Alright, take two.
Skype name (Optional): I’d rather not for now, at least.
Prior Bans and Reasons: None, thankfully.
Roleplaying can best be described as the act of taking on and acting out a character either assigned or created by the user in text or digital form and making decisions that the character in question would make.
Powergaming is the act of making one’s character as overpowered as possible, or the act of forcing another player to perform an action without their consent. Such as, ‘player A destroys player B’s one-thousand-man army while blindfolded and drunk, with a rusty spoon, and in less than ten seconds.’
Metagaming is the use of information acquired out-of-character while in-character. A prime example would be player A talkin with player B while playing another game, where player B gives up the location of player C’s secret underwater base and player A then invades said base later on.
Past roleplay experience:
Various Minecraft servers (Roleplay Revolution, Era of the Vanguard, Assassins Creep) and MMORPG's (Guild Wars 2, SWTOR, ESO).
Write any questions you may have here:
None at the current moment.
Place of Birth:
Carrabassett Valley, Maine
Witty and funny yet reserved and silent, Vincent is the sort of man who would gladly share a beer and a joke with a few friends while not liking to speak of himself or his past to people he had just met. He likes to make a decent attempt to solve most problems head-on as they arise, even if his very life is put on the line. Vincent is also a strong believer in fighting and dying for a worthwhile cause, though he has not yet found one he would be willing to join in the first place.
Vincent stands around 5'4" in height and weighs an approximate one hundred forty pounds with a slender, yet fit bodily build. He has short, unkempt hair that appears as if it was maintained over the years with a kitchen knife and dark blue eyes. He wears the uniform of his home’s militia; a heavy brown coat with the markings of his home city on both shoulders, a pair of brown pains and fingerless gloves, and black leather combat boots.
Picture of Skin (Optional): https://gyazo.com/e2728f30731770990d1fd8974ccdddb6
Strengths (Physical and/or Mental):
Vincent can keep a level head while in combat, making him able to maintain situational awareness while in the middle of a firefight. His smallish figure allows for him to keep a low profile to the ground and make quick, agile movements when moving from one piece of cover to another. He is also proficient in a small collection of rifles and pistols and is a decent marksman with them, though he usually prefers semi-automatics and bolt-action rifles to the full-auto bullet hoses that others use.
Weaknesses (Physical and/or Mental):
While exceptional at medium to long-range combat, Vincent is next to useless in a close encounter because of a minor case of farsightedness. He attempts to compensate for this with reading glasses, but often has to rely on others to fight those who get a little too close for comfort. His smallish frame also doesn't allow for much physical strength, making him able to lift and control both his rifle and kit while unable to handle power-armor, heavy weapons and armor, or melee combat.
Fears (Something Substantial): Mirelurks and the Brotherhood of Steel
Character Biography (Minimum of two paragraphs):
Vincent is no stranger to the cold of the wasteland. He was born in a small city-settlement in Maine known only as Carrabassett Valley, a small mining town that the settlers thrived off of. Vincent begun some small form of schooling at a young age where he learned to read and write from his mother as well as how to fix and maintain a few basic machines from his father. At the age of sixteen, Vincent volunteered himself to become a part of the local militia. He was trained along with other fresh recruits where he discovered what he described as a natural talent for marksmanship. He gradually honed his skill, and at age eighteen he was officially sworn into the militia as a sniper.
His duty in the guard was boring, to say the least. Every day he would begin with guard duty along the wall, scanning the horizon for any signs of trouble that presented itself. In the afternoon he would be assigned to a patrol team to scout the area around the settlement. On one such patrol, however, the team spotted a newly revealed bunker inside of a cave due that had emerged from a recent earthquake. The bunker was clearly made by Vault-Tech, but was not an actual vault. The commander in charge of the patrol ordered the team to open the bunker to see what was inside, thinking that there may have been a stockpile of pre-war weapons or medicine that the settlement could utilize. Instead, they found an old research lab that had been overrun by mirelurks who made their home in the caves around the bunker.
The patrol fought for every inch of the bunker, but the mirelurks’ numbers were too great and the survivors had to evacuate the facility. Of the fifteen-man team that entered the bunker, only six of them made it out alive. The commander was suspended from duty and the survivors were granted commendations for their actions in the bunker, yet Vincent was still deeply disturbed by the whole ordeal. To this day he can still see the faces of his fallen comrades and hear their screams in the wee hours of the night.
On his twenty-fourth birthday, Vincent chose to be discharged from the militia and then later announced to his family and friends that he intended to venture out into the wasteland. He claimed that he felt trapped within the confines of the city; that he grew up learning how amazing the old world was and wanted to see for himself the wonders that were left behind. Three days later, Vincent set off into the wasteland with his rifle, some ammunition, and some basic supplies, leaving behind a promise to return to his home one day.
Four months later, Vincent arrived in what was once Plymouth, New Hampshire. While camping out in an old building, Vincent noticed the clanking of metal on concrete coming toward his position. He silently made his way to the window, and for the first time encountered the Brotherhood of Steel. He did not know what they were doing there, and nor did he care or intend to find out. Each knight and paladin had what Vincent assumed to be blood splattered across their armor, and a knight in the rear carried what appeared to be an old database of some sort. He witnessed a small group of scavengers spring an ambush on the team of armored soldiers, and saw that none of their attacks had any effect on the Brotherhood’s power armor, fearing that the armor-clad soldiers would spot him and mistake him for one of the scavengers. He watched in absolute terror as the team quickly and mercilessly dispatched the group of scavengers, not daring to move himself from his concealed position in his building. The next morning, Vincent descended to the streets to survey the aftermath of the skirmish the previous night. For the first time since the incident in the bunker, Vincent felt true fear in something that wasn’t a mirelurk. The young wanderer gathered the dead and held a small burial for the scavengers and after a moment of silence, he gathered his equipment and continued his journey west. He kept his eyes to the horizon, searching for any sign of the soldiers in their fierce power armor, mirelurks and their terrifying claws, and the next chapter of his adventure into the wasteland.
Roleplay Example (Try to avoid combat scenarios):
An orange glow radiated from a small campfire in the center of a small roadside diner that Vincent and his temporary companion had decided to make a camp in. The wandering mercenary stared at his companion, frowning as he finished a song on the rusted saxophone he carried with him.
“A jazz playing super mutant.” Vincent whistled. “Now I’ve seen everything.”
The super mutant did his best to smile. “Told human Henry was good.” It said, setting down his saxophone.
Vincent nodded. “You’ve got talent, my friend. But where the hell did you learn to play like that?”
Henry pointed to the instrument. “When Master die, Henry was lost. Henry wanted purpose in life. Henry wander desert, searching for purpose. Blind Man found Henry! Blind Man was not afraid of Henry because he could not see. Blind Man was great musician, taught Henry to play and even gave Henry a name!”
Vincent raised an eyebrow. “…That actually made sense, somehow. Is the Blind Man still alive?”
A sad look grew on the super mutant’s face. “Blind Man dead. Blind Man old, and die in his sleep. Blind Man wished to perform in front of people, to bring the gift of Blind Man’s music. That is why Henry wanders to New Vegas, so Henry can carry on Blind Man’s wish!”
“But do you really think they would take you in as an act there?” Vincent asked, tossing another wooden plank onto the fire.
“Henry does not know. But Henry hopes someperson will listen to Henry’s wish and Henry’s music.” He said softly. “Henry only wishes to carry on Blind Man’s wish.”