Fallout: The Mont [OOC/Open]

by **Sarejo** » Wed Jul 05, 2017 10:57 pm

Fallout: The Mont

OOC | IC

Co-OPs
Kentucky Fried Land
Ormata
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ROBCO INDUSTRIES UNIFIED OPERATING SYSTEM
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-Server 1-

Uni Military Access Only

December 4th, 2296

Messengers from 4th Company confirm our suspicions: A massive Dead Sky war-party is forming and is preparing to advance on the Black Earth tribe and Trapper settlements. I have faith in our men to be able to hold their own against a raiding party of tribals, but a whole war-party is a danger we have not experienced for over eight years, and I'm taking no chances. I ordered Captain Sanders to pull back, and to leave the Black Earth and Trappers to their own devices. It's a cruel move, yes, but if it will save our boys for the real fight ahead, it's a move I have to be willing to make.

As for the real fight, the Mounties move farther south by the week, sending refugees of their brutal subjugation tactics to our gates, and I'll be damned if I don't admit that we're quickly running low on supplies with the influx of refugees. I've already axed rations three times in the past two months, and any lower, our troops with starve to death. We need to do something about these bastards, and soon.

On another note, I have reason to believe Lieutenant Connors has been taking bribes from the Champlain Bay Company to allow chems to flow into The Uni under customs' noses. I'll look into it, and for now he's under my close eye.

-Commander Richard Grey, Commander of The Uni Military Forces

December 2296, Vermont wasteland. Commonly known as The Mont Wasteland, or more simply, The Mont. The Mont was spared much nuclear bombardment, mostly because of a lack of major targets, save for Montreal and the Commonwealth. Ergo, mutatant animals and plantlife is still common, however many of the enclosed water sources contain far lower amounts of nuclear contamination, and the area is still heavily wooded and greenery is commonplace. However, because of the natural remoteness of what was the northeastern United States, civilization is still spread out in scattered remnants. Some city-states claim superiority, however in wider scale they hold little power. The Uni, Centennial Point, and Lone Rock are examples of these puffed up city-states, however their closest competition manifested itself as tribes and raider gangs for a long period of time, explaining such smaller "nations". However, a new force from up north has finally reared its head, expanding southward to project their true military might on the denizens of the frigid, wooded wastes of The Mont; these menacing newcomers call themselves The Montreal Commonwealth, however they are more commonly referred to as The Mounties. Various raider groups roam The Mont proper, including chiefly the NukeDukes and Red Roaches, while the lawless east is dominated by trappers and tribals, varying in hostility and brutality.

Now, a group of survivors band together in Fort Morris to weather out the beginnings of the winter storms, and this is where our story begins.

The year is 2296. The Lone Survivor has destroyed the Institute almost a decade ago, and as a result the Railroad has for the most part disbanded. The Minutemen and Brotherhood of Steel exist in an uneasy cease-fire following a long and brutal war for territory and revenge over the Lone Survivor’s destruction of the Prydwyn, leaving the Commonwealth split in half. Seeing no more opportunities in the east, the Brotherhood turned their attention north and west, sending recon teams to the area known locally as The Mont, which encompassed most of the Pre-War state of Vermont. However, they encountered fierce resistance from a militarized force known as the Mounties, formed from the remnants of Pre-War Canadian rebels and members of the RCMP, though it had been disbanded following the US annexation of Canada. Rather than fight another protracted and costly war far from their home, the Brotherhood retreated from the territory back to the safety of the East Coast to project their ambitions elsewhere.

The heart of The Mont lay in the ruins of Burlington, formerly the largest city in the state before the formation of the New England Commonwealth Pre-War. Only one vault was built in the area, Vault 94, which was designed to run out of supplies within a half a decade, leading to a revolt by the residents against the Overseer when the supplies ran out. Finding no hidden supplies, the residents left the vault and spread out into the wastes, finding several raider tribes and pockets of survivors. They settled in the ruins of the Pre-War University of Vermont, founding a small village that over the next two hundred years grew into a large and powerful nation known throughout the east as The Uni. Their first real threat came from the Enclave, and in distress The Uni, still split up in a collection of settlements, united themselves and several other small settlements against the Enclave, using guerrilla tactics against the organized Enclave Military, stalling them until they got fed up and left; and after a long and protracted skirmish war, they eventually did. The Enclave had never maintained a large presence in the area because of the distance from the East and the lack of strategic importance of the area in their opinion, and they pulled out their forces following the beginning of the Enclave-Brotherhood War. During this time period, sentient ghouls moved into the ruins of Vault 94, forming their own ghoul settlement known as Lone Rock, and an outside faction known as the Abbey of the Road, a Christian sect based elsewhere in the northeast, founded a mission in the ruins of the Pre-War Cathedral of St. Paul. Since then they have moved eastward, establishing missions out in tribal territory in an attempt to convert the natives out there, though only finding minimal success, not least because of the constant warring between the tribes, particularly the Dead Sky and Black Earth tribes.

Two raider gangs have also risen to prominence in the area, after annexing several rivals and allies of theirs: the RedRoaches and the Nuke-Dukes, who compete with each other both in the chem trade and for resources with each other. Wars between them are common, often with smaller settlements caught in the crossfire. However the main threat to settlers consist of three main factors: weather, bestiary, and tribal raiding parties. The brutal winter experienced in The Mont freezes much of the landscape, leaving little in the way of hunting for almost 4 months out of the year, while mutant beasts roam the wilderness ready to rip any unsuspecting survivor apart. Furthermore, insane and cannibalistic tribals have kidnapped and murdered many survivors, missionaries, trappers and traders, not least the Grey Sky Tribe, one of the most feared tribes in the entire Mont.

Major Settlements/Factions

The Uni
A large city built in and around the ruins of the Pre-War University of Vermont campus, the economic and military powerhouse of the western Mont Wasteland.

Mounties
The Mounties are a military faction from Montreal, reminiscent of the NCR Rangers or BoS, who seek to bring peace to the wastes under their control. They currently maintain a small outpost and recon team in the Pre-War Burlington City Hall, but larger force is likely to arrive soon. Maintains a larger presence in the Central-eastern Mont area.

Lone Rock (Vault 94)
A Vault designed to test the effects of a resource shortage on the population. Resources were designed to run out within five years of the Vault being sealed, which caused a revolt against the Overseer when the residents believed he was hoarding food. He was killed, but to the resident’s dismay he did not have a hidden cache of supplies, and so they forced the door to open and spread out into The Mont, especially in the Pre-War Burlington area, with many going on to form The Uni. The Vault was after that largely empty, but recently non-feral ghouls have taken resident in the Vault to found their own ghoul settlement, Lone Rock.

Centennial Point
A small town built in and around the Pre-War Centennial Ballpark, and heavily influenced by baseball culture, adopting their identity from the Pre-War Vermont Lake Monsters baseball team located at the park.

Merchant Factions

Champlain Bay Company
A slaver/merchant faction whose headquarters lay in the Pre-War Redstone Park. Relatively non-violent in terms of direct involvement, the Company consider themselves “legitimate raiders”, and have had business deals with both Centennial and The Uni. Maintains many trader outposts through The Mont.

West Burl Caravan Company
A trading caravan company, who owns many of the caravans that travel throughout The Mont trading with the various factions, and sometimes making contact with caravans coming from The Commonwealth. They are usually neutral, however they are fiercely competitive and don't take lightly to rival caravans, regardless of the size of the competing caravan. They also serve as the closest thing The Mont has to a mail service, and have been known to discreetly run guns and chems in conjunction with raiders and the Champlain Bay Company, using their many contacts and outposts to move such goods.

Green Mountain Trappers
A trader faction that hunts in the forests of The Mont for furs, meat, and also scavenges Pre-War ruins for artifacts to sell. As such they maintain close relations with the West Burl Caravan Company.

Neutral-Good Factions

Abbey of the Road (St. Paul Cathedral)
The Abbey of the Road is a Christian sect based out of an unknown location in the Pre-War Northeastern United States, who maintain a mission/settlement in the ruins of Pre-War Burlington in the Mont Wasteland.

Radio Queen City (108.4)
The major radio station in the ruins of Burlington, and popular throughout much of The Mont. DJ’d by Connor McDaniels, and located in the ruins of the Pre-War Burlington Town Center.

Major Raider Gangs

Nuke-Dukes
A raider gang in southeastern Burlington that controls most of the gambling and racketeering business in the “civilized” Mont, along with running fraudulent “protection” scams against the numerous scattered small settlements and towns in the ruins of Burlington under their control.

RedRoaches
A raider gang based in western Burlington who manufacture and use a highly addictive drug known as Thunder, which causes users to gain a burst of energy and mental clarity, followed by a fast and violent crash which almost always necessitates constant use, and in jncreasing dosages because of quick-gaining tolerance. They usually perform small raids on caravans or wanderers, but are not considered a large threat in The Mont.

Major Tribes

Grey Tree Tribe
A very small, yet aggressively warlike tribe that lives east of the mountains, who are cannibalistic and psychotic, routinely consuming homemade chems and other hallucinogens, especially before going into battle, which they do quite frequently with anyone they encounter that is not in their tribe.

Dead Sky Tribe
A tribe whose culture is heavily based around war and warrior culture, coming into constant conflict with their northern neighbors, the Black Earth tribe, and the Green Mountain Trappers. They prefer melee combat and use extravagant and shocking body paint to scare and intimidate their enemies.

Black Earth Tribe
A tribe of survivors whose culture seems to be influenced heavily by hunting, and as a result they have become excellent stalkers and ambushers, though as of late they've had to reform their peaceful hunting society into a warlike culture to combat their aggressive neighbors to the south.

Lost Souls Tribe
A small, isolated and pacifist tribe who reject the idea of war and solely hunt and farm, trying avidly to avoid conflict, and several of their members have fled from either current or destroyed tribes when they were sick of fighting, though they might not be able to maintain their peaceful ways much longer.

White Crow Tribe
A peaceful tribe in The Mont that harbors friendly relations with many of the other factions, save for raiders and other hostiles, and whose culture is primarily agricultural and hunting based, with no distinct warrior class or desire to pursue conflict.

by **Sarejo** » Wed Jul 05, 2017 10:58 pm

Accepted Roster
Grant Carter - Sarejo
Tracker - Ormata
Audubon (John Walker) - Palmetto
Nona - Beiarusia
Hanlon - Anowa
Marilyn Porter - Anowa
Walter Deckard - Grestin
Davis Farmer - Western Imperial Union
Isaac Harvey - Ormata
Bartolomé - Pasong
Dirk Bradford - Kyraina
Samuel Hayden - PBoS
Theo Lowe - Hastiaka
Joshua Constant - Vacif
He-Who-Walks-Silenty - Prusslandia
F. Pegahmagabow - Traansval
James Carter - Traansval
Jerry Caldwell - Shadowwell
Greta Jameson - Puertollano

by **Ormata** » Wed Jul 05, 2017 10:59 pm

NS Nation Name: Ormata

Skills:
Courser. Tracker’s training and ability to murder things into the
past life are such that she is extremely capable of doing so. Able
to both engage targets at close-quarters and to engage them
from afar, she’s known to prefer the the latter to the
former, though preferences don’t really come into play now,
do they?
Tracking. She did not earn her name for nothing. Capable of
finding her targets before engaging them, it’s something she’s
grown at doing. This isn’t to say that she can track a sparrow
in the desert, but if there are signs, she can find them. It’s
a result of both experience and her greater programming with
the Institute.
Strength. While in her Frame, she can pick-up a helluva lot
of stuff and move it with relatively little effort, along with
being quite capable of throwing a punch and breaking a few
bones.
Weaknesses:
Idealist. Tracker does things her way; no killing innocents, only
those who can fight with extreme prejudice. As such, she’s
made enemies long ago and continues to do such; the brood
of those she kills, after all, can grow-up fully hating
whoever the heck did kill said parents.
Emotions. While she can play-out a part, it’s not as though
Courser programming did a lot for her method of talking to
people. Calling her blunt is an understatement; she’s as
subtle as a screaming freighttrain.
Speed. With her Power Armor Frame, Tracker is not the fastest
thing on the block by a long shot, and brief periods of
speed are, simply put, unattainable while in that frame.
Noisy. With her Power Armor Frame, she is not the quietest
person on the block, you see, and on still nights this
could, very easily, present an issue. May be muffled by
fabric tied-about the servos but that presents jamming
issues in-case some bit gets stuck.

Equipment:
Hey Mama. FN FAL chambered in 7.62×51mm NATO.
Iron Sights
4 x 30-round detachable box magazine, 7.62×51mm NATO
12’ Makeshift Knife
Armor
PAF. Designed to carry whatever’s needed to be carried
and nothing more, really.
Dark Green Jumpsuit
Backpack, Oversized
Winter Clothing
Scarf, Woolen, White
Coat, Fur, White
Trousers, Woolen, Gray-Green
Snow-Pants, Fur-Lined, White
Boots, Hobnailed, Black

Character Name: Tracker (R3-94)
Appearance:
Standing at a standard height of 5’7”, Tracker’s overall body type is a very thin one. She doesn’t look to have a greater amount of musculature about her, though looks are especially deceiving with her, and Tracker’s tanned skin goes rather well with a bit of longer hair. A scar upon her face, running from the cheek to ear, stands-out there, along with a scar along the length of her right arm. A tattoo's upon her chest, as well, though it’d take a brave person to ask what it is.

In terms of clothing, Tracker prefers to wear lighter clothing as sub-zero temperatures don’t really screw with her physically, with the issue of electronic components freezing having been fixed by Institute engineers some decade before her production. As such, she wears a loose shirt, gray, along with patched pants and a pair of boots. A vest might be added towards this, though that is less likely. Woolen clothing may be worn.

In terms of armor, Tracker has a certain look about her, with a dark green jumpsuit, patched to a greater extent, underneath a Power Armor Frame. The frame has, since its completion some years ago, been colored to a darker gray instead of the less-than-joyous white new frames have. This includes such things as the red clamps. Fixed onto the Frame is a light, salvaged from an old mining helmet she traded for, which is mounted onto the frame right shoulder joint. A pair of study boots are, as always, included.

She wears no jewelry.
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Occupation: Former Courser, Minuteman, Mailman

Likes:
Dislikes:
Fears:

Biography:
Developed in the Institute, made in the Institute, R3-94’s earliest role was that of the Courser. Built from the ground-up to be the most developed of Synthetics, designed and programmed to be a precision tool against those enemies of the Commonwealth. During such joyous events, if you asked her her opinion on it, she had none. She was like most other Coursers and the rest of the Synths, unquestioning in her task and role. In some ways, privately, she felt sorry for those out in the Wasteland, out in Boston and out with the Brotherhood of Steel. They didn’t have the scale of complete being, they didn’t have the certainty of knowing that where they were was where they were meant to be. In some ways, it was comforting.

Her earliest deployments in the Commonwealth, or really outside of it, involved several training operations out on the fringes of Brotherhood-controlled areas. She felt somewhat bad at killing those, yet they were soldiers. She comforted herself in saying that they had known what they were signing-up to do, that they were fully aware of the consequences. Yet there was a lingering feeling, a sense of what any sort of biological might call ‘doubt’. Upon her return to the Commonwealth, a diagnostics report uncovered this fact, causing that operation to be wiped from memory. They did not wish any sort of measure that could impede their units to start, even if it was just a small seed of doubt.

Another deployment of hers was in the Railroad area. Posing as another Synth wanting to run-away, that cell of the Railroad was particularly lax about their security. They accepted the Synth in, talked things over, and a deep-cover operation of the highest joys began. For over two months, she would stay quiet, attempting to gain more information yet never quite getting it. It was, in a way, annoying, both towards her and her superiors. Those others about her, though, were not of the sorts of soldiers; they were civilians, on what she considered to be an incorrect ideology and on what she considered to be a poor path. She would restrain the entirety of the compound, numbering some twenty, and would be commended on the skill which such a thing took.

Her combat operations spanned the entirety of the Boston Wasteland, infiltrating some fifteen separate installations from Minuteman Outposts to trader organizations to Diamond City, along with participating in the destruction of ten more installations ranging from Brotherhood of Steel Communications Relays to Minuteman hideouts and Railroad checkpoints. Such a thing would be, perhaps, amazing towards a normal survivor. For a Courser it was simply the job that had to be done.

R3-94’s issues with such operations, with the idea that the enemy never really made such an effort to find-out about the abilities of their enemies and that the whole entire situation had some people who were, perhaps, alright lead to doubts being created on the whole thing. However, due to the significant uptick in operations Coursers had to perform and the division of a good portion of said Coursers in the attempted destruction of a Minuteman operative meant that such
niceties as memory wipes and returning to the Commonwealth were not always possible.

Her final operation was towards a Minuteman outpost, on the far fringes of the area, where she had orders to maintain silence until all information was received and the kill order was given. That order was never received. She did receive notice that the Institute had gone-up in smoke, that it had been destroyed, that most Synths were dead and that the Brotherhood of Steel was going away for good. R3-94 was, to state the least, conflicted.

On one hand, everything she had known and, well...known was gone. She had never really loved it; you couldn’t love something as cold and clinical as the Institute, even if R3-94 had the capacity to do so. She hadn’t really had that many connections to people there, either. On the other hand...there hadn’t been much post for the Courser. Everything she had worked towards, everything she had done, it had been done for other people. She was, for a good while, lost on what she should do. It wasn’t as though she could fight on; the Institute was dead. All she would be doing would be prolonging the death and killing more people whose deaths would mean nothing and whose lives could do so much more. All she would be doing was cause issues, nothing more; she couldn’t change the Boston Wasteland. She most definitely couldn’t change it like that.

R3-94, then a ‘Monica’, would leave the Minutemen, give-up her cover job with those guys, selling what she had and purchasing a hunting rifle, bolt-action, before setting-off into the Wasteland. She’d figured-out what, exactly, to do; she’d been trained to kill. Killing the normal people, well, that simply wouldn’t do anything, now would it. Yet killing bandits, enemies, people who simply made others’ lives worse and tried to gain something, that would give some meaning to it all. That’d make it just a bit better. Over the next two years, her study towards the art of precise murder would lead to many raider groups disbanding entirely, with many a caravan being saved from a mile away, and with a good few settlements surviving the harsh years and violent births of themselves, that people would live. In the end, she’d found it good.

Her services would be enlisted by, oddly enough, the Minutemen themselves; shipments going away, lost, by the riverfront, and they wished her to find it. Through some difficulty, R3-94 would find the shipment of rifles, which was to move by boat from their place of manufacture, to be under the ownership of raiders. There were approximately fifty of them. None of them precisely lived. Through this action, and the recovery of the shipment, she would earn the moniker “Tracker”. They much appreciated her efforts, after all. She would be hired for several more jobs, always accepting about half pay and never quite doing it for the pay. After all, it wasn’t as though she required food.

During her travels, and with the necessity to carry far larger quantities of items than what would reasonably be capable for a person, Tracker would come to implement a Power Armor Frame, a PAF, scrounged from the frames and armors of half a dozen bandits. Finding the armor to be inadequate at best, or really rather pieces of garbage, she’d strip the corroded metal for just the base frame. After all, it wasn’t as though one could explain-away moving a few tonnes of lost Minuteman cargo without such a frame, now, could you.

In her travels, she’d eventually move operations more into the Salem area, though by this time the Boston Wasteland had become as secure as she could reasonably help it to be. Raiders were afraid, or at least a good few of them were, the Minutemen seemed to have things under control, the Brotherhood of Steel wasn’t threatening the region with it’s purges or some other action, and so Tracker moved more northward, figuring that there should be more enclaves of humanity that might need some sort of aid and that she might be able to give it to them. Her journey to the Mont was somewhat interesting, as most major population centers were nuked to oblivion and back, and as such it was really rather quiet. Well, it was a quiet journey aside from the larger amounts of ghouls, deathclaws, and other really annoying freaks of nature which just come out of nuclear radiation. On the plus side, though, there weren’t that many centers of population outside of the “Everything in this zone dies” area that inherently comes from a nuke, which lead to more hundreds and not millions of ghouls. It was a better time than it could have been, to be put simply.

Tracker’s first experience with The Mont Wasteland involved a group of violent tribals near Middlesex, which lead to about fifteen individuals dead and her being fifteen rounds out. This was, in her mind, good news; if people like this existed, well, surely there was something she could do about cleaning-up the area, and the fact that such tribals were well-armed indicated that there were other forces nearby. After all, if there weren’t other forces nearby, there would be little reason for them to be so well-armed.

Moving upwards along Route 89, she’d come-across an Army Depot near Bolton. Stopping there, and subduing what security was left (Two Protectrons and a Mister Gutsy), Tracker found the remains of what seemed to be a National Guard warehouse, used to store reserve weapons and, strangely enough, a score of Canadian towed artillery which had had the breaches removed. Odd, but then again the US had invaded Canada and, most likely, had taken a good degree of said weaponry away from their northern Maple Leaf brothers.

However, what she did find that was very useful was a FN FAL, or rather a store of formerly Canadian weapons, along with several of the most joyous scopes, most which had broken-down by impressive rates. She took one of these guns, along with a significant number of magazines, and went on her way, sealing that Army Depot to ensure that none of the friggin’ tribals would get the guns. That would make her job significantly harder. Moving up 89, through Richmond while clearing-out a small infestation of ghouls there, she’d first come across the NukeDukes’ territory, Burlington. This would end amazingly poorly as they would confront her with a traveling fee, something which would lead to an amazing escalation of hostilities until some thirteen NukeDukes were dead. Seeing as she could not travel that way, Tracker went more northern, coming upon the West Burl Caravan Company.

Finding them to be reasonable individuals, Tracker would come into their service for some time, acting as a mailman as it were and when not doing that performing special tasks for the Company. Mostly this was in regards to finding lost, important packages which never made it to their destinations; the Company regarded reputation as important and did not take lightly the loss of such packages. She would exit their service on even terms, intending to travel a bit more and do more good than she had done prior.

She’s since come-upon the Uni, and before Tracker knew it, would start helping them as well. Tracker has, to her PAF, improved it somewhat in terms of servos and movement systems thanks to trading with various caravan companies and the cannibalization of several robots.
RP Examples (If none your bio will be used):

DO NOT REMOVE: Autumn

by **Anowa** » Thu Jul 06, 2017 9:12 am

by **Sarejo** » Thu Jul 06, 2017 9:16 am

Anowa wrote:Tag

Fancy seeing you here. Welcome again, mate

by **Kuromorimine Girls High School** » Thu Jul 06, 2017 9:18 am

Sarejo wrote:
Anowa wrote:Tag

Fancy seeing you here. Welcome again, mate

What kind of technology is allowed?

by **Anowa** » Thu Jul 06, 2017 9:18 am

Sarejo wrote:
Anowa wrote:Tag

Fancy seeing you here. Welcome again, mate

I'm a simple man, I see Fallout, I tag.

by **Sarejo** » Thu Jul 06, 2017 9:22 am

Kuromorimine Girls High School wrote:
Sarejo wrote:
Fancy seeing you here. Welcome again, mate

What kind of technology is allowed?

Says in the app for regular weapons, but most things you can find on the East Coast in FO3 (Institute weapons can go fuck themselves) can be had there, although on a much more limited scale.

by **Vacif** » Thu Jul 06, 2017 9:22 am

Same as Ormata.

by **Sarejo** » Thu Jul 06, 2017 9:24 am

Vacif wrote:Same as Ormata.

Ormata wrote:Tagged, because I need more people to disappoint.

You two never fail to disappoint me by posting apps and only ever posting 3 IC posts <3

by **The Palmetto** » Thu Jul 06, 2017 9:40 am

I went looking through the RP advertisement thread to try and find an RP I'd like. I wasn't disappointed.

Tag.

Would a hunter born in the Uni work? I'm thinking he hunts animals and trades their hides, meat, etc. for money and supplies. I want to make sure I get the lore right and don't mess anything up.

by **Sarejo** » Thu Jul 06, 2017 9:46 am

The Palmetto wrote:I went looking through the RP advertisement thread to try and find an RP I'd like. I wasn't disappointed.

Tag.

Would a hunter born in the Uni work? I'm thinking he hunts animals and trades their hides, meat, etc. for money and supplies. I want to make sure I get the lore right and don't mess anything up.

Of course. The setting here is a lot based off of pre-Revolutionary America, where tribes, though obviously these tribes are not limited to Native Americans, ala Honest Heats in New Vegas, traders, and trappers dominate much of the landscape, though civilization does exist.

by **The Palmetto** » Thu Jul 06, 2017 10:00 am

Sarejo wrote:
The Palmetto wrote:I went looking through the RP advertisement thread to try and find an RP I'd like. I wasn't disappointed.

Tag.

Would a hunter born in the Uni work? I'm thinking he hunts animals and trades their hides, meat, etc. for money and supplies. I want to make sure I get the lore right and don't mess anything up.

Of course. The setting here is a lot based off of pre-Revolutionary America, where tribes, though obviously these tribes are not limited to Native Americans, ala Honest Heats in New Vegas, traders, and trappers dominate much of the landscape, though civilization does exist.

Ahh, cool! What kind of beasts do we have in Mont? Same as in FO3, with exceptions? He's a hunter/trapper so that'll be relevant to a degree.

by **Ithalian Empire** » Thu Jul 06, 2017 10:03 am

Time for the incredibly lost brahmin herder from Wisconsin that i talked about months ago when this was first talked about.

by **The Palmetto** » Thu Jul 06, 2017 12:53 pm

Just a WIP I thought I'd share. I'll be going into detail with his appearance and biography but I want to be in a writing mood when I do it.

by **Shadowwell** » Thu Jul 06, 2017 2:07 pm

Might make an app later, you neeed any help witha bestiary or compendium or the like tell me Joe.

by **Sarejo** » Thu Jul 06, 2017 2:14 pm

The Palmetto wrote:
Sarejo wrote:
Of course. The setting here is a lot based off of pre-Revolutionary America, where tribes, though obviously these tribes are not limited to Native Americans, ala Honest Heats in New Vegas, traders, and trappers dominate much of the landscape, though civilization does exist.

Ahh, cool! What kind of beasts do we have in Mont? Same as in FO3, with exceptions? He's a hunter/trapper so that'll be relevant to a degree.

Yeah we'll just use the already defined East Coast bestiary for now, and as people suggest ideas I'll add them in at my discretion.

Shadowwell wrote:Might make an app later, you neeed any help witha bestiary or compendium or the like tell me Joe.

I always keep you in mind for those sorts of things, mate.

by **Kentucky Fried Land** » Thu Jul 06, 2017 2:21 pm

I'm tagging this too. I'd hope I'm in it for the long run, considering I'm a Co-OP.

by **Bloodbank** » Thu Jul 06, 2017 2:54 pm

Tagged

by **Vacif** » Thu Jul 06, 2017 3:55 pm

Sarejo wrote:
Vacif wrote:Same as Ormata.

Ormata wrote:Tagged, because I need more people to disappoint.

You two never fail to disappoint me by posting apps and only ever posting 3 IC posts <3

In our collective defense we make three really long posts.

I'd compare us to those that would only post apps, but mama always said never compare to the worst.

by **Beiarusia** » Thu Jul 06, 2017 3:59 pm

I'll probably see to joining depending on my schedule (which hopefully clears up a little bit).

by **Sarejo** » Fri Jul 07, 2017 1:24 am

Ormata wrote:
NS Nation Name: Ormata
(Image)
Skills:
Courser. Tracker’s training and ability to murder things into the
past life are such that she is extremely capable of doing so. Able
to both engage targets at close-quarters and to engage them
from afar, she’s known to prefer the the latter to the
former, though preferences don’t really come into play now,
do they?
Tracking. She did not earn her name for nothing. Capable of
finding her targets before engaging them, it’s something she’s
grown at doing. This isn’t to say that she can track a sparrow
in the desert, but if there are signs, she can find them. It’s
a result of both experience and her greater programming with
the Institute.
Strength. While in her Frame, she can pick-up a helluva lot
of stuff and move it with relatively little effort, along with
being quite capable of throwing a punch and breaking a few
bones.
Weaknesses:
Idealist. Tracker does things her way; no killing innocents, only
those who can fight with extreme prejudice. As such, she’s
made enemies long ago and continues to do such; the brood
of those she kills, after all, can grow-up fully hating
whoever the heck did kill said parents.
Emotions. While she can play-out a part, it’s not as though
Courser programming did a lot for her method of talking to
people. Calling her blunt is an understatement; she’s as
subtle as a screaming freighttrain.
Speed. With her Power Armor Frame, Tracker is not the fastest
thing on the block by a long shot, and brief periods of
speed are, simply put, unattainable while in that frame.
Noisy. With her Power Armor Frame, she is not the quietest
person on the block, you see, and on still nights this
could, very easily, present an issue. May be muffled by
fabric tied-about the servos but that presents jamming
issues in-case some bit gets stuck.

Equipment:
Hey Mama. FN FAL chambered in 7.62×51mm NATO.
Iron Sights
4 x 30-round detachable box magazine, 7.62×51mm NATO
12’ Makeshift Knife
Armor
PAF. Designed to carry whatever’s needed to be carried
and nothing more, really.
Dark Green Jumpsuit
Backpack, Oversized

Character Name: Tracker (R3-94)
Appearance:
Standing at a standard height of 5’7”, Tracker’s overall body type is a very thin one. She doesn’t look to have a greater amount of musculature about her, though looks are especially deceiving with her, and Tracker’s tanned skin goes rather well with a bit of longer hair. A scar upon her face, running from the cheek to ear, stands-out there, along with a scar along the length of her right arm. A tattoo's upon her chest, as well, though it’d take a brave person to ask what it is.

In terms of clothing, Tracker prefers to wear lighter clothing as sub-zero temperatures don’t really screw with her physically, with the issue of electronic components freezing having been fixed by Institute engineers some decade before her production. As such, she wears a loose shirt, gray, along with patched pants and a pair of boots. A vest might be added towards this, though that is less likely.

In terms of armor, Tracker has a certain look about her, with a dark green jumpsuit, patched to a greater extent, underneath a Power Armor Frame. The frame has, since its completion some years ago, been colored to a darker gray instead of the less-than-joyous white new frames have. This includes such things as the red clamps. Fixed onto the Frame is a light, salvaged from an old mining helmet she traded for, which is mounted onto the frame right shoulder joint. A pair of study boots are, as always, included.

She wears no jewelry.
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Occupation: Former Courser, Minuteman, Mailman

Likes:
Dislikes:
Fears:

Biography:
Developed in the Institute, made in the Institute, R3-94’s earliest role was that of the Courser. Built from the ground-up to be the most developed of Synthetics, designed and programmed to be a precision tool against those enemies of the Commonwealth. During such joyous events, if you asked her her opinion on it, she had none. She was like most other Coursers and the rest of the Synths, unquestioning in her task and role. In some ways, privately, she felt sorry for those out in the Wasteland, out in Boston and out with the Brotherhood of Steel. They didn’t have the scale of complete being, they didn’t have the certainty of knowing that where they were was where they were meant to be. In some ways, it was comforting.

Her earliest deployments in the Commonwealth, or really outside of it, involved several training operations out on the fringes of Brotherhood-controlled areas. She felt somewhat bad at killing those, yet they were soldiers. She comforted herself in saying that they had known what they were signing-up to do, that they were fully aware of the consequences. Yet there was a lingering feeling, a sense of what any sort of biological might call ‘doubt’. Upon her return to the Commonwealth, a diagnostics report uncovered this fact, causing that operation to be wiped from memory. They did not wish any sort of measure that could impede their units to start, even if it was just a small seed of doubt.

Another deployment of hers was in the Railroad area. Posing as another Synth wanting to run-away, that cell of the Railroad was particularly lax about their security. They accepted the Synth in, talked things over, and a deep-cover operation of the highest joys began. For over two months, she would stay quiet, attempting to gain more information yet never quite getting it. It was, in a way, annoying, both towards her and her superiors. Those others about her, though, were not of the sorts of soldiers; they were civilians, on what she considered to be an incorrect ideology and on what she considered to be a poor path. She would restrain the entirety of the compound, numbering some twenty, and would be commended on the skill which such a thing took.

Her combat operations spanned the entirety of the Boston Wasteland, infiltrating some fifteen separate installations from Minuteman Outposts to trader organizations to Diamond City, along with participating in the destruction of ten more installations ranging from Brotherhood of Steel Communications Relays to Minuteman hideouts and Railroad checkpoints. Such a thing would be, perhaps, amazing towards a normal survivor. For a Courser it was simply the job that had to be done.

R3-94’s issues with such operations, with the idea that the enemy never really made such an effort to find-out about the abilities of their enemies and that the whole entire situation had some people who were, perhaps, alright lead to doubts being created on the whole thing. However, due to the significant uptick in operations Coursers had to perform and the division of a good portion of said Coursers in the attempted destruction of a Minuteman operative meant that such niceties as memory wipes and returning to the Commonwealth were not always possible.

Her final operation was towards a Minuteman outpost, on the far fringes of the area, where she had orders to maintain silence until all information was received and the kill order was given. That order was never received. She did receive notice that the Institute had gone-up in smoke, that it had been destroyed, that most Synths were dead and that the Brotherhood of Steel was going away for good. R3-94 was, to state the least, conflicted.

On one hand, everything she had known and, well...known was gone. She had never really loved it; you couldn’t love something as cold and clinical as the Institute, even if R3-94 had the capacity to do so. She hadn’t really had that many connections to people there, either. On the other hand...there hadn’t been much post for the Courser. Everything she had worked towards, everything she had done, it had been done for other people. She was, for a good while, lost on what she should do. It wasn’t as though she could fight on; the Institute was dead. All she would be doing would be prolonging the death and killing more people whose deaths would mean nothing and whose lives could do so much more. All she would be doing was cause issues, nothing more; she couldn’t change the Boston Wasteland. She most definitely couldn’t change it like that.

R3-94, then a ‘Monica’, would leave the Minutemen, give-up her cover job with those guys, selling what she had and purchasing a hunting rifle, bolt-action, before setting-off into the Wasteland. She’d figured-out what, exactly, to do; she’d been trained to kill. Killing the normal people, well, that simply wouldn’t do anything, now would it. Yet killing bandits, enemies, people who simply made others’ lives worse and tried to gain something, that would give some meaning to it all. That’d make it just a bit better. Over the next two years, her study towards the art of precise murder would lead to many raider groups disbanding entirely, with many a caravan being saved from a mile away, and with a good few settlements surviving the harsh years and violent births of themselves, that people would live. In the end, she’d found it good.

Her services would be enlisted by, oddly enough, the Minutemen themselves; shipments going away, lost, by the riverfront, and they wished her to find it. Through some difficulty, R3-94 would find the shipment of rifles, which was to move by boat from their place of manufacture, to be under the ownership of raiders. There were approximately fifty of them. None of them precisely lived. Through this action, and the recovery of the shipment, she would earn the moniker “Tracker”. They much appreciated her efforts, after all. She would be hired for several more jobs, always accepting about half pay and never quite doing it for the pay. After all, it wasn’t as though she required food.

During her travels, and with the necessity to carry far larger quantities of items than what would reasonably be capable for a person, Tracker would come to implement a Power Armor Frame, a PAF, scrounged from the frames and armors of half a dozen bandits. Finding the armor to be inadequate at best, or really rather pieces of garbage, she’d strip the corroded metal for just the base frame. After all, it wasn’t as though one could explain-away moving a few tonnes of lost Minuteman cargo without such a frame, now, could you.

In her travels, she’d eventually move operations more into the Salem area, though by this time the Boston Wasteland had become as secure as she could reasonably help it to be. Raiders were afraid, or at least a good few of them were, the Minutemen seemed to have things under control, the Brotherhood of Steel wasn’t threatening the region with it’s purges or some other action, and so Tracker moved more northward, figuring that there should be more enclaves of humanity that might need some sort of aid and that she might be able to give it to them. Her journey to the Mont was somewhat interesting, as most major population centers were nuked to oblivion and back, and as such it was really rather quiet. Well, it was a quiet journey aside from the larger amounts of ghouls, deathclaws, and other really annoying freaks of nature which just come out of nuclear radiation. On the plus side, though, there weren’t that many centers of population outside of the “Everything in this zone dies” area that inherently comes from a nuke, which lead to more hundreds and not millions of ghouls. It was a better time than it could have been, to be put simply.

Tracker’s first experience with The Mont Wasteland involved a group of violent tribals near Middlesex, which lead to about fifteen individuals dead and her being fifteen rounds out. This was, in her mind, good news; if people like this existed, well, surely there was something she could do about cleaning-up the area, and the fact that such tribals were well-armed indicated that there were other forces nearby. After all, if there weren’t other forces nearby, there would be little reason for them to be so well-armed.

Moving upwards along Route 89, she’d come-across an Army Depot near Bolton. Stopping there, and subduing what security was left (Two Protectrons and a Mister Gutsy), Tracker found the remains of what seemed to be a National Guard warehouse, used to store reserve weapons and, strangely enough, a score of Canadian towed artillery which had had the breaches removed. Odd, but then again the US had invaded Canada and, most likely, had taken a good degree of said weaponry away from their northern Maple Leaf brothers.

However, what she did find that was very useful was a FN FAL, or rather a store of formerly Canadian weapons, along with several of the most joyous scopes, most which had broken-down by impressive rates. She took one of these guns, along with a significant number of magazines, and went on her way, sealing that Army Depot to ensure that none of the friggin’ tribals would get the guns. That would make her job significantly harder. Moving up 89, through Richmond while clearing-out a small infestation of ghouls there, she’d first come across the NukeDukes’ territory, Burlington. This would end amazingly poorly as they would confront her with a traveling fee, something which would lead to an amazing escalation of hostilities until some thirteen NukeDukes were dead. Seeing as she could not travel that way, Tracker went more northern, coming upon the West Burl Caravan Company.

Finding them to be reasonable individuals, Tracker would come into their service for some time, acting as a mailman as it were and when not doing that performing special tasks for the Company. Mostly this was in regards to finding lost, important packages which never made it to their destinations; the Company regarded reputation as important and did not take lightly the loss of such packages. She would exit their service on even terms, intending to travel a bit more and do more good than she had done prior.

She’s since come-upon the Uni, and before Tracker knew it, would start helping them as well. Tracker has, to her PAF, improved it somewhat in terms of servos and movement systems thanks to trading with various caravan companies and the cannibalization of several robots.
RP Examples (If none your bio will be used):

DO NOT REMOVE: Autumn

Accepted. Welcome to the nuclear winter the NCR always wanted.

by **Kyraina** » Fri Jul 07, 2017 2:43 pm

by **Shadowwell** » Fri Jul 07, 2017 3:28 pm

Hoew canon does our sruff have to be and how human must our characters be?

by **Sarejo** » Fri Jul 07, 2017 3:35 pm

Shadowwell wrote:Hoew canon does our sruff have to be and how human must our characters be?

What do you mean?

Fallout: The Mont [OOC/Open]

Fallout: The Mont [OOC/Open]

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