Nightkill and G-Tech make an rp (Closed)

[Nationstatelandsville]

Just one thing:

No WW1 means no Soviet Union.

Though I don't know if Night wants or not dem commies in his setting.

Communism would exist without the Soviets. Perhaps not in the Soviet Union, but I think it'd exist.

In any case, Russia does have many issues to deal with - I deliberately gave them some Crystal deposits of their own.

They're likely on the verge of collapse, if not already collapsed, due to the Crystals.

Who's in charge comes down to where the Crystals ended up being.

[Agritum]

Communism would exist without the Soviets. Perhaps not in the Soviet Union, but I think it'd exist.

In any case, Russia does have many issues to deal with - I deliberately gave them some Crystal deposits of their own.

They're likely on the verge of collapse, if not already collapsed, due to the Crystals.

Who's in charge comes down to where the Crystals ended up being.

In the hindsight, a later spin-off set in a sci-fi version of the Bolshevik Revolution would be interesting.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

They're likely on the verge of collapse, if not already collapsed, due to the Crystals.

Who's in charge comes down to where the Crystals ended up being.

In the hindsight, a later spin-off set in a sci-fi version of the Bolshevik Revolution would be interesting.

Easy there - let's just do this one first.

[Agritum]

In the hindsight, a later spin-off set in a sci-fi version of the Bolshevik Revolution would be interesting.

Easy there - let's just do this one first.

I know, I know.

You could still insert it as background material. Kinda like how you did with the effects of magic on the world, in Elfen High.

[Rupudska]

And my app is done, and I'm gonna go get lunch.

[Norvenia]

I've got a very interesting idea for a character; a little more subtle than many of my heroes, but I like him.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Name: Madiba
Age:: 20
Ethnicity: Xhosa
Sexual orientation: Straight
Religion: Calvinist
Languages: Xhosa (native), Afrikaans, English, Zulu
Appearance: Like a young, handsome black lad. Usually wears a Western business suit, as he was brought up by Heisenberg and not in his own native culture.
Personality: When on the job, Madiba tries to be very professional and effective. His real personality is quite warm, cheerful, surprisingly naive and polite. Underneath that, he hides a lot of PSTD and mental scarring, which is also quite fun. He strives to be relatively moral and kind despite the fact he lives in a very bad place. Fiecely loyal to Heisenberg, who he sees as a father figure.
History: Madiba was born as the Crystals fell, more or less. His life was uprooted very quickly after that. His family joined the protection of some African resistance movements, to try and defend themselves against the increasing European invasions into Africa. But it was a doomed effort - one day, his entire family was slaughtered by a gang of European criminals, who then proceeded to burn down his forest. He was seven.

But this young lad was discovered by Heisenberg, who empathised with him and took him under his wing, teaching Madiba the art of death, as well as just generally protecting and looking after him.
RP Sample:

[Nightkill the Emperor]

I've got a very interesting idea for a character; a little more subtle than many of my heroes, but I like him.

Looking forward to it.

[Norvenia]

NORVAPP!

Name: Malcolm Cameron

Age:: 46

Ethnicity: Scots (nationality Australian)

Sexual orientation: Straight

Religion: Presbyterian (Calvinist)

Languages: English, Scots, fluent but accented French and German.

Appearance:Tall, rangy in build - he has the look of a man scoured down to bone and sinew and whipcord muscle. His skin isn't exactly tan - it's tanned, burned over and over to the consistency of well-worn leather, tough and creased. His hair is grey, his eyes green, his face broad and handsome in an unremarkable way. His possessions are few, carried in a canvas bedroll; his clothes are stained and painstakingly repaired by hand, hard-wearing and well-maintained.

Personality: Weary - in many ways, that above all. Mal does not want to be in Africa. He does not want to be doing these jobs. He's gotten old enough to have some perspective on his life, and he does not appreciate how it has turned out. But there are things that keep him going. The most simple is basic professional pride: Mal Cameron is good at what he does, and he has been doing it for a long time, and he is driven to seek excellence even in the dirtiest of businesses. This is the Calvinist work ethic incarnate: a job worth doing is worth doing well, no matter what. But the deepest root of Malcolm's character is family. There is, of course, his family in Australia, to whom he seeks to return with every action and moment. But Malcolm also finds family wherever he goes; he adopts people, brings them into his life, cares about them. Often, they die; this is another reason why Mal is so tired. But he keeps finding new families anyway. And so perhaps the most distinctive character trait of Mal Cameron is his remarkable ability to love - though naturally, if anyone ever told him this in so many words, he would just snort, and give a little half-smile, and get on with whatever he was doing, in his phlegmatic Scots way.

History:

Mal was born on the Isle of Arran. His father was a sergeant in the British Army, one of those mustachioed bastions of empire whom nothing ever seemed able to kill. He spent most of his life in India, returning home only periodically. It was on one of those leave trips that Malcolm was conceived.

Mal thus grew up with his mother and her parents, his grandparents, who were shepherds. Mal's mother was a woman of remarkable qualities which life denied her the chance to use; she was brilliant, vivacious, curious about everything - and married at seventeen. She came to live through her hopes for her son, and tried to give him all that she could, sending him to a private Presbyterian school on the island famous for its demanding academics. When his father's army paycheck became insufficient to cover the cost of this education, Mal's mother took a job in a Glasgow factory, leaving Mal with his grandparents. They were true old Gaels, and it was from them that Mal learned many of the skills which would stay with him his life long: how to track a beast over bare rock and through running water, how to shoot a bird or a man from hiding a half-mile away, how to shelter from the weather, and how to endure the lash of the wind and the pounding of the rain and the burn in the legs of a dozen mile's running over the unforgiving rocks of the glen.

When Malcolm turned eighteen, he received two pieces of news. One was that he had qualified to attend the University of Glasgow, and his mother had laid up just enough money to pay for the first year's classes. The other was that his mother had died, aged just forty, alone in her rented room across the street from the factory. Her only effects were a little stuffed puppy, a childhood toy of Mal's that she had taken with her as a reminder of her son; this was returned to Mal, who has kept it with him ever since. Mal's father came back for the funeral; he said not a word to his son, and Mal did not see him again before the old man's death in 1902.

And so Mal bade farewell to his grandparents and the rocky moors of Arran, and he left for the University of Glasgow. There, he found himself unmoored: the vast city, clogged with pollution and industrial workers, was overwhelming for a boy from the sweeping open spaces of the Isles. He did well in his classes, but struggled to make ends meet, and was generally sneered at by his classmates - overwhelmingly scions of the Scottish aristocracy. There was one exception: Geoffrey Haig, a cheerful lad from a whiskey-magnate family, took Malcolm under his wing. And at the Haigs' sumptuous town-house, Malcolm met Geoff's sister, Lara.

It was love at first sight; the two began conducting a secret courtship, dizzy with infatuation and danger. Naturally, it didn't last: they were caught, and Geoffrey's father - far more stern than his son - saw to it that Mal was thrown out of university for his transgression. Furious but still infatuated, Malcolm was determined to stay in Glasgow; eventually, he fell in with a gang of robbers who had good use for the boy's ability to climb walls, run across rooftops, and fight skillfully with blade or rifle or fist. He slept by day, and spent his nights breaking into houses and sneaking up to Lara's balcony.

In the end, things came to a head. Unable to stomach the filth of the city or the moral corruption of his employment any longer, Malcolm crept into Laura's house and asked her to elope with him, back to Arran, to live in blissful simplicity with his grandparents. Lara, panicked, refused. She was only eighteen, she told Mal; she had played at love, and found it a pleasant game, but she would not sacrifice her place in life for it.

Devastated, Mal fled Glasgow, back to Arran, seeking the shelter of his childhood home. But he found his grandparents peacefully dead, their land bought up for mining. Mal was now without any family at all, and his life turned into a downward spiral; he drifted from job to job, legal and illegal; almost by accident, he killed his first man; he started drinking, and found that he couldn't stop. In the end, he found himself in a gutter in Edinburgh, dying by inches. And there his life turned around.

Her name was Rachel Lawson. Malcolm was by now twenty-four; she was twenty. She was an orphan, one of many raised by the Rev. Joshua Glenn, a Scottish urban missionary working in the worst parts of Edinburgh. Rachel found Malcolm and brought him back to the mission; there, she brought him back to himself, reminded him of who he was, gave him something to live for. He groped his way, step by step, back to God under Glenn's quiet Puritan guidance. And, with soft inevitability, he fell in love - true love, not his childhood infatuation. And Rachel fell in love with him. Together, they decided to leave for Australia, where there was cheap land for the buying - to begin a new life together, full of possibilities. The Reverend married them after a year of courtship, and wished them well. The next day, they left for Perth.

The land was cheap for a reason. It was good ranching land, but ranching was a hard business. Malcolm struggled to build corrals and fences, to bring in the cattle, to buy hay and oats for his horse. There was never enough money to get by, not with the hired hands to be paid, and without the hands the cattle could never be rounded up. There were bandits out there in the outback, too; every now and then, another homestead would be burned. And Rachel was soon pregnant, there in that little ranch-house, and was delivered of a baby girl.

Malcolm knew that he had to find a way to make enough money to provide for his family. And so, gradually, he took up another line of work alongside ranching. The bounties for bringing in bandits paid well, and the outlaws themselves were a threat to Malcolm's home and loved ones. At first, he would only take small contracts, dragging in horse-thieves one at a time. But Malcolm found that he was good at bounty-hunting. He knew the land, the sun, the way a man's eyes moved over the sands. He could kill from afar, or silently from up close. The killing was hard, at first, but it got easier - especially after Mal saw what some of the outlaws did to the victims whom they dragged back to their camps in the outback. And between contracts, there was money enough to pay for the upkeep of the ranch, and the hands, and Rachel and little Sara and the new baby Michael.

So time passed. Malcolm hunted bounties for twenty years of his life, from the time when he was twenty-five to the time when he was forty-five. He always thought of himself as a rancher with a little side work, even as the colonial police came to regard him as their most lethal weapon against untouchable gangs and serial killers. The contracts rarely took more than a few weeks, and Mal rarely took more than one every few months; he was at home on the ranch most of the time, with his family, at prayer and work and play. It was a simple life, but a good one. And in time, it became Malcolm's main life; with the profits from bounty-hunting, the ranch grew until it could pay for itself, and when he was forty-five, Mal left man-hunting behind him, and he settled down with Rachel to grow old together. After all, Sara was almost twenty - soon Mal would have grandchildren to dandle on his knee. Hunting criminals was no work for a grandfather.

A year later, Mal's son Michael was arrested in Perth, charged with the murder of a prostitute. Bewildered, Malcolm rode like the wind to the courthouse - just in time to find his son convicted. As Mal left the courthouse, he was approached by a well-dressed man who explained that he knew very well that Michael was innocent - and could prove it, too - if Mal would do a single job for him. If Mal refused, though...well, the penalty for murder was death by hanging.

Mal wrote home, telling Rachel that he had a job to do - but he would be back with their son soon, and everything would be all right, in the end. And that very night, Malcolm Cameron left for South Africa, to hunt men one last time on behalf of a mysterious organization known as The Company.

RP Sample: Uh-huh.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

NORVAPP!

Name: Malcolm Cameron

Age:: 46

Ethnicity: Scots (nationality Australian)

Sexual orientation: Straight

Religion: Presbyterian (Calvinist)

Languages: English, Scots, fluent but accented French and German.

Appearance:Tall, rangy in build - he has the look of a man scoured down to bone and sinew and whipcord muscle. His skin isn't exactly tan - it's tanned, burned over and over to the consistency of well-worn leather, tough and creased. His hair is grey, his eyes green, his face broad and handsome in an unremarkable way. His possessions are few, carried in a canvas bedroll; his clothes are stained and painstakingly repaired by hand, hard-wearing and well-maintained.

Personality: Weary - in many ways, that above all. Mal does not want to be in Africa. He does not want to be doing these jobs. He's gotten old enough to have some perspective on his life, and he does not appreciate how it has turned out. But there are things that keep him going. The most simple is basic professional pride: Mal Cameron is good at what he does, and he has been doing it for a long time, and he is driven to seek excellence even in the dirtiest of businesses. This is the Calvinist work ethic incarnate: a job worth doing is worth doing well, no matter what. But the deepest root of Malcolm's character is family. There is, of course, his family in Australia, to whom he seeks to return with every action and moment. But Malcolm also finds family wherever he goes; he adopts people, brings them into his life, cares about them. Often, they die; this is another reason why Mal is so tired. But he keeps finding new families anyway. And so perhaps the most distinctive character trait of Mal Cameron is his remarkable ability to love - though naturally, if anyone ever told him this in so many words, he would just snort, and give a little half-smile, and get on with whatever he was doing, in his phlegmatic Scots way.

History:

Mal was born on the Isle of Arran. His father was a sergeant in the British Army, one of those mustachioed bastions of empire whom nothing ever seemed able to kill. He spent most of his life in India, returning home only periodically. It was on one of those leave trips that Malcolm was conceived.

Mal thus grew up with his mother and her parents, his grandparents, who were shepherds. Mal's mother was a woman of remarkable qualities which life denied her the chance to use; she was brilliant, vivacious, curious about everything - and married at seventeen. She came to live through her hopes for her son, and tried to give him all that she could, sending him to a private Presbyterian school on the island famous for its demanding academics. When his father's army paycheck became insufficient to cover the cost of this education, Mal's mother took a job in a Glasgow factory, leaving Mal with his grandparents. They were true old Gaels, and it was from them that Mal learned many of the skills which would stay with him his life long: how to track a beast over bare rock and through running water, how to shoot a bird or a man from hiding a half-mile away, how to shelter from the weather, and how to endure the lash of the wind and the pounding of the rain and the burn in the legs of a dozen mile's running over the unforgiving rocks of the glen.

When Malcolm turned eighteen, he received two pieces of news. One was that he had qualified to attend the University of Glasgow, and his mother had laid up just enough money to pay for the first year's classes. The other was that his mother had died, aged just forty, alone in her rented room across the street from the factory. Her only effects were a little stuffed puppy, a childhood toy of Mal's that she had taken with her as a reminder of her son; this was returned to Mal, who has kept it with him ever since. Mal's father came back for the funeral; he said not a word to his son, and Mal did not see him again before the old man's death in 1902.

And so Mal bade farewell to his grandparents and the rocky moors of Arran, and he left for the University of Glasgow. There, he found himself unmoored: the vast city, clogged with pollution and industrial workers, was overwhelming for a boy from the sweeping open spaces of the Isles. He did well in his classes, but struggled to make ends meet, and was generally sneered at by his classmates - overwhelmingly scions of the Scottish aristocracy. There was one exception: Geoffrey Haig, a cheerful lad from a whiskey-magnate family, took Malcolm under his wing. And at the Haigs' sumptuous town-house, Malcolm met Geoff's sister, Lara.

It was love at first sight; the two began conducting a secret courtship, dizzy with infatuation and danger. Naturally, it didn't last: they were caught, and Geoffrey's father - far more stern than his son - saw to it that Mal was thrown out of university for his transgression. Furious but still infatuated, Malcolm was determined to stay in Glasgow; eventually, he fell in with a gang of robbers who had good use for the boy's ability to climb walls, run across rooftops, and fight skillfully with blade or rifle or fist. He slept by day, and spent his nights breaking into houses and sneaking up to Lara's balcony.

In the end, things came to a head. Unable to stomach the filth of the city or the moral corruption of his employment any longer, Malcolm crept into Laura's house and asked her to elope with him, back to Arran, to live in blissful simplicity with his grandparents. Lara, panicked, refused. She was only eighteen, she told Mal; she had played at love, and found it a pleasant game, but she would not sacrifice her place in life for it.

Devastated, Mal fled Glasgow, back to Arran, seeking the shelter of his childhood home. But he found his grandparents peacefully dead, their land bought up for mining. Mal was now without any family at all, and his life turned into a downward spiral; he drifted from job to job, legal and illegal; almost by accident, he killed his first man; he started drinking, and found that he couldn't stop. In the end, he found himself in a gutter in Edinburgh, dying by inches. And there his life turned around.

Her name was Rachel Lawson. Malcolm was by now twenty-four; she was twenty. She was an orphan, one of many raised by the Rev. Joshua Glenn, a Scottish urban missionary working in the worst parts of Edinburgh. Rachel found Malcolm and brought him back to the mission; there, she brought him back to himself, reminded him of who he was, gave him something to live for. He groped his way, step by step, back to God under Glenn's quiet Puritan guidance. And, with soft inevitability, he fell in love - true love, not his childhood infatuation. And Rachel fell in love with him. Together, they decided to leave for Australia, where there was cheap land for the buying - to begin a new life together, full of possibilities. The Reverend married them after a year of courtship, and wished them well. The next day, they left for Perth.

The land was cheap for a reason. It was good ranching land, but ranching was a hard business. Malcolm struggled to build corrals and fences, to bring in the cattle, to buy hay and oats for his horse. There was never enough money to get by, not with the hired hands to be paid, and without the hands the cattle could never be rounded up. There were bandits out there in the outback, too; every now and then, another homestead would be burned. And Rachel was soon pregnant, there in that little ranch-house, and was delivered of a baby girl.

Malcolm knew that he had to find a way to make enough money to provide for his family. And so, gradually, he took up another line of work alongside ranching. The bounties for bringing in bandits paid well, and the outlaws themselves were a threat to Malcolm's home and loved ones. At first, he would only take small contracts, dragging in horse-thieves one at a time. But Malcolm found that he was good at bounty-hunting. He knew the land, the sun, the way a man's eyes moved over the sands. He could kill from afar, or silently from up close. The killing was hard, at first, but it got easier - especially after Mal saw what some of the outlaws did to the victims whom they dragged back to their camps in the outback. And between contracts, there was money enough to pay for the upkeep of the ranch, and the hands, and Rachel and little Sara and the new baby Michael.

So time passed. Malcolm hunted bounties for twenty years of his life, from the time when he was twenty-five to the time when he was forty-five. He always thought of himself as a rancher with a little side work, even as the colonial police came to regard him as their most lethal weapon against untouchable gangs and serial killers. The contracts rarely took more than a few weeks, and Mal rarely took more than one every few months; he was at home on the ranch most of the time, with his family, at prayer and work and play. It was a simple life, but a good one. And in time, it became Malcolm's main life; with the profits from bounty-hunting, the ranch grew until it could pay for itself, and when he was forty-five, Mal left man-hunting behind him, and he settled down with Rachel to grow old together. After all, Sara was almost twenty - soon Mal would have grandchildren to dandle on his knee. Hunting criminals was no work for a grandfather.

A year later, Mal's son Michael was arrested in Perth, charged with the murder of a prostitute. Bewildered, Malcolm rode like the wind to the courthouse - just in time to find his son convicted. As Mal left the courthouse, he was approached by a well-dressed man who explained that he knew very well that Michael was innocent - and could prove it, too - if Mal would do a single job for him. If Mal refused, though...well, the penalty for murder was death by hanging.

Mal wrote home, telling Rachel that he had a job to do - but he would be back with their son soon, and everything would be all right, in the end. And that very night, Malcolm Cameron left for South Africa, to hunt men one last time on behalf of a mysterious organization known as The Company.

RP Sample: Uh-huh.

Approved.

Now I'm going to find myself a large coffee, cancel all my plans for today and tomorrow, and start reading the history.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

For what it's worth, Norv, the idea of a Scottish man named Malcolm made me think of Malcolm Tucker.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

While we wait for the others, keep yourself busy with reading material.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_Boer_War

[Individuality-ness]

I presume I have an invite?

Posting because otherwise Night will swim acroos the ocean and make me post. *nod*

Need to find time for app later.

[Rupudska]

Mark Harmon, good choice in actors.

[Alleniana]

Oh hmm.
Why dafuq nawt.
Name: John Lawsenmeier
Age:: 39
Ethnicity: English descent, but his family have been in South Africa for a few generations
Sexual orientation: Straight
Religion: Tells people he's either Catholic, Calvinist or Orthodox. Is none of them; is apathetic-agnostic
Languages: English, Dutch, French, German, Afrikaans, Latin
Appearance: Light, ginger, thin hair, a gentle but somewhat narrow face, brown eyes, a slightly pointed nose, whiter than most 4th gen South Africans, skin smoother than most, medium build, somewhat taller than most, a bit thin
Personality: Formally friendly to those he doesn't know and a bit reserved, but brutal when he has a task. Brutally efficient. An academic, very smart, dislikes brute force used without reason. Handles everything very neutrally.
History: Born near Bloemfontein in a rural town, he proved to be a bit of a genius and went to university in Bloemfontein. As university was finishing for him, (he skipped a few grades), the gems rained. He moved, after instability, to Cape Town. It was during this time he gained his brutality, moving from genial genius to emotionless genius. He joined the company then, and now roams about doing jobs and reading books.
Does it need to be longer?
RP Sample:
G-Tech knows me well.

I would prefer longer. How did he survive the chemical warfare near Bloemfontein? How did he handle the arisal of the Crossbearers just outside Cape Town? What brought him back to the Company in the volatile Freistat from the comparative safety of the Western Cape?

Ok

Name: John Lawsenmeier
Age:: 39
Ethnicity: English descent, but his family have been in South Africa for a few generations
Sexual orientation: Straight
Religion: Tells people he's either Catholic, Calvinist or Orthodox. Is none of them; is apathetic-agnostic
Languages: English, Dutch, French, German, Afrikaans, Latin
Appearance: Light, ginger, thin hair, a gentle but somewhat narrow face, brown eyes, a slightly pointed nose, whiter than most 4th gen South Africans, skin smoother than most, medium build, somewhat taller than most, a bit thin
Personality: Formally friendly to those he doesn't know and a bit reserved, but brutal when he has a task. Brutally efficient. An academic, very smart, dislikes brute force used without reason. Handles everything very neutrally.
History: Born near Bloemfontein in a rural town, he proved to be a bit of a genius and went to university in Bloemfontein. He did very well, and was soon to graduate with honors. As university was finishing for him, (he skipped a few grades), the gems rained, and obviously, everything went to hell. He got caught up in fighting and general violent wackiness, and was emotionally scarred. He and his family had fled from Bloemfontein by a crammed bus with supplies, but he arrived, injured in many ways and whatnot in Cape Town. He never talks about that period in his life; it appears to be the only part of his memories, apart from his family, that he still has emotions about. It was during this time he gained his brutality, moving from genial genius to emotionless genius. After scraping along, getting more knowledge, much of it more practical, he found Cape Town to be too quiet, not high-class, in many ways, enough for his needs. It was also... a bit disorganized, but in a way that did not provide opportunities, merely let other forces intrude on his quiet, secluded residence. He discovered the company and joined it, because it was profitable, and because he might as well die anyway for a cause. He secretly hopes to find his family in action with the company, but many days, he really questions why he is a mercenary.
Does it still need to be longer?
RP Sample:
G-Tech knows me well.

[Norvenia]

Mark Harmon, good choice in actors.

Thank you. He had the kind of face that I was looking for in Malcolm: weathered, yet still somehow frank and open.

[Nationstatelandsville]

South Africa is likely home of the first human beings.

This amuses me greatly.

[Alleniana]

South Africa is likely home of the first human beings.

This amuses me greatly.

Thought that was Ethiopia?

[Nationstatelandsville]

South Africa is likely home of the first human beings.

This amuses me greatly.

Thought that was Ethiopia?

Well, we don't really know for sure, obviously.

[Alleniana]

Thought that was Ethiopia?

Well, we don't really know for sure, obviously.

Oh, ok.

[Neo Arcad]

I think I'll go for the female character after all. It seems like I would have the most fun with her, and to be honest my other two character ideas were too similar to existing characters and/or American.

[Alleniana]

Maybe I should change...? There seems to be an overabundance of white male straight guys, though to be fair, that's realistic, seeing as it's South Africa in 1920

[Nightkill the Emperor]

My Internet is fucking up. I'm using my phone's data plan to post. I don't know when the Internet issue will be fixed.

[Alleniana]

My Internet is fucking up. I'm using my phone's data plan to post. I don't know when the Internet issue will be fixed.

oh gee.
NS on phone.
hell.

[Neo Arcad]

My Internet is fucking up. I'm using my phone's data plan to post. I don't know when the Internet issue will be fixed.

oh gee.
NS on phone.
hell.

It's not as bad as NS on PSP. You can't even open spoilers, copy/paste ANYTHING, or post links.