! (yes)
What is your RP exprience (No */10): I played on Assassin's creep until it turned into a ghost town.
Name: Jacob Wilkes
Skills: Talking himself out of a bad situation, ripping people off during trade, concealed weapons use
Personality: He may seem like an overly sarcastic asshole at first, but when you get to know him he is actually a pretty nice guy.
Looks: Tall, thin, he has a square face (See what I did there?). He is also light skinned with dark hair.
Backstory(At least 2 paragraphs): Jacob was born 21 years ago in a small town and had a relatively boring childhood. Unlike seemingly everyone around he wasn't an orphan, gifted with amazing skills, or any other serious hardships. He spent most of his time tricking other kids out of their allowance by selling things he had salvaged from parts of the abandoned shacks and such near his town.
As he got older his fascination with the wasteland grew. One day he was out looking for the hidden treasures of the desert when he saw a group of nomads. Where most people would see a group of thirsty, poor, and tired travelers he saw an adventure waiting to happen. He went home, packed his things, and kissed his mother goodbye, he was about to begin the most important thing he would ever do (except, maybe, for being born.) Jacob began his march to New Vegas (or wherever this server is located, the op wasn't very descriptive).
Rp dialogue (At least 1 logical paragraphs):
Jacob: Hello kind sir, may I interest you in this radio, in near perfect condition?
Random gentleman: **** off scrapper, I know your games.
Jacob: But that's where you are wrong, have a listen.
*Jacob tunes the radio to a local announcement but shuts it off halfway through.
Random gentleman: Hmm, I guess this could be useful, how much?
Jacob: Only 20 caps
Random gentleman: I'll take it.
*Jacob sneaks off before the man realizes the radio only tune to that one public broadcast station.
Why us? I'm a huge fan of the Fallout games and universe. I have played 3 and New Vegas extensively (New Vegas especially) and a fair share of the original two.
Did you read the rules?: Yes!
What is your RP exprience (No */10): Years and years ago I spent a lot of time on the Runescape RP forums (I was very active), and for two years I played on WoW's Moonguard server in my off time. I may be a little shabby, but I have experience.
Skills: Survival! He's certainly handy with a pistol, but you really need to be to survive in the Mojave. Scavenging.
Personality: Quiet, but not shy. He's not the most sociable guy, but that's because he's not spent a lot of time amongst society. He finds life in settlements to be too boring and finds his kicks wandering from place to place. No aversion to working with small groups, but doesn't find it necessary.
Looks: Not too shabby. Trimmed beard and short brown hair. Wears a brown leather jacket over a white shirt and brown pants. Takes good care of himself, no real distinguishable marks.
Backstory(At least 2 paragraphs): Since the age of ninteen, Cyle has lived on his own. His father taught him at a young age how to defend himself against the dangers of the Mojave and to be cautious with the denizens of the waste. He left the shabby shack he and his father lived in and set off for solitude. He wanders the waste for pleasure, gathering pieces of the old world.
He's had a keen interest in old world since he was a child. Old computer terminals, old notes and pictures, the whole works. He has a small collection of things with him and strives to be the Mojave's foremost expert on the world before the blast.
Rp dialogue (At least 1 logical paragraphs): (Sorry in advance. Random monologues are not my forte.) Lookin' through bones prob'ly isn't everyone's idea of fun, but sure as hell entertains me. I love findin' out about old folks and the way they lived. I mean, think about it. A world where everybody's always dressed nice, workin' in factories and cookin'. Settlin' down with kids havin' no worries of flyin' stingers or giant riipper beasts. Life sure was good. Beats this, no doubt.
Edit: Save the Mojave!
Sorry, I spent a while thinking up the character and completely forgot to add that in.
Your character has leadership even though he's never led a thing in his life?
Burned down whole towns, robbed them and killed there traders? And then a courier managed to get the better of you?
That makes no sense and isn't realistic at all.
Why us?: The title really caught my attention as most fallout rp servers around here are a bust.
Did you read the rules?: Yes
What is your RP exprience (No */10): I roleplay on many servers, but I have lately been inactive on minecraft to do some hl2rp on garrysmod, and a bit of serious roleplaying on DayZ. (Hard to find those servers)
Personality: A quiet man that seems very quick-to-the-point and anxious. He has a rough edge to his voice but on the inside is very fearful.
Looks: Dark brown medium length hair, rather muscular, tends to wear black, pale.
Backstory(At least 2 paragraphs): Jason grew up traveling between Nevada and Arizona. His family owned 2 houses, one just north of Las Vegas, the other Just south of Phoenix, he lived basically a double life, one year in Arizona, the other in Nevada. By the time he was 16, he couldn't keep a job because he moved areas too quickly, shortening his stay to 3 months at a time, he began breaking into houses and taking whatever he could to sell. At last he was caught. On the dreadful night of January 16th 2005, he decided to test his skill, and break into a large mansion. The mansion was owned by a rather big tycoon owner named John Young. He managed to find an open window on the 3rd floor, and climb up to the window and vault in. He crept through the building finding an awake John, John quickly spots him and scrambles for his phone, Jason grabbed the nearest item, which happened to be a lamp, and rushed through the room, before bashing John's head in with the lamp. 911 had just responded with "We are sending an emergency dispatch, don't worry.
Jason responded immediately, dashing for the window, tripping over the frame, landing hard on the grass, just as the dispatch rolled up. He crawled into the gardeners shed and grabbed a weedwhacker, he gripped it and faced the door with it ready. An emergency response unit busted the door open, and Jason automatically reacted, whacking the unit over the face with the weed whacker, the unit crying out in pain, fired into Jason. Jason hits the floor, in what seems like seconds, is in the prison infirmary, and a few more seconds later as it seems, a cell. He is sentenced to 15 years for assault on an officer, assault, attempted murder, attempted theft, and trespassing. As time goes on, a nuclear war breaks out, he exits the prison in nothing but the rags of his jumpsuit and wanders into the wasteland.
Rp dialogue (At least 1 logical paragraphs):
"The world.. it's a pile of ****." Max said to Jason
"What the hell happened while I was in prison?" Jason asked in a dream-like manner.
"Just a small nuclear warfare, nothing big, don't try that **** at home." Max replied chuckling.
"So.. are we the only ones left?" Jason questioned.
"Hell no! If WE survived, there's bound to be others who did."
"You're right I guess.."
"You guess? Of course I'm right!"
"Yeah, alright, let's head north, maybe we can get to Vegas."
Why us?: As stated in one of the first sentences of the server; this server appears to be the most accurate server dedicated to Fallout roleplay. I'm a fan of the Fallout Universe, although finishing neither Fallout 3, or Fallout: New Vegas, I feel as if I have a novice understanding of whats 'going on'.
Did you read the rules?: Of course. SAVE THE MOJAVE!
What is your RP exprience (No */10): 8/10
Name: Cav Dubuste
Skills: Strong upper body strength
Personality: Rude, Manipulative
Looks: Tanned and Poorly shaven
Backstory(At least 2 paragraphs): Cav was raised by a pair of travellers on one of the many caravan's travelling the Mojave wastes. Tasked often with carrying the supplies of the caravan up and down the line of carts, old cars, and animals; this led to Cav acquiring formidable upper body strength; as a con to this, Cav quickly became bored, and got into fighting with the other travellers, developing a rude and obnoxious attitude.
The caravan that Cav travelled with, relied on a small group of there personnel called the Forerunners. The Forerunners were tasked with scouting ahead of the caravan, and to each of it's flanks; to assess the area, and to warn of any danger. Cav; always a eager young man, volunteered for forerunner duty, given a large machete, and a old revolver, he went out to scout for the caravan.
Upon return to his mobile home, he found the wreckage of half the caravan, the remaining carts, carts which wreckage was no where to be seen, were missing.
Cav now searches for these caravans.
Rp dialogue (At least 1 logical paragraphs):
Cav pushes open the door to the bar, the hinges of western style doors opening and closing rapidly. "What can I get ye'?" The old coot of a barman says, spitting saliva onto a glass, rubbing it clean. Cav grunts, uninterested in the barman, the offer of beverages, even the majority of the patrons in the bar.
Cav's gaze moves to the left hand corner of the bar, in a car cutout, to become a booth seat. He sat there, One Eyed Bill; a man whom was responsible for Cav's caravan (read bio). Cav approached the One Eyed bandit; the accomplice of Bill calmly placing his hand over the old shotgun that rests across his lap. Bill raises his head, looking through his monocle that covers his only healthy eye. "What can I do for you, stranger?"
Cav smiled, placing his hand on the hips, slowly moving his hand behind to his back, of which a holster that holds the revolver that was commissioned to Cav upon volunteering for forerunner duty in his caravan.
"I require nothing of you"
Cav removes his left hand from his hip, clipping the one eyed bandit's accomplice across the face, then reaching for his shotgun, placing it under his chin, and blasting his jaw off. Bill sat stunned, his mouth gaping, the blood of his accomplice splattered lightly over his face. "Wha.. Wha.. what do you want?"
"I want your head." Cav removed the machete clasped to his thigh, raising it high, bringing it down onto the collar bone of Bill; blood spurting over the bar.
Meanwhile, the barman stood behind Cav.
"Get out!" The barman says, timidly, cocking his 9mm pistol.
Cav nodded to the barman, looking over the crumpled corpse of Bill, and the ghastly face of the accomplice, satisfied Cav leaves.