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by Rupudska » Sun Dec 31, 2017 2:00 pm
Hashkin wrote:Can I be a war reporter, and is there a Korean war in this universe
by Cylarn » Tue Jan 02, 2018 9:44 am
by Rupudska » Tue Jan 02, 2018 11:46 am
Cylarn wrote:
Obvious WiP, Rup. I've gotta read more. Also, may my character have the listed ability?
by Backatri » Tue Jan 02, 2018 1:59 pm
Rupudska wrote: And relax! The Vietnamese Lunar New Year is soon, and Hanoi has called a ceasefire for the duration until February 3rd. So you all still have a few days before the shit starts flying again. Just be sure to be sober by the fourth.
by Rupudska » Tue Jan 02, 2018 2:10 pm
Backatri wrote:Rupudska wrote: And relax! The Vietnamese Lunar New Year is soon, and Hanoi has called a ceasefire for the duration until February 3rd. So you all still have a few days before the shit starts flying again. Just be sure to be sober by the fourth.
I just noticed this. I've read and watched to many stories set during the Vietnam War to not be worried. And because I'm worried, will we be stationed near Hue, perchance?
by Hashkin » Tue Jan 02, 2018 3:02 pm
by Rupudska » Wed Jan 03, 2018 7:07 pm
by Rupudska » Fri Jan 05, 2018 1:11 pm
by Rupudska » Sat Jan 06, 2018 9:26 am
by Shark isle » Sat Jan 06, 2018 3:02 pm
by Rupudska » Sat Jan 06, 2018 3:31 pm
Shark isle wrote:Can i make a sniper who is so into his job that he actuallly gets pleasure from blowing the heads of both Charlie's and North Vietnamese soldiers?
by Rupudska » Sat Jan 06, 2018 4:27 pm
by Rupudska » Sat Jan 06, 2018 4:30 pm
by Iffria » Sat Jan 06, 2018 5:29 pm
by Rupudska » Sat Jan 06, 2018 5:49 pm
Iffria wrote:Appliquation:
Name: Kaniela Richardson
Age: 21
Rank: Corporal
Gender: Male
Appearance:
(Image)
Personality: Seems cold, but is very caring of his friends and family
Likes: Women
Dislikes: the war
Skills: Lived in Hawaii(or whatever it's called in this universe), spent most of his adolescent and teenage years hunting and camping. Vietnam is a tropical area which resembled Hawaii, and thus he is very stealthy, with mastery of rifles and knifes.
Hobbies/Interests: Likes to hunt and camping; also took boxing lessons.
Ability: (NOTE: This only applies if your character is a Witch.)
Flaws: Likes to be alone, and will try to accomplish his goals by himself.
Equipment: (List is preferred but not required)
AK47(or equivalent)
M1911A1(or equivalent)
USMC Combat Knife
Standard Equipment
Birthplace: Waimea, Hawaii Island
Ethnicity: Hawaiian (We're all Liberions here)
Political views: Doesn't like the war. He's already here, though, complaining don't matter.
Religious views: Protestant
Education: High-School Diploma
Biography: Born in Hawaii, Kaniela was the son of a ranch tycoon and a plantation worker. He spent his free time hunting, camping and boxing. When the time came for him to join the military, he was against the war and did not want to enlist. He finally relented when his father said he would be taken out of his will. He joined the Marines, and somehow wound up here.
RP Sample:
by Rupudska » Sat Jan 06, 2018 7:25 pm
by Ormata » Sat Jan 06, 2018 7:55 pm
Appliquation:
Likes:- Coffee, Cappuccino
Dislikes:
- Tea, English Breakfast
- Meat of any sort
- Fish
- The occasional smoke- Rations of any sort
Hobbies/Interests:
- Alcohol
- Hippies- Reading
- Chess
- Cats
- Hunting / Hiking (Not getting a lot of that)
- Fishing
Name: Phoebe Williams
Age: 18
Rank: First Lieutenant, Strike Witches
Gender: Female
Appearance:Standing at 5’3”, Phoebe is remarkably small for someone in the Strike Witches. Her physique is of a long-distance runner, musculature somewhat hidden though not entirely so. With skin that’s just a little naturally tan one might guess her heritage, and Phoebe’s hair, a midnight black, is kept in a ponytail when on-duty. Whenever not, one might find her with her hair down. Her eyes are the color of fresh-cut grass.
Personality:Aggressive in combat, passive while not, Phoebe takes-on two faces. She finds it reasonable to hunt-down every Viet Cong to have ever existed and napalm them until they’re burnt to a crisp, to bomb the jungles until very, very little of anything is left, and finds it more then welcome for the enemy to come willingly. It just removes the issue of having to find them, she would say. A dedicated ground-attacker, Phoebe holds those she supports, the Marines on the ground, to be the primary mission. Saving them is the important thing and why she is there, after all, and the best way to do that is the removal of all issues they would currently face. This isn’t to state that she dislikes or is incapable of dogfighting; she just prefers the ground. While not in combat she’s far more quiet, keeping to herself if anything else.
Skills:Phoebe’s skilled in taking-down those on the ground from a good enough distance, with CAS being a speciality of hers, and is fully capable of hitting enemy aircraft with her 20mm Cannon. Her skills in defensive measures, while not substandard, are nothing to boast about.
Ability:Get Fucked: Phoebe’s skill is that of the category of “Telekinesis”. She can move her aircraft at remarkably faster speeds than the norm, allowing her to jump into combat with the greatest of finesse along with running-away with just as much grace. Well, perhaps grace isn’t the correct word. Nevertheless, she’s outrun at least one MiG-21 and gotten to the rescue of more than one platoon in the jungle with this trick. At least measurement she’s hit 720 knots. Unfortunately, while this Ability is activated she cannot reasonably turn her vehicle due to fear of the wings ripping off or throwing her from it, and also suffers from extreme fatigue while at this speed. Furthermore, she must accelerate towards the speed regardless, normally at a rate of 50 knots per second per second.
Flaws:Phoebe, in combat, suffers from a measure in close-quarters combat. She’s taken the lessons, true, and gone-through the training, but that sort of thing never precisely stuck. In addition to this she prefers to stay in the back and take her well-placed shots. Remarkably passive while not in combat.
Equipment:- North American Rockwell OV-10 Bronco Riding Striker Unit, USMC Aviation Grey
Birthplace: Anchorage, Alaska- 1x 20mm Cannon
- 9mm Colt Commander
- 4x LAU-10 Rocket Pod
- 10x Hardpoints
Phoebe’s Riding Striker Unit is somewhat unique in it’s configuration; hosting two wings, with their respective engines, on a motorcycle-like fuselage, it’s markedly larger than most other Riding Striker Units. Measuring 12 feet in length with a 10 foot wingspan, the design retains the distinctive twin booms extending from the twin engines. A windshield of the sort one would find on motorcycles is also installed on the aircraft. Along the side is a most interesting bit of art. Supposedly she did it herself. Seven Vietnamese flags, small at just 2 inches by 1.5 inches, are listed in two columns alongside the colorful bit of art.
Ethnicity: White - Alaskan Native
Political Views:Overall disliking to talk on politics, Phoebe is a strong supporter of minority rights due to seeing the impact of the conservation system for natives in Alaska. With less parties moving towards that, she supports Republicans as they would be the closest party to move for civil rights. Fully against segregation within the ranks of the military or civilian world. Progressive in terms of her economic feelings due to government aid helping people get-by back in Anchorage.
Religious Views:Phoebe doesn’t really talk on that. In truth it’s due to the fact that she doesn’t quite have a religion and doesn’t want the friction there due to it.
Education:- Northwood Elementary School, Anchorage, Alaska, 1955-1958
Biography:
- Didris Preparatory School, Sacramento, California, 1958-1962
- Joint Witch Training Center, Salem, Massachusetts, 1962-1966Born in Anchorage, Alaska, Phoebe’s initial life was one of unrelenting boredom in most places. She would fish with her father, true, and that was always a fun experience, though after about the twelfth time she went only for his stories. He had such wonderful stories, stories of places that were not Anchorage, stories of his days in Manchuria and Gallia, of when he visited Fuso for the first time. The man had been a traveler in his younger years, a man who planted no roots anywhere and collected memories for a living; that is to say, he planted no roots until he came to Alaska, where he fell in love, both with the landscape and with his wife. In a way, Phoebe came to love the place as well, though she did so perhaps out of necessity. The pictures given to her, in her mind from her father, they were always faded from memory and not as real as the snow and tundra.
RP Sample: Here
They’d go-out, sometimes, in an old little plan to the inland parts of Alaska, to hunt there for a little bit and sell the meat when they got back. She’d prove, under her father’s tutorage, to be a good enough shot. It was all about timing, after all, and though Phoebe found it hard to stay still at times, after the first kill she knew what the reward was for staying still and really would to the best of her efforts. Sometimes a little dance would slip-through. It wasn’t her fault. Honest.
At home she’d go to school in a class of ten kids. It was a small school. Most of the work Phoebe found to be just a bit more difficult, mathematics turning into Egyptian hieroglyphs in her mind and English a slog to get to, to put the words all in their rightful place and to please the teacher in just the right way. Science somewhat came to her, though never fully. She wouldn’t get through much, though, only three years as her powers manifested at age eight. It was a quiet manifestation as they go. She’d play in the water, ice-cold as it was in Alaska, and the water would never touch her. She’d take a walk in the snow without her jacket and not get cold. She was found with dog-ears, once, even. Her parents, rightfully so, suspected that something other than puberty was up and took her to the doctor to get everything checked-out. There they were told the reasoning, the dangers that would be posed if she wasn’t to go to a training facility for Witches, things of that sort. They took her home that night, silent.
That next day, a Wednesday, Phoebe wouldn’t go to school. Her father took her out fishing, like normally on the weekends, and spent the day with his little girl. He told her stories of a starry sky, of his days in Britannia and Egypt, of treading through the desert. Her father didn’t cry, though. One last day, he told himself, one last day with his little girl. They went home and her and her mother knitted a scarf. The following day, she left for a different school, one all the way down in California.
True, she made friends there, but when she went home her parents were not there. Phoebe spent her days studying, for there was no plane to fly-away to hunt and no waters she wished to fish. She spent her days studying and reading, calling her parents whenever she was able to, and learning how to control what she had. Some of the other students preferred the “Legs” given to them, aerial little prop-driven things. She never did take to those, preferring the riding models. It wasn’t something one could place easily, but she rode the damn thing everywhere. Most students like to leave their work and practice at school, yet Phoebe found it to be enthralling. Her practice gave a small edge towards it all.
The course curriculum ended four years later, Phoebe graduating fifth in her class of thirty, and she was proud of it all. A recruiter at the school convinced her that more could be made of what she had done, that simply ending then and there would be a waste of time, that there was so much more potential towards what she could do. She could help people, save lives. She took the lines at face-value, enlisting and going to Salem for training there. It was much the same, though far, far more regimented. Years later, she would be deployed to Vietnam in 1966. Phoebe has been there since.
by Rupudska » Sat Jan 06, 2018 8:01 pm
Ormata wrote:Appliquation:(Image)
Likes:- Coffee, Cappuccino
Dislikes:
- Tea, English Breakfast
- Meat of any sort
- Fish
- The occasional smoke- Rations of any sort
Hobbies/Interests:
- Alcohol
- Hippies- Reading
- Chess
- Cats
- Hunting / Hiking (Not getting a lot of that)
- Fishing
Name: Phoebe Williams
Age: 18
Rank: First Lieutenant, Strike Witches
Gender: Female
Appearance:Standing at 5’3”, Phoebe is remarkably small for someone in the Strike Witches. Her physique is of a long-distance runner, musculature somewhat hidden though not entirely so. With skin that’s just a little naturally tan one might guess her heritage, and Phoebe’s hair, a midnight black, is kept in a ponytail when on-duty. Whenever not, one might find her with her hair down. Her eyes are the color of fresh-cut grass.
Personality:Aggressive in combat, passive while not, Phoebe takes-on two faces. She finds it reasonable to hunt-down every Viet Cong to have ever existed and napalm them until they’re burnt to a crisp, to bomb the jungles until very, very little of anything is left, and finds it more then welcome for the enemy to come willingly. It just removes the issue of having to find them, she would say. A dedicated ground-attacker, Phoebe holds those she supports, the Marines on the ground, to be the primary mission. Saving them is the important thing and why she is there, after all, and the best way to do that is the removal of all issues they would currently face. This isn’t to state that she dislikes or is incapable of dogfighting; she just prefers the ground. While not in combat she’s far more quiet, keeping to herself if anything else.
Skills:Phoebe’s skilled in taking-down those on the ground from a good enough distance, with CAS being a speciality of hers, and is fully capable of hitting enemy aircraft with her 20mm Cannon. Her skills in defensive measures, while not substandard, are nothing to boast about.
Ability:Get Fucked: Phoebe’s skill is that of the category of “Telekinesis”. She can move her aircraft at remarkably faster speeds than the norm, allowing her to jump into combat with the greatest of finesse along with running-away with just as much grace. Well, perhaps grace isn’t the correct word. Nevertheless, she’s outrun at least one MiG-21 and gotten to the rescue of more than one platoon in the jungle with this trick. At least measurement she’s hit 720 knots. Unfortunately, while this Ability is activated she cannot reasonably turn her vehicle due to fear of the wings ripping off or throwing her from it, and also suffers from extreme fatigue while at this speed. Furthermore, she must accelerate towards the speed regardless, normally at a rate of 50 knots per second per second.
Flaws:Phoebe, in combat, suffers from a measure in close-quarters combat. She’s taken the lessons, true, and gone-through the training, but that sort of thing never precisely stuck. In addition to this she prefers to stay in the back and take her well-placed shots. Remarkably passive while not in combat.
Equipment:- North American Rockwell OV-10 Bronco Riding Striker Unit, USMC Aviation Grey
Birthplace: Anchorage, Alaska- 1x 20mm Cannon
- 9mm Colt Commander
- 4x LAU-10 Rocket Pod
- 10x Hardpoints
Phoebe’s Riding Striker Unit is somewhat unique in it’s configuration; hosting two wings, with their respective engines, on a motorcycle-like fuselage, it’s markedly larger than most other Riding Striker Units. Measuring 12 feet in length with a 10 foot wingspan, the design retains the distinctive twin booms extending from the twin engines. A windshield of the sort one would find on motorcycles is also installed on the aircraft. Along the side is a most interesting bit of art. Supposedly she did it herself. Seven Vietnamese flags, small at just 2 inches by 1.5 inches, are listed in two columns alongside the colorful bit of art.
Ethnicity: White - Alaskan Native
Political Views:Overall disliking to talk on politics, Phoebe is a strong supporter of minority rights due to seeing the impact of the conservation system for natives in Alaska. With less parties moving towards that, she supports Republicans as they would be the closest party to move for civil rights. Fully against segregation within the ranks of the military or civilian world. Progressive in terms of her economic feelings due to government aid helping people get-by back in Anchorage.
Religious Views:Phoebe doesn’t really talk on that. In truth it’s due to the fact that she doesn’t quite have a religion and doesn’t want the friction there due to it.
Education:- Northwood Elementary School, Anchorage, Alaska, 1955-1958
Biography:
- Didris Preparatory School, Sacramento, California, 1958-1962
- Joint Witch Training Center, Salem, Massachusetts, 1962-1966Born in Anchorage, Alaska, Phoebe’s initial life was one of unrelenting boredom in most places. She would fish with her father, true, and that was always a fun experience, though after about the twelfth time she went only for his stories. He had such wonderful stories, stories of places that were not Anchorage, stories of his days in Manchuria and Gallia, of when he visited Fuso for the first time. The man had been a traveler in his younger years, a man who planted no roots anywhere and collected memories for a living; that is to say, he planted no roots until he came to Alaska, where he fell in love, both with the landscape and with his wife. In a way, Phoebe came to love the place as well, though she did so perhaps out of necessity. The pictures given to her, in her mind from her father, they were always faded from memory and not as real as the snow and tundra.
RP Sample: Here
They’d go-out, sometimes, in an old little plan to the inland parts of Alaska, to hunt there for a little bit and sell the meat when they got back. She’d prove, under her father’s tutorage, to be a good enough shot. It was all about timing, after all, and though Phoebe found it hard to stay still at times, after the first kill she knew what the reward was for staying still and really would to the best of her efforts. Sometimes a little dance would slip-through. It wasn’t her fault. Honest.
At home she’d go to school in a class of ten kids. It was a small school. Most of the work Phoebe found to be just a bit more difficult, mathematics turning into Egyptian hieroglyphs in her mind and English a slog to get to, to put the words all in their rightful place and to please the teacher in just the right way. Science somewhat came to her, though never fully. She wouldn’t get through much, though, only three years as her powers manifested at age eight. It was a quiet manifestation as they go. She’d play in the water, ice-cold as it was in Alaska, and the water would never touch her. She’d take a walk in the snow without her jacket and not get cold. She was found with dog-ears, once, even. Her parents, rightfully so, suspected that something other than puberty was up and took her to the doctor to get everything checked-out. There they were told the reasoning, the dangers that would be posed if she wasn’t to go to a training facility for Witches, things of that sort. They took her home that night, silent.
That next day, a Wednesday, Phoebe wouldn’t go to school. Her father took her out fishing, like normally on the weekends, and spent the day with his little girl. He told her stories of a starry sky, of his days in Britannia and Egypt, of treading through the desert. Her father didn’t cry, though. One last day, he told himself, one last day with his little girl. They went home and her and her mother knitted a scarf. The following day, she left for a different school, one all the way down in California.
True, she made friends there, but when she went home her parents were not there. Phoebe spent her days studying, for there was no plane to fly-away to hunt and no waters she wished to fish. She spent her days studying and reading, calling her parents whenever she was able to, and learning how to control what she had. Some of the other students preferred the “Legs” given to them, aerial little prop-driven things. She never did take to those, preferring the riding models. It wasn’t something one could place easily, but she rode the damn thing everywhere. Most students like to leave their work and practice at school, yet Phoebe found it to be enthralling. Her practice gave a small edge towards it all.
The course curriculum ended four years later, Phoebe graduating fifth in her class of thirty, and she was proud of it all. A recruiter at the school convinced her that more could be made of what she had done, that simply ending then and there would be a waste of time, that there was so much more potential towards what she could do. She could help people, save lives. She took the lines at face-value, enlisting and going to Salem for training there. It was much the same, though far, far more regimented. Years later, she would be deployed to Vietnam in 1966. Phoebe has been there since.
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