• 0

    posted a message on Fallout: Scorched Sands | Serious Roleplay | Building Phase

    Oooh, I'm looking forward to this. While I won't be participating in the beta, those of you who played with me in the(first) beta of Shadows will remember the character I'm bringing here. Thank god Shadows failed.

    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on Fallout: Shadows of the Old World | Serious Roleplay | Discontinued

    Out-Of-Character


    IGN: Avellach

    Age (Optional): 16

    Skype name (Optional): baronvondippschitte

    Prior Bans and Reasons: Got banned once for inappropriate use of the N word. I dropped the hard R.

    Define Roleplaying: To act out different situations as a character of one's own creation.

    Define Powergaming: To force one's actions on another. An example: "Billy fires his rifle, striking Joe in the eye and killing him instantly."

    Define Metagaming: To use information gained out-of-character for an in-character advantage.

    Past roleplay experience: I rped in the beta, I'm just migrating away from LotC now, and I've played on a few other mediums like Garry's Mod or Runescape. Kill me now.

    Write any questions you may have here:


    In-Character


    Character Name: Andrew Tuppen

    Race (Human/Ghoul/etc.): Human, caucasian

    Age: 33

    Gender: Male

    Place of Birth: Tent City, formerly known as Manhattan, NY.

    Personality: Andrew's a nice enough guy. He won't steal much more than cigarettes or caps, and won't bother you too much if you tell him to go away. More of a junk rat than anything else, he revels in finding something to stave off the shakes.

    Physical Description: Standing at nearly six feet in height, and weighing about 180 pounds, Andrew's a somewhat muscular fellow, despite the condition of the world. His facial hair grows thick and wiry, a shade darker than his similar hair.

    Picture of Skin (Optional): Y'all seen it around yet.

    Strengths (Physical and/or Mental): Andrew's a fairly strong fellow, with a higher-than-average resistance to radiation(only by a small amount, but it makes a difference over extended periods of irradiation).

    Weaknesses (Physical and/or Mental): When he goes for long periods of time without a smoke(cigarette or cigar, either works), Andrew gets the shakes in his hands. The longer it goes, the further it spreads, until he's practically seizing. To get to the point of the shakes, Andrew needs to go for a bare minimum of 24 irl hours without smoking. Secondarily, he's also addicted to the stuff, which is a con all on its own.

    Fears (Something Substantial): Andrew is very afraid of water that he can't touch his feet to the lake/river/ocean bed in.

    Character Biography (Minimum of two paragraphs):

    Coming from the small Tent City on old Manhattan Island, Andrew Tuppen made his way up to Maine, where he ran into somebody who'd left Tent City long before he had - his older sister, Madison. She'd fallen in with a bad crowd, raiders, and had become one of them. Andrew hardly recognized his sister through the grime and the mohawk she wore like a costume. It was the first and likely only time that Andrew would be treated well by raiders, but he just couldn't stay and deal with their ways.


    So, two short years after he'd met his sister again, he left, taking with him a set of clean clothes and a combat knife. His beard, in the time he was there, had grown into the thick, wiry mess it is today. For another few months, he wandered about, before coming upon another small town - Overpass. From there, he writes his own future.


    Roleplay Example (Try to avoid combat scenarios):


    "Andrew. Where the **** are you going?"


    "Away. You and your buddies.. I ****in' can't anymore, I can't **** up other peoples' lives anymore."


    "Andy! Don't you ****in' leave!"


    "Oh, like you left?"


    There's a sharp silence between the two as Andrew finishes dressing. As his head pokes up through the neck-hole of his new-ish sweatshirt, Andrew casts a glare at his sister - one that could always make her stop talking, because he knew she was getting ready to talk again.


    "Yeah, just like you left," he answers for himself. With a shake of his head, he grabs his canteen, his knife, and his pack of cigarettes, then turns towards the door.


    "Andy, come on, man." Madison is practically begging now. She just doesn't get why Andrew has to leave. "We were separated for, what, five years? Now you're leavin' me?"


    "I'm leaving you and your cavemen. Already told you, I can't ruin lives anymore." He stops in the doorway, his hands on either side of it. "Grow up, Maddy." With that, Andrew departs, leaving to find his place in the desolate north.

    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on From The Ashes Chapter 1: In the Footsteps of Thaer -|- Serious Roleplay -|- Custom Coded -|- Experienced Staff -|- Active -|-

    Out of Character Information

    IGN: Jaybleezy

    Do you wish to join our community Skype chat? If so, what is your Skype username? (This is optional): baronvondippschitte

    Have you read and agreed to both the rules and the lore of the server?: I have, and I do.

    What is the definition of “Powergaming”?: To powergame is to force your roleplay character's actions on other people and to decide how your roleplay affects them.

    What is the definition of “Metagaming”?: To metagame is to use information in-character that you've obtained out-of-character.

    What is the definition of “Roleplay”?: To roleplay is to act as a character of your own creation in a generally fictional setting through text and actions in whatever medium you use to roleplay, in this case, Minecraft.

    Who can use flymod, X-ray and other such clientsided mods?: Uh, me, of course.[/joke] Nobody can.

    When are you allowed to cause the death of another character?: Only when the character's player allows it.

    When are you allowed to speak out of character?: (( In double parenthases)) or in the OOC channel.

    Do you have any previous RP experience, Minecraft or elsewhere? (Optional): Yes, quite a bit, including two high fantasy roleplay servers and one Fallout server. I also have played various roleplay servers on Garry's Mod, but they all really sucked.


    Character Information

    Name: Dhaun'ayl Oussalya

    Age: 22

    Race: Drow

    Physical description: Dhaun is not the beefiest fellow, standing at a mere 5'9" and weighing only 166 pounds. His lean frame carries him quickly to wherever he needs to go, though he mostly walks with a bit of a slouch. His short-cropped maroonish hair compliments his dark, lavender-esque complexion, which is nigh flawless, by the way, and he allows a bit of scruff to grow on his chin and upper lip. His irises almost match his hair, lacking only in fullness of color as a dry dark red. With cheekbones high upon his face, Dhaun looks almost stereotypically elven.

    Screen capture of your skin (I recommend uploading to imgur and posting link here): I don't have an imgur image because it's too slow, but I do have two links to needcoolshoes. Hope these are acceptable.

    http://www.needcoolshoes.com/skin/u4MjX/dhaun039ayl-1-fixed

    http://www.needcoolshoes.com/skin/u4MjL/dhaun039ayl-2

    Biography (Minimum 225 words. Most very fleshed-out characters have around 300, but feel free to use even more than that if you wish. Try and avoid clichés such as loved one being killed by bandits or the like): Dhaun'ayl was born on the road. Never having stayed in a city for more than a few days at a time, Dhaun's parents, Kirren and Ignii, travelled about the province of Beschwall, providing entertainment, drinks, and even transporation to any who sought it. At the young age of five years old, Dhaun learned from his loving parents the art of brewing. By eight, Dhaun could brew an ale and pass it off as his father's(and he did so on multiple occasions). Around the same time, his parents figured him old enough to perform with them. They instructed him in the use of many instruments, from the harpischord to the violin. In another two years, the ten-year-old Dhaun'ayl was accompanying his mother and father in many musical pieces, and even writing his own, on occasion.

    It was on his twelfth birthday when the horses dragging their large cart across the province kicked a rock into one of the axles in the back. His father was busy trying to stabilize the cart, and his mother, pregnant in the back, so he took it upon himself to make his way around the top and to the back and move the axle back into place. He did a fine enough job, and the cart was able to come to a stop without falling over and his father could properly replace the broken part. While his father worked to shape the bits of metal necessary to reattach the thing, Dhaun was busy getting himself a meal. He chased roosters through the fields of wheat, pouncing on them and quickly killing them with a hunting knife he'd bought a few cities back. Returning to the cart with the fruit of his labors, four fresh chickens, he founds his father finished with his work and ready to go. He requested that they stay a while, so he could cook his chicken and have a break from the constant rattling of his spine while riding in that cart. They agreed to stay for the night, and Dhaun happily cooked up the four chickens. The next day, as his parents woke and prepared the cart, they would find that Dhaun had moved from within the cart to sleep in the wheat in the night. As the cart trundled off down the road, Dhaun awoke, and, panicking, ran after, leaving the remaining chicken behind. The cart, only traveling about seven miles an hour, was easily caught up with, especially with Dhaun being so quick. He decided he like running alongside the cart, and about a quarter of the time traveling between cities was spent on foot. At night, he could even outrun the cart, often sprinting ahead to give himself a short breather before carrying on as the cart continued. When Dhaun was almost thirteen, his little sister, who his mother had carried for the standard nine months, was stillborn. It was a damaging blow, but Dhaun and his parents soon got over it, and continued on after two weeks in one city, a first for the family. Two years(and some change) later, on the eve of Dhaun's fifteenth birthday, his mother began to teach him how to fence. It was slow-going, as melee was not his strong suit, nor were precise movements, but before his sixteenth birthday, Dhaun had become an adequate fencer.

    He continued to practice with his mother, nothing too eventful occuring until his nineteenth birthday, when a familiar situation was set in motion. They were traveling along a particularly rocky trail, and a horse, the newest one, kicked up a stone that found its way to the front right axle. This time, however, Dhaun was at the helm, and his father went to climb down and move the part back into place. Losing his footing, Kirren fell beneath the cart, and was crushed beneath both wheels. The cart was sent careening off to the side of the road, tumbling to its side. Ignii was knocked from the cart, landing safely a few feet from the wreck. Dhaun, being stuck between the trail and the remains of the cart, struggled to escape. There was a crashing sound, as Dhaun's own brew fell and broke open, spilling inside of the cart. The candle his mother had been using to read also fell, and ignited the alcohol. The cart became a plume of flames, with Dhaun trapped beneath it. His upper back and left shoulder were burned terribly before he managed to slip from the cart, writhing in the dust. His mother treated the burns and wrapped them, and later sent Dhaun onwards to the nearest homestead to get help while she retrieved his father. He hesitantly obliged, making his way at a relatively sluggish pace to a farmhouse not far from where they'd crashed. He returned to the wreckage with a father and a son, humans, to find Ignii lying against the smoking wreckage, huddled in a ball. It would be a good six months before they managed to find work, and a year and a half after that when his mother was able to buy a small plot of land. A couple months after Dhaun's 21st birthday, he said his goodbyes with his mother to travel to the archipelago province of Enris to aid against the threat in whatever way he can.

    What is your character’s main goal? (Motivation): To provide aid for any who need it in the fight against the Undead.

    Strengths (Both physical and personality): Dhaun'ayl is very fast. His relative shortness allow him gracefully agility, and he is rather adept with the rapier. Dhaun is a happy, caring individual, a happiness that tends to be infectious.

    Weaknesses (Balance out yours character's strengths with suitable weaknesses. Not knowing how to do something that is outside of your class is not a weakness. I.E. Not knowing how to use a bow as a miner.): Dhaun's size does not afford him great strength, and he finds himself unable to lift or carry objects or people over 175 pounds, give or take. He is an impatient person, and isn't too interested in becoming some grand intellectual. He often finds himself unable to deal with particularly stupid people, and when his patience wears thin, he loses all sense of a speech filter he has. He has terrible aim, and ranged weapons escape him.

    What is your character's personality? (Optional; use this field to note character traits that you feel don't fit into either strengths or weaknesses if you wish): N/A, pretty much all covered.

    Bonus Language (Caro is free): Arturan


    Character Traits (up to 7 points worth):
    Brewer - 1 point
    Fleet II - 2 points
    Leap - 1
    Simple Weapons Proficiency - 1 point
    Martial Weapons Prificiency - 1 point
    Musician - 1 point

    Drow Racial Trait - Night Friend

    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on Fallout: Shadows of the Old World | Serious Roleplay | Discontinued

    Uh.. hello? It's been a little while. Am I approved, or rejected? Not trying to rush anyone, but my other ones were answered in.. less than 24 hours? It's been four days, this time. Just getting a bit.. antsy, is all.

    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on Fallout: Shadows of the Old World | Serious Roleplay | Discontinued

    OOC:


    IGN: Jaybleezy

    Age (Optional): N/A. I am eternal.

    Skype name (Optional for the group chat/faction chats): Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, okay, fine. Baronvondippschitte.

    Time Zone: PDT

    Prior Bans and reasons: I once got a warning point on the LotC forums for making a KKK joke. Dunno if that counts.

    Define Role-play: Life. Roleplay is pretty much acting as a character of your own creation, who interacts with other characters, played by and created by other people in a fictitious setting.

    Define Powergaming: Powergaming is, in essence, playing a character who's automatically better than everyone else, or forcing an action to go a certain way, like saying that you struck someone in the head with a sword, decapitating them.

    Define Metagaming: Metagaming. Eugh. Using information of some kind that you yourself have obtained OOCly, but you wouldn't know ICly, ICly.

    Previous roleplay experience: Played on a small roleplay server before. Was noob. Play on LotC now. Am less noob.

    Previous Fallout experience: Bits of the original two, Tactics, Brotherhood of Steel, 3, and New Vegas.

    Have you read the rules?: I have. You can't escape, all that shadowy jazz.

    Write any further questions here: Can I have admin? [/joke]


    IC:


    Character Name: Elizabeth Angela Garten, goes by Beth or Libby.

    Age: 23

    Gender: Female

    Race (Human or ghoul): Filthy smoothskin

    Ethnicity (Self Explanatory): Caucasian-Hispanic

    Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): Don't have a screenshot, but I've got the next best thing.I'm having issues with changing skins at the moment, it'll be resolved by the time this is up and running. She has dirty, knotted brown hair that falls over her eyes in the front but almost shows skin at the top of the neck. She wears a large, worn overcoat, beneath it a torn and beaten hoodie. Her legs are covered by lightly ripped, faded blue jeans and dusty sneakers. She's a good 5-foot one-and-a-half, weighing roughly 100 lbs.

    Strengths: Libby likes people. Some would say she speaks and acts to gain people's favor. In other words, she has a way with them. With eyes and ears keen like some hawk-cat mutant creature that likely exists somewhere, Libby's ability to perceive the world around her through sight and sound are phenomenal.

    Weaknesses: Libby is weak like a mouse. She has a hard time lifting heavy guns, and shooting them is out of the question. With a rather frail little form, she also can't move all too quickly or acrobatically.

    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: 10
    • Endurance: 3
    • Charisma: 8
    • Intelligence: 7
    • Agility: 3
    • Luck: 6


    Character Biography: Elizabeth was born to the happy young couple of David and Maya Garten, and raised by them in a nicer part of Niagra. She grew to love people, and cherish the survival of humanity like it was the second coming of Christ(whom she doesn't believe to be real). With this, she also developed a strong distaste for raiders and slavers, and believes that it's the obligation of everyone living in Niagra, even the Brotherhood of Steel, to fight and destroy these monsters of man. At ten years old, Beth was rooting around in her parents' things when she found an old cassette tape. Not having anything to play it in, Beth stowed it into her pockets, and it stayed on her person for a long while. When she was fifteen, she finally managed to nab an old eight-track player, and finally got to listen to her prized possession. It was a collection of The Ink Spots, with the songs "If I Didn't Care", "Address Unknown", "My Prayer", "Bless You", "Maybe", "Java Jive", "Do I Worry?", and "So Sorry". She fell in love with the tape all over again. At seventeen, Beth decided to leave Niagra to travel to the Pacific Northwest, wanting to see what lie in the old Oregon. She didn't make it more than 100 miles before turning back, the journey slow and trying. Upon her return, two weeks from her eighteenth birthday, she found her parents in a makeshift intensive care, dying of radiation poisoning. She didn't stay with them, instead returning home to isolate herself. In the next few days, she was contacted by one of the doctors. She said that her mother had survived and was in recovery, but her father had fallen victim to the toxicity of his own blood.


    Two years later, after her twentieth birthday, Beth's mother was fully recovered, from both the radiation and the loss of her husband. Her and Beth made a new home in a more run-down part of Niagra, which led to Beth's mother being mugged and killed in the street on night. Left without any support, Beth couldn't keep a home, and was forced to live under whatever could protect her from the weather for the next uneventful three years.


    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?:


    Grimacing at the thunderheads in the distance, Libby turns her head back towards the scene before her. As the hired gun squirms and screams, grasping at where his leg once was, Libby shakes her head. She strides towards the fellow, looking about the area in case the vile destroyers of prosperity that did this were still around. Seeing no signs, she bends down next to him, going to take one of his hands.

    "Shh. Shh. Calm down. Caaaaalm down." She continues to softly coo to the man, as she squeezes his hand. Eventually, he either comes to his senses or loses enough blood to stop crying out in agony. He looks up to her through lidded eyes, and Libby reaches a hand down to her pack to grab the mentats within. "Here," she says, popping them into her hand and dropping them into his. "Take these, yeah?" She looks down to his leg, wincing lightly. "I'm sorry this happened to you," she says as he takes the mentats and pops them into his mouth with shaky hands. With a look back down to the leg, she realizes that there's no saving this fellow. Libby slowly withdraws the pistol from the inside of her belt. taking a round and slipping it into the empty clip within.


    "You're not gonna make it. One way or another, you're gonna die today." She shakes her head. "I can make it quick for you, if you want." Without waiting for an answer or giving any hint of it, she brings the pistol up to his forehead, squeezing the trigger with an inaudible whimper. Afterwards, she looks around, leaning over to retrieve the box o' stuff. Libby sighs again as she looks to the now-closer thunderheads, making for a downed section of the highway to take cover in.

    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on Fallout: Shadows of the Old World | Serious Roleplay | Discontinued

    Drat. I'll get to work on another one right away.


    Edit: Here we are. Fixed it up.


    OOC:


    IGN: Jaybleezy

    Age (Optional): N/A. I am eternal.

    Skype name (Optional for the group chat/faction chats): Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, okay, fine. Baronvondippschitte.

    Time Zone: PDT

    Prior Bans and reasons: I once got a warning point on the LotC forums for making a KKK joke. Dunno if that counts.

    Define Role-play: Life. Roleplay is pretty much acting as a character of your own creation, who interacts with other characters, played by and created by other people in a fictitious setting.

    Define Powergaming: Powergaming is, in essence, playing a character who's automatically better than everyone else, or forcing an action to go a certain way, like saying that you struck someone in the head with a sword, decapitating them.

    Define Metagaming: Metagaming. Eugh. Using information of some kind that you yourself have obtained OOCly, but you wouldn't know ICly, ICly.

    Previous roleplay experience: Played on a small roleplay server before. Was noob. Play on LotC now. Am less noob.

    Previous Fallout experience: Bits of the original two, Tactics, Brotherhood of Steel, 3, and New Vegas.

    Have you read the rules?: I have. You can't escape, all that shadowy jazz.

    Write any further questions here: Can I have admin? [/joke]


    IC:


    Character Name: Libby Angela Garten

    Age: 17

    Gender: *checks shirt*

    Race (Human or ghoul): Filthy smoothskin

    Ethnicity (Self Explanatory): Caucasian-Hispanic

    Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): Don't have a screenshot, but I've got the next best thing.I'm having issues with changing skins at the moment, it'll be resolved by the time this is up and running. She has dirty, knotted brown hair that falls over her eyes in the front but almost shows skin at the top of the neck. She wears a large, worn overcoat, beneath it a torn and beaten hoodie. Her legs are covered by lightly ripped, faded blue jeans and dusty sneakers. She's a good 5-foot one-and-a-half, weighing roughly 100 lbs.

    Strengths: Libby likes people. Some would say she speaks and acts to gain people's favor. In other words, she has a way with them. With eyes and ears keen like some hawk-cat mutant creature that likely exists somewhere, Libby's ability to perceive the world around her through sight and sound are phenomenal.

    Weaknesses: Libby is weak like a mouse. She has a hard time lifting heavy guns, and shooting them is out of the question. With a rather frail little form, she also can't move all too quickly or acrobatically.

    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: 10
    • Endurance: 3
    • Charisma: 8
    • Intelligence: 7
    • Agility: 3
    • Luck: 6

    Character Biography (Please include at least two quality paragraphs): Libby is a young woman from the Niagra Republic. Or, was, before she departed from Niagra to find her own way at the ripe age of fifteen. She didn't make it very far, and quickly turned back to head home again. She never took up residence in Niagra, staying out in the flats for the most part. After two years of being consistently bothered by raiders, she decided to move back in, hoping for no more than something to cover her from the toxic rains.


    Before the age of fifteen, nothing notable happened. She was born to David and Maya Garten in a nice section of Niagra, and the three of them lived relatively happily. Libby grew up to love spending time with people, also developing a taste for old pre-War music. She was rooting around in the town's storage one night when, at ten years old, she found her first tape. She immediately took it home and showed it to her parents, who recognized it and chastised her for stealing. But, recognizing also her interest in the music, they managed to talk some of their friends into getting her an old tape player and around nine album tapes. For the next five years, she wore the albums out, and now she's always on the hunt for new solid gold oldies.


    When Libby returned at 17, she found that her parents had both passed away, from radiation poisoning or wild creatures of something. She hadn't spoken to them in a while, so she didn't care all too much, even if it dampened her spirits a tad. At this point, she lives under whatever protects her from toxic rains. be it an old wooden shack, tin roofing, or a gutter.


    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?:


    Grimacing at the thunderheads in the distance, Libby turns her head back towards the scene before her. As the hired gun squirms and screams, grasping at where his leg once was, Libby shakes her head. She strides towards the fellow, looking about the area in case the vile destroyers of prosperity that did this were still around. Seeing no signs, she bends down next to him, going to take one of his hands.

    "Shh. Shh. Calm down. Caaaaalm down." She continues to softly coo to the man, as she squeezes his hand. Eventually, he either comes to his senses or loses enough blood to stop crying out in agony. He looks up to her through lidded eyes, and Libby reaches a hand down to her pack to grab the mentats within. "Here," she says, popping them into her hand and dropping them into his. "Take these, yeah?" She looks down to his leg, wincing lightly. "I'm sorry this happened to you," she says as he takes the mentats and pops them into his mouth with shaky hands. With a look back down to the leg, Libby slowly withdraws the pistol from the inside of her belt. taking a round and slipping it into the empty clip within.


    "You're not gonna make it. One way or another, you're gonna die today." She shakes her head. "I can make it quick for you, if you want." Without waiting for an answer or giving any hint of it, she brings the pistol up to his forehead, squeezing the trigger with an inaudible whimper. Afterwards, she looks around, leaning over to retrieve the box o' stuff. Libby sighs again as she looks to the now-closer thunderheads, making for a downed section of the highway to take cover in.


    (( Bit confused on what my bio is supposed to be, now. She's only seventeen, so childhood is pretty much all she's experienced. Unless I'm supposed to put her personality there..?))

    Posted in: PC Servers
  • 0

    posted a message on Fallout: Shadows of the Old World | Serious Roleplay | Discontinued

    Here goes the next few years of my life. This, coupled with LotC? Gawd, I'll be living in my mother's basement in no time.


    OOC:


    IGN: Jaybleezy

    Age (Optional): N/A. I am eternal.

    Skype name (Optional for the group chat/faction chats): Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, okay, fine. Baronvondippschitte.

    Time Zone: PDT

    Prior Bans and reasons: I once got a warning point on the LotC forums for making a KKK joke. Dunno if that counts.

    Define Role-play: Life. Roleplay is pretty much acting as a character of your own creation, who interacts with other characters, played by and created by other people in a fictitious setting.

    Define Powergaming: Powergaming is, in essence, playing a character who's automatically better than everyone else, or forcing an action to go a certain way, like saying that you struck someone in the head with a sword, decapitating them.

    Define Metagaming: Metagaming. Eugh. Using information of some kind that you yourself have obtained OOCly, but you wouldn't know ICly, ICly.

    Previous roleplay experience: Played on a small roleplay server before. Was noob. Play on LotC now. Am less noob.

    Previous Fallout experience: Bits of the original two, Tactics, Brotherhood of Steel, 3, and New Vegas.

    Have you read the rules?: I have. You can't escape, all that shadowy jazz.

    Write any further questions here: Can I have admin? [/joke]


    IC:


    Character Name: Libby Angela Garten

    Age: 17

    Gender: *checks shirt*

    Race (Human or ghoul): Filthy smoothskin

    Ethnicity (Self Explanatory): Caucasian-Hispanic

    Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): Don't have a screenshot, but I've got the next best thing. I'm having issues with changing skins at the moment, it'll be resolved by the time this is up and running. She has dirty, knotted brown hair that falls over her eyes in the front but almost shows skin at the top of the neck. She wears a large, worn overcoat, beneath it a torn and beaten hoodie. Her legs are covered by lightly ripped, faded blue jeans and dusty sneakers. She's a good 5-foot one-and-a-half, weighing roughly 100 lbs.

    Strengths: Libby likes people. Some would say she speaks and acts to gain people's favor. In other words, she has a way with them. With eyes and ears keen like some hawk-cat mutant creature that likely exists somewhere, Libby's ability to perceive the world around her through sight and sound are phenomenal.

    Weaknesses: Libby is weak like a mouse. She has a hard time lifting heavy guns, and shooting them is out of the question. With a rather frail little form, she also can't move all too quickly or acrobatically.

    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: 10
    • Endurance: 3
    • Charisma: 8
    • Intelligence: 7
    • Agility: 3
    • Luck: 6

    Character Biography (Please include at least two quality paragraphs): Libby is a 66 Dweller. Or, was, before she departed from Niagra to find her own way at the ripe age of fifteen. She didn't make it very far, and quickly turned back to head home again. She never took up residence in Niagra, staying out in the flats for the most part. After two years of being consistently bothered by raiders, and being collared and chained for a week or so by some minor slaver gang, she decided to move back in, hoping for no more than something to cover her from the toxic rains.


    Before the age of fifteen, nothing notable happened. She was born to David and Maya Garten in a nice section of Vault 66, and the three of them lived relatively happily. Libby grew up to love spending time with people, also developing a taste for old pre-War music. She was rooting around in the Vault's storage one night when, at ten years old, she found her first tape. She immediately took it home and showed it to her parents, who recognized it and chastised her for stealing. But, recognizing also her interest in the music, they managed to talk some of their friends into getting her an old tape player and around nine album tapes. For the next five years, she wore the albums out, and now she's always on the hunt for new solid gold oldies.


    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?:



    Grimacing at the thunderheads in the distance, Libby turns her head back towards the scene before her. As the hired gun squirms and screams, grasping at where his leg once was, Libby shakes her head. She strides towards the fellow, looking about the area in case the vile destroyers of prosperity that did this were still around. Seeing no signs, she bends down next to him, going to take one of his hands.

    "Shh. Shh. Calm down. Caaaaalm down." She continues to softly coo to the man, as she squeezes his hand. Eventually, he either comes to his senses or loses enough blood to stop crying out in agony. He looks up to her through lidded eyes, and Libby reaches a hand down to her pack to grab the mentats within. "Here," she says, popping them into her hand and dropping them into his. "Take these, yeah?" She looks down to his leg, wincing lightly. "I'm sorry this happened to you," she says as he takes the mentats and pops them into his mouth with shaky hands. With a look back down to the leg, Libby slowly withdraws the pistol from the inside of her belt. taking a round and slipping it into the empty clip within.


    "You're not gonna make it. One way or another, you're gonna die today." She shakes her head. "I can make it quick for you, if you want." Without waiting for an answer or giving any hint of it, she brings the pistol up to his forehead, squeezing the trigger with an inaudible whimper. Afterwards, she looks around, leaning over to retrieve the box o' stuff. Libby sighs again as she looks to the now-closer thunderheads, making for a downed section of the highway to take cover in.

    Posted in: PC Servers
  • To post a comment, please or register a new account.