Fallout: Lost Plague (OOC/RPG/OPEN)

[Tayner]

<IC>
<Discord>
<The Pub>

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The year is 2281, over 200 years since the Great War burned the very earth in a great holocaust of nuclear fire. The world as we knew it, was all but obliterated. However, Humanity survived by taking to great underground vaults, bastions of nuclear hardened safety buried beneath the face of the earth. Humanity would return to the face of the earth many years later, departing the great vaults to brave the new world left behind by the atomic bombs.

Our story starts in the Georgian Wasteland, home to many such vaults. However, the dangers of post apocalyptic America are prevalent in their own form here. Mutants, wildlife, and radiation still pose a threat to humanity, but an even greater threat is humanity itself. Slavers, raiders, swamp folk, and more threaten the good and honest settlers of the Georgia. However, possibly one of the the greatest threats to humanity is found in rumors of a deadly and painful sickness that plagues the people of the Georgian Wasteland.

Although this sickness hasn't spread too far yet, it is likely to take second seat to humanity's infighting and warring, because war...

War never changes.

---

This RP is set in the state of Georgia, within the Fallout universe as of the year 2281. The RP, while open world, will revolve around a main quest line that players are encouraged to participate in. However, players are allowed to take on side quests, or pursue their own agendas. Player interaction is strongly encouraged to allow for the best storytelling and development. Finally, as always, have fun with writing and exploring the Georgian Wasteland!

• OP is god
• My Co-OP(s) are prophet(s)
• Nationstates Rules still apply
• OP/Co-OP reserve the right to deny your application with or without any basis
• No powergaming or metagaming
• No arguing, flaming, baiting, or trolling.
• Don't fuck up
• Failure to adhere to any of these rules may result in character death and/or Moderation intervention

Instructions:

• Fill out all fields unless otherwise specified.
• (Delete all in parentheses.)
• Grey=optional.

Code: Select all

[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Age:[/b]
[b]Gender:[/b]
[b]Race:[/b]
[b]Appearance:[/b]
[b]Height:[/b]
[b]Weight:[/b]

[spoiler=SPECIAL][b]SPECIAL:[/b] (40 points assigned to all statistics. Minimum of 1 and maximum of 10 per statistic)
[b]Strength:[/b]
[b]Perception:[/b]
[b]Endurance:[/b]
[b]Charisma:[/b]
[b]Intelligence:[/b]
[b]Agility:[/b]
[b]Luck:[/b]
[/spoiler]
[b]Strengths:[/b]
[b]Weaknesses:[/b] (At least two reasonable weaknesses)
[b]Trait:[/b] (To be assigned by OP)
[b]Equipment:[/b]

[color=grey][b]Personality:[/b][/color]
[color=grey][b]Likes:[/b][/color]
[color=grey][b]Dislikes:[/b][/color]

[b]Bio:[/b] (At least two paragraphs)

[b]RP Example:[/b]

[b][color=darkred]DO NOT REMOVE: 2077[/color][/b]

OP:

• Tayner

Co-OPs:

• Beiarusia
• Anowa

ROSTER

Creektown
• Samson — Vacif

Greensboro
• Adèle Benoit — Anowa
• Buck Graham — Tayner
• Julia Greene — Anowa
• Pavel Koussivitzky — Anowa
• Ennis van der Meer — Beiarusia

Below are some useful resources for the RP.

• Fallout Wiki
• Map

Main Quests:

• N/A

Side Quests:

• N/A

[Tayner]

Active Quests

---

Main Quests:

• The Drive [Greensboro]

Side Quests:

• N/A

[Tayner]

Name: Buck Graham
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Race: Human (Caucasian)
Appearance: Visual Aid. Blue eyes, scarring on right bicep.
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 185lbs

SPECIAL: (40 points assigned to all statistics. Minimum of 1 and maximum of 10 per statistic)
Strength: 7
Perception: 7
Endurance: 6
Charisma: 4
Intelligence: 4
Agility: 5
Luck: 7

Strengths: Hunting, tracking, marksmanship
Weaknesses: Fear of drowning, crass/crude personality, easily angered
Trait: (To be assigned by OP)
Equipment: .308 Hunting Rifle, 10mm Pistol, x17 .308 rounds, x24 10mm rounds, leather armor, steel toe boots, knife, rags, healing powder, and two day's food and a canteen of water.

Personality: Crass and crude, Buck relies on dirty jokes and nonchalant insults to communicate. However, if he's your friend he'll stick with you due to a strong sense of loyalty he has.
Likes: Whiskey, grilled mirelurk, silence, joking around
Dislikes: Wet socks, swamps, ghouls, liars

Bio: Born to two raiders in a small camp in the middle of nowhere in Georgia, Buck had a rough childhood. Beatings and being exposed to the vices of the wasteland early on, it's a miracle that he didn't become a junkie by 10. However, one day his parents would run afoul of a nearby town's militia, and the camp he lived in would be raised to the ground by a militia of townsfolk. Buck would live, discovered by a militiaman who would spare him and take him in. He would go on to be raised in Greensboro by a man named Jack Graham.

Buck would learn how to live honestly, working as a spare hand on Jack's farm, although he would find his true calling to be in the woods, hunting. Eventually he would take the last name Graham in honor of the man who saved him from a life of vice, although he did keep some of his personality. While his upbringing gave him a mixed sense of morality, it is his values of loyalty and honesty that separated him from the life of a raider. Eventually Jack would pass on, leaving Buck his small homestead.

RP Example: OP Privilege

DO NOT REMOVE: 2077

[Anowa]

App'll be up in a bit

[Newark Aristocracy]

Name:Kohan the 163rd
Age:30
Gender:M
Race:Caucasian
Appearance: Young American male with abnormal face,looks very fit,has upper clef.
Height:5.5 ft
Weight: 140lg

SPECIAL: (40 points assigned to all statistics. Minimum of 1 and maximum of 10 per statistic)
Strength:10
Perception:10
Endurance:9
Charisma:1
Intelligence:1
Agility:8
Luck:1

Strengths: Able to use most,if not all weapons you may find out in the wasteland
Weaknesses:Often Forgets things,distracted easily
Trait: ?

Personality:
Likes: Tanks and power armor
Dislikes: china,coummuneism

Bio: (At least two paragraphs)
Born in Rivet City,his young life was unique at the least.
At age 18,his father left the city and he also left it.
He moved to Megaton,where he later met The Lone Wanderer.
He became sheriff of Megaton for a few weeks after Lucas Simms was killed by Mr Burke,whom was then arrested by The Lone Wanderer,who later executed him publicly at the center of the crater.

His father was later killed in a Enclave attack in the Capital Wasteland.
He traveled to Georgia with a caravan carrying supplies to Macon and Sparta.
He saw the scenery and felt the area was a good place to settle in.
He's heard the rumor himself,and he is very interested in it.

RP Example:Error 404:rp_example.exe not found. Please re boot.

DO NOT REMOVE: 2077

[Anowa]

Name:Kohan the 163rd
Age:30
Gender:M
Race:Caucasian
Appearance: Young American male,looks very fit
Height:5.5 ft
Weight: 140lg

SPECIAL: (40 points assigned to all statistics. Minimum of 1 and maximum of 10 per statistic)
Strength:10
Perception:10
Endurance:9
Charisma:1
Intelligence:1
Agility:10
Luck:1

Strengths: Able to use most,if not all weapons you may find out in the wasteland
Weaknesses:Often Forgets things,distracted easily (At least two reasonable weaknesses)
Trait: (To be assigned by OP)

Personality:
Likes: Tanks and power armor
Dislikes: china,coummuneism

Bio: (At least two paragraphs)
Born in Vault 101 (or,was he?),his young life was unique at the least.
At age 18,his father left the vault and he also left it.
His Father died in a Enclave attack.

RP Example:Error 404:rp_example.exe not found. Please re boot.

DO NOT REMOVE: 2077

I can read between the lines.
You aren't allowed to app as the Lone Wanderer.

[Newark Aristocracy]

Just edited app

[Beiarusia]

Name: Ennis van der Meer
Age: 14
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Appearance:

Lanky and somewhat tall for her age with sharp features, fair skin, freckles, and pale-blue eyes. Hair is orange-red, mid-length, and often worn loose and messy. Both arms replaced from shoulder-down with crude but functional prosthetics (left is semi-realistic; right is obviously mechanical). Typically bandaged from mishaps or else covered in dirt/grime/grease, but could be considered reasonably cute if cleaned up properly.

Height: 5'2" (157.5 cm)
Weight: 91 lb (41.3 kg)

S.P.E.C.I.A.L.
STR: 4 | PER: 7 | END: 3 | CHA: 4 | INT: 9 | AGI: 5 | LCK: 8

Strengths:

Computers & Robots
A prodigy of manipulating both software and hardware. Understands the fundamentals of robots, computers, and electronic components, and can quickly learn when encountering unknown systems via trial and error (or else taking it apart and putting it back together again). With time (and resources) Ennis can give life to dead technology by building/repairing robots, splicing into computer networks, or when problems inevitably occur initiate an emergency shutdown.

Jury-Rigging
Knows how to bypass missing or damaged components with available junk. Can fix pretty much anything, from a toaster to a Mister Handy, and although such repairs may not always be pretty it'll work good as new. Has limited experience maintaining traditional firearms; could repair laser weaponry if allowed to tinker.

The Power of Big Words
To be fair, Ennis is not charismatic whatsoever, more-so due to her abrasive personality than speaking capabilities (or lack thereof), but she knows how to weave difficult-to-pronounce words into conversation for her own benefit. This allows her to barter somewhat effectively for necessary equipment by simply confusing or misleading merchants who don't understand the intrinsic details. Unfortunately this only works against unknowing persons. The educated aren't as likely to be fooled.

Weaknesses:

Battery Powered
Her prosthetic arms are powered by Small Energy Cells (SEC) and must be replaced or otherwise recharged. At home this is a minor inconvenience, however, if traveling, or else away from home for extended periods, this could prove problematic. Fortunately, changing the SEC is simple, but availability may be limited.

Butterfingers
Ennis is clumsy. Very, very clumsy. She often drops things or injures herself or, as has happened on multiple occasions, tripped over her own two feet.

Do Not Bend
Despite having survived a traumatic injury (at the expense of both arms) Ennis does not possess a remarkable constitution. Cannot endure moderate pain, her immune system isn't the greatest (has a perpetual runny nose), and to add insult to injury she has allergies (pollen, fur, and lactose intolerance). She is not very strong nor is she very athletic. Easily exhausted from manual labor, especially when working outside in high temperatures.

Talentless
Although a savant with computers and robotics, Ennis is practically useless in other tasks. She cannot cook, sew, farm, or keep a houseplant from withering, her organizational skills are a disaster that only she understands, her medical knowledge is practically zero, and in a fight she's more likely to injure herself than anyone else. This is not a simple matter of having yet to learn new skills, Ennis just can't do anything correctly regardless of effort. A curse.

Trait: (To be assigned by OP)

Personality:

Ennis knows that she is smarter than most people so has developed a superiority complex. Smug and arrogant, most townsfolk see her as condescending, rude, and overall a dislikable person. Not that she cares much of what others think. She is quick to anger and is easily frustrated when things don't go as planned; not violent but more than willing to attack people/creatures/objects in a tirade of verbal abuse. Will hold a grudge. Doesn't have many friends so surrounds herself with robots and machines. Is an unashamed technophile and possibly a robophile.

Likes: Computers, Fancy Lads Snack Cakes, Robots, Tinkering
Dislikes: Dogs, Hot Weather, Manual Labor, Stupid People

Equipment:

- Caps x57

- Grandfather's AEP7 Laser Pistol
- Mini Nuke (inert)
- Small Energy Cell x10

- Denim Coveralls
- Goggles
- Wide-brimmed Hat
- Work Boots

- Canteen
- Cigarettes x7
- Lighter
- Mentats x3
- Messenger Bag
- Repair Kit and Tools
- Wine Bottle (half)

Bio:

Born to transients, Ennis would spend much of her early childhood wandering from settlement to settlement. To some, this existence would be tolerable — to witness new and amazing sights and locations daily; to be free to go wherever and whenever one pleased — but Ennis was the daughter of addicts who prioritized their next dose of Jet or Psycho as opposed to their only child. The family subsisted by working various odd jobs in or near the settlements they frequented. Sometimes they resorted to thievery. A few times they robbed a passing traveler. Most of the time they simply begged for handouts. Ennis, too young to understand, was oftentimes used as a prop to garner pity, or to squeeze into places her parents could not (such as through windows). On numerous occasions they threatened to sell the girl if she misbehaved and even entertained offers. The family visited Greensboro semi-regularly and were known by the townsfolk. During one such visit, Ennis was left alone outside the General Store as her parents ran an errand. They never returned. A day passed before anyone realized the girl was still waiting in the street, scared and alone, her skin burned red by the sun. A halfhearted effort was made to find her parents, and when that inevitably failed a discussion was had on what to do with the child. Plain and simple: nobody wanted the burden. Only one man volunteered to raise the child.

Marcus van der Leer was old, perhaps nearing seventy — not that he bothered to count the years — but was well respected throughout Greensboro for his helpful demeanor and no-nonsense personality. A mechanic and robot enthusiast, Marcus was commonly sought for repairs and thus made an easy living. Disappointed by the unwillingness of the townsfolk to help an abandoned child, and perhaps motivated by the loss of his wife and son years prior, he took it upon himself to care for the girl. Ennis was distrustful of the man initially but, over time, and some misbehaving, would come to view his garage as the home she never had. Marcus was like a grandfather to the child, his robots a family, and for the first time in a long time she was genuinely happy.

Ennis was seriously injured a few years later when she was twelve as she scavenged for junk a few miles outside of town. She had wandered off from Marcus and, in a turn of bad luck, encountered a raider and his dog. When she tried to run the dog was loosed, the crazed beast mauling her arms as she tried weakly to protect herself. Ennis should have died, and would have, too, as the raider had no intention of letting her live, but again she was saved by Marcus who surprised the man and his pet. Ennis, unconscious from blood lost, was rushed back to town by her grandfather. Surprisingly, she had managed to keep the dog from tearing at her face and neck during the attack, but her arms were savaged beyond hope, and with infection setting in required amputation. The local doctor was skilled, able to work miracles with inadequate supplies, yet Ennis barely survived the operation. Recovery would prove a long road. Ennis fell into a depression and had trouble adjusting to her new handicap. Marcus did everything in his power to help his granddaughter, but there was little he could do. Not alone.

Not long after Ennis had physically recovered, she and Marcus would leave Greensboro to visit an acquaintance of his a few settlements over. When they returned a few weeks later Ennis had been outfitted with the prosthetics Marcus had built for her. It took some time to adjust but eventually she was more-or-less back to normal. The incident was quickly forgotten; life continued.

Marcus van der Meer passed away little more than a year previously. Ennis still lives in the garage just outside town, just her and the robots she and her grandfather repaired. Since the death of her grandfather, Ennis has been content to continue in his place, offering her mechanical know-how to those willing to pay for repairs.

RP Example: Ace Combat: Broken Line

DO NOT REMOVE: 2077

[Tayner]

DO NOT REMOVE: 2077

DENIED.

Alright, so, there's a lot wrong with this.

• Your "Appearance" tab is too vague, it needs to be descriptive. "Young American male" can mean a lot of things.
• Your SPECIAL stats are min/maxed. That's not good. While it does meet the rules, understand that it's not good form. It also adds up to 42 instead of the allotted 40 points.
• You didn't delete anything in parentheses, like the OP asks of you.
• Your biography is too short, too vague, and otherwise deniable. It is supposed to deal in absolutes, you can't put a "(or was he?)" in there. There's no Vault 131 in the Capital Wasteland, and how did he get to Georgia from Washington D.C.?
• You lack an actual RP sample, if you don't have one write a good one in a well drafted paragraph or more.
• Spelling and grammar mistakes are prevalent throughout the app. Fix them.

Until all of these outstanding problems are rectified, then my ruling will stand.

[Tayner]

Also, general announcement, I've updated the application to include an equipment tab. Please make note of this change and reflect it in any new applications. Thanks.

[Sarderistan]

Tag!

[Newark Aristocracy]

Edited it again.

[Anowa]

Name: Pavel Koussivitzky
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance:

Height: 6'5
Weight: 276 lbs

SPECIAL:
Strength: 8
Perception: 5
Endurance: 9
Charisma: 4
Intelligence: 5
Agility: 5
Luck: 4

Strengths: Firearms Knowledge (Guns), Quick with his mouth (Speech), Green thumb (Survival)
Weaknesses: Ignorant to many non-simple machinations (Science), Not the best salesperson (Barter)
Trait: большой грустный - In tough fights (as determined by OP), Pavel gains a bonus to Strength, Endurance, and Perception (+1 to each skill), allowing him to fight harder, longer, and better. However, after the dust settles, he suffers a 12 hour drawback of Intelligence and Charisma (-1).

Equipment: AK-103 (6 Magazines, 43 Rounds), PMM Makarov (3 magazines 12 rounds), Altyn helmet, KLMK pattern Afghanka, GOR LBV, 6b13 Body armour.

Personality: Cheery, sarcastic, and amiable, Pavel is described as a slow to anger but nigh immovable war machine. His status as a laughing soldier is mostly to hide the mental and emotional havoc wreaked on him from a long hard life of combat and loss. Underneath his cheery and friendly demeanor is a depressed and broken man.

Bio: Pavel Koussivitzky comes from a rather long line of Russians, descended from the Soviet consul-general stationed in Houston, Texas. Pavel was taught from early age to have a way with words over weapons, though as he aged, it was clear the boy was made for the sword, rather than the pen. Despite this, and despite living on a farm based out of a Vault, Pavel lived a simple life, helping those few in his community with his warrior mind and hardy body. Though like all things in the wasteland, things are not simple forever.

Raiders attempted to sack his home and take his people as slaves, while they were turned away, they had captured his sister, and had killed many, leaving a number of others to a fate of death from infection of bloodloss. The boy had something inside him snap like a twig, and he marched. With his father, he would take gear long since passed down, and make way to bring an unholy wrath and unending fury of lead and fire upon those who would harm his people. But it was not to be, after tracking them for miles, he instead simply found the body of his sister, mangled, beaten, broken and left to rot. His father would turn back, Pavel following, lost in mind and in action. His father would hang himself 4 days afterwards, his mother, stricken by grief, would also pass a month later.

Pavel, now mentally and emotionally exhausted, would begin a path of anger and hate. He would take up arms again, leaving in the night, and would never be seen in his home again. He would head east, and after nearly 2 years he would find the raiders who had ruined his family, left him a broken man, and had caused grief to so many others. Over a period of 4 months, he would wage a war of attrition and psychological manipulation on them, in a subconscious want to make them suffer as he had suffered, sleepless nights, emotional baggage, mental trauma, and pain... so much pain.

When it came down to it, there was a single raider left, broken, sobbing, weak and vulnerable. Yet Pavel stayed his hand. As his experience surveying this lone raider attempt to flee through forests, roads, towns and plains, he didn't strike, and his mission of fury turned to one of forgiveness. The longer he watched, the more he sympathized, the more he saw familiarity of his own pain with this sole raider. Until, one night, he approached. A long night of conversation, worry and fear came out, the duo had, in one conversation, formed a sort of bind, unique in the world.

The lifetime of raiders is short, their gangs having high turnover rates and high rates of betrayal. Soon Pavel's sense of righteousness and justice turned to one of regret, as he learned about the so called monsters he had killed, humans, families... People. They had long since ceased to be the same ones who had killed his sister, and brought such pain upon his family.

Now Pavel and the raider stick together, Pavel doing it as an act of repentance, for the actions he had performed were to be directed upon others, and not the raider and her kin.

RP Example: wat

DO NOT REMOVE: 2077

Name: Adèle Benoit
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Appearance:

Height: 5'8
Weight: 137 lbs

SPECIAL:
Strength: 5
Perception: 7
Endurance: 10
Charisma: 3
Intelligence: 5
Agility: 5
Luck: 5

Strengths: Well versed in herbalism (Medicine/Survival), Light on her feet (Sneak), Lockpicking (...Lockpicking)
Weaknesses: Found wanting of a social filter (Speech), more used to taking over buying (Barter), notably wary of bombs (Explosives)
Trait:
Equipment: Reinforced Leather Armour, Remington 870 (14 000 Shot Shells, 5 1 1/8 Oz Slugs), bottle of anti-psychotics (14 pills, Pimozide), canteen, 12 caps.

Personality: Despite outwards appearances, and an initially cold and dismissive personality, Adèle is an empathetic, if blunt individual. A lifetime of being shunned or outcast from respected communities has lead to an individual who is both hardened and extraordinarily caring to those she obtains a connection to.


Bio: Born in the swamplike ruins of Nawlins, Adèle has had a arduous life, she was born different, and even as a baby she was seen as a bad omen, oddly colored and pigmented eyes seen as somewhat par for the course in the wasteland. But it wasn't until she started speaking where things became drastically clear... and drastically different. The eyes were simply part of a package deal, Adèle would see things that weren't there, sometimes things that had yet to happen, sometimes they would happen like she saw, and sometimes not. She would speak to her parents, and to the few doctors in the community. The educated in the community would see it simply as a chronic, indefinite psychosis. But unfortunately, the wasteland is severaly lacking in educated individuals.

Adèle at the age of 7 was rousted from her sleep by a mob, and the crackling of fire. She would escape, to chantings of 'burn the witch' and 'kill the anti-christ', but her parents, would not. Left to fend to herself, she fled to the doctor, the very same who had diagnosed her and helped her before, but in fear for his life, he turned the child away. Adèle, seeing no other alternative, simply ran, she would run until her legs couldn't move, and she couldn't stay awake.

When she did wake up next, it was in a cage, with a metal collar around her neck, it's beeping reminding her of the already terrifying hallucinations she already had. In the hands of slavers, she would face torment, abuse in all manner of variety, sleepless nights, and a permanent worsening of her condition due to the traumas. For nearly a decade, she would be passed from owner to owner, back to slavers, back out to lecherous or slavedriving owners. Despite the destructive state of such a life, Adèle learned more than she forgot, skills that would one day prove useful, from geology, to herbalism, firearms experience. From not only her own experiences, but from the testimonies from other slaves.

Eventually being bought by a band of comparatively benevolent raiders. Removing her collar for the final time. During her first few days with the raiders, they clued in to why the girl's rate was so cheap, the psychosis she had been enduring wordlessly for so long was finally let a verbal out, just every so often. Once again Adèle started to see things, from simple tricks of the ear, to shadowpeople, to enduring endless whispers. One vision stood out, a large, green monster, acting like a shadow s it dwindled her small band of acquaintances down to nothing. She thought nothing of it, for nearly a year.

Then the green thing came, and once again Adèle had to run. But there was no escaping such a beast, it caught up to her, exhausted, alone, broken and awaiting death. But the beast had stayed it's hand. Instead of killing, massacring the woman where she lay, it spoke, and then, Adèle did as well. A great many things were learned over such a discussion. At the end of it all, Adèle went with the beast, seeing another broken individual, shattered and reforged under the clutch of fate. Two birds of a lonely flock, flying together.

RP Example: wat

DO NOT REMOVE: 2077

[Beiarusia]

Name:Kohan the 163rd

First thing I noticed is the bio. It reads less like two paragraphs and more like a bullet point listing of events. Appearance could be more detailed, and looking at his stats I'd expect him to be an imbecile who can't hold a conversation. Stat-dumping isn't good. Going back to the bio, I'd avoid tying yourself into established plotlines because that changes everything on your whim. Additionally, this is post-Fallout 3 so the Enclave would no longer be active in Washington. Could also go more in-depth on the arduous trek from Washington to Georgia because that's a long journey.

[Anowa]

Name:Kohan the 163rd
Age:30
Gender:M
Race:Caucasian
Appearance: Young American male with abnormal face,looks very fit,has upper clef.
Height:5.5 ft
Weight: 140lg

SPECIAL: (40 points assigned to all statistics. Minimum of 1 and maximum of 10 per statistic)
Strength:10
Perception:10
Endurance:9
Charisma:1
Intelligence:1
Agility:8
Luck:1

Strengths: Able to use most,if not all weapons you may find out in the wasteland
Weaknesses:Often Forgets things,distracted easily
Trait: ?

Personality:
Likes: Tanks and power armor
Dislikes: china,coummuneism

Bio: (At least two paragraphs)
Born in Rivet City,his young life was unique at the least.
At age 18,his father left the city and he also left it.
He moved to Megaton,where he later met The Lone Wanderer.
He became sheriff of Megaton for a few weeks after Lucas Simms was killed by Mr Burke,whom was then arrested by The Lone Wanderer,who later executed him publicly at the center of the crater.

His father was later killed in a Enclave attack in the Capital Wasteland.
He traveled to Georgia with a caravan carrying supplies to Macon and Sparta.
He saw the scenery and felt the area was a good place to settle in.
He's heard the rumor himself,and he is very interested in it.

RP Example:Error 404:rp_example.exe not found. Please re boot.

DO NOT REMOVE: 2077

Typically people of a bloodline where one name is used for 163 generations, there's a surname. Furthermore, to have a family that is 163 generations, it's been around since before the Indus Valley Civilization existed (2600 BCE) and has an unbroken lineage of having a male born, which given all that's happened in human history is pretty unlikely AKA impossible.

Young American. The United states of America is a nation of industrious immigrants from every tangible walk of life and with all manner of background. Americans are individuals who are living in with the intent to become a citizen of said nation, or are already citizens of said nation. What American is, is a national identiy, what is isn't is an ethnicity, race, or religion. Young American is about as descriptive as "Young Person', it is about as lazy as one can get, we have no basis for how to identify said character, is he black? White? Hispanic? Is his hair blonde? Dyed? Black or brown? Does he have facial hair? Is he tanned or pale? Is he ashy? Scarred? What does an abnormal face constitute? Is he fit like a swimmer? Sprinter? Body builder? Is the Cleft lip rectified? Healed? or Is it still remain from his childhood as an open defect?

lg is a unit used in data measurement. As such it makes no sense to use it in the capacity of mass or weight, lbs is the proper unit abbreviation for pounds.

Your characters SPECIAL is not at all well rounded, and appears to have no real impact in his life, for reference, an Intelligence of less than 3 is indicative of severe mental disability, and a charisma of 1 indicates being unable to properly speak as a result of either: not learning a language, having a stunted language center in the brain, or being mute. Having a luck of 1 means that the chances of you tripping, bashing your head over a rock, and drowning in a puddle are extraordinarily high.

How is able to use most if not all weapons? Was he trained? Is he just a natural? Does he have any other conceivable strengths than just using weapons?

His bio is incredibly lacking in detail and simple substance, simple bullet points to justify his skills, weaknesses and life is not sufficient. Detail the unique aspects of his young life, and the relationship he had with his father to pursue him from a safe home. Why he chose to settle in Megaton, and his reaction to seeing a young vault dweller in the wasteland. Explain why he was chosen as sheriff over other, well known individuals in the town, and his reaction to the somewhat brutal actions of the young Vault Dweller.

Explain how he found out his father had been killed by an Old World government remnant force, explain why he decided to part from his homeland for search of greener pastures. What changed to make him leave?

Explain the trials and tribulations of the caravan journey from Washington DC to Macon, Georgia. Why did he think Georgia as a better place to live than the Capital Wasteland? What rumor did he hear and why is it so interesting to this man?

An RP example is the benchmark for what accepts you into this RP, as you are new to Myself, as well as Tayner and Beiarusia. We have no gauge as to what your writing is like, and a simple joke about a 404 error is not acceptable. We need to be able to see if you are capable of writing, wether it be a scene based on this character's life or a snippet from some other work of fiction, or even a link to a post of yours from a previous RP, we require one to accept you.

[Vacif]

Name: Samson
Age: 42
Gender: Male
Race: Caucasian
Appearance: Stocky, and built strong, Samson's skin is course and dry. His hair is long, black, and tied up in a messy man-bun, and maintains a 9'0 clock shadow. He has dark green, serious eyes, a large, somewhat crooked nose, and thin lips. His jawline is well developed, with a modestly strong chin. He is missing the first two digits of his left ring finger, and on the back of his left hand is the old brand of his raider group.
Height: 5'9
Weight: 175 lbs

SPECIAL: (40 points assigned to all statistics. Minimum of 1 and maximum of 10 per statistic)
Strength: 7
Perception: 4
Endurance: 7
Charisma: 6
Intelligence: 5
Agility: 7
Luck: 4

Strengths:

• Survival - Living off the land, knowing how to flay a brahmin, and knowing how to prepare food is an often overlooked skill.
• Gunman - Not exactly a crackshot, but raiders don't usually get to retire without having some kind of skill.
• Sneak - You don't have to always fight your way out-or in.
• Melee - He's got some mean knife skills.
• Unarmed - Hand-to-hand skills to.

Weaknesses:

• Greedy - If there's a chance to get more loot, he'll probably take it.
• Near-sighted - He can't see things faraway without his glasses.

Trait: (To be assigned by OP)
Equipment:

• Trail Carbine w/ scope & Steel forged receiver
• x56 .44 SWC
• 9mm Pistol w/ Suppressor
• x42 9mm JHP
• Combat Knife
• Lightweight metal armour
• Hip flask
• x2 Healing powder
• x2 Sterile bandages
• x82 caps

Personality: Actually quite amicable, Samson found out early on when people like you, they tend to try not and kill you. He's not a psychopath out for blood, he's not some crazed twinker, or an asshole going out of his way to fuck with you. He's just a dude trying to survive. Doesn't mean he won't shoot you if he has to though. A bit rough with the manners, but he's fair and can keep a group and business together.
Likes: Caps, a clean kitchen, a well prepared meal, rain, material possessions
Dislikes: Atlanta, swamp fuckers, drugs, dogs

Bio: Samson was born into a raider gang. Not a life he would have chosen but it was the hand he was dealt. They thrived in the heart of bombed out Atlanta as their group battled for supremacy over their part of the city. Based out of an IKEA near Home Park, they did well for themselves, sustaining themselves with their own small farm operation, and raiding for materials they couldn't get from themselves. Staying inside of Atlanta proper, it was never a dull moment. Samson learned how to fight real fast as a part of the war band. While his parents weren't the most responsible parents, they at least cared for him. They taught him responsibility, self preservation, and independence.

His parents didn't try and hide the reality of their world to Samson. He was armed at 10, first kill at 12, and a man by 14. Their line of work took a toll on the mind, majority of the compound found escape with drugs or alcohol abuse, with a stark few remaining sober for the horrors of their life, facing it head on. Jeremiah, one of the oldest raiders in the field, also doubled as their lead chef. The man was hitting sixty, and objectively made good food. He was also completely clean, not a drop of alcohol in over thirty years. Samson didn't want to become like the others, like his parents or the other raiders just trying to get by. Samson quickly fastened himself to the old dog's side to follow his example. He followed his orders, his teachings, and his life style.

Years passed, and Samson quickly found himself replacing Jeremiah as the older man was slowly being claimed by old age. The old man, stubborn as ever continued to fight for his life until he physically could not move on his own, simply not strong enough to carry himself. Realizing it was the end, it would be Samson who would administer his 9mm retirement plan. Leadership switched hands rapidly in the coming years, bad raid after raid, and a few fatal decisions later and Samson would find himself on the run. About the only one not high off his ass or passed out in a rut, he gathered his belongings and then some and legged it out of town at night.

For the next few years Samson would backpack around the state of Georgia raiding and taking odd jobs to sustain himself before getting enough caps together to actually settle down. After trading supplies and stories with the mercenaries at Creekville he was inspired to start his own eatery specializing in Mirelurk based foods. Having spent the past few years living out all over Georgia he knew just where to find a steady supply of Mirelurk meat. After working out some logistics, and land ownership, Samson started his first restaurant in Creekside, and it was a massive hit. Morale in the town increased as they finally had a decent place to eat, offering a wide variety of foods as Samson would often venture into the wilderness for fresh and different ingredients for his food.

'The Nomad', the name of the eatery was dedicated to the often travelling nature of those who passed by and the owner himself. It was staffed by a cook, a server, a Protectron, and of course Samson himself. As much as he loved sitting down, enjoying the thing that he'd created, the call of the outside always drew him back eventually. He'd go far and wide, settlement to settlement advertising his eatery with a small, mobile cart.

RP Example:

DO NOT REMOVE: 4242564

[Independent States of Tula]

Name: Anthony (Tony) Fresolo
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Race: Caucasian
Appearance: Visual Appearance
Height: 6 Feet, 2 Inches
Weight: 176 Ibs

SPECIAL:
Strength: 3
Perception: 7
Endurance: 3
Charisma: 8
Intelligence: 5
Agility: 8
Luck: 6

Strengths: Smooth-Talking Charmer (Speech), Trained Gunman (Guns), and Silent Assassin (Sneak)
Weaknesses: Can’t Fist Fight a Paper Bag...or Stab it Very Well (Poor Melee and Unarmed Skill), Trained to Dish Out Punishment But Not Take It (Poor Endurance Against Wounds), An Assassin and Not a Soldier (Poor Endurance In Prolonged Combat/Physical Situations)
Trait:

Our Thing:
A long life of keeping secrets and killing in the name of others has made you quite adept at seeing through lies and observing patterns, yet so far from home, you are most definitely seen as an outsider. Gain a +2 to PER when in conversation with someone, or when surveying individuals or locations. However people are more hesitant to trust you, and as such for initial contact with NPCs, you suffer -1 CHR.

Equipment:
1x Pre-War Golden Wedding Band
3x Sets of Pre-War Suits (Black, Grey, and Black/Blue Checkered Suits w/ Red, Grey/Pink Striped, and Black Ties)
1x Suit-Flask w/ Whiskey
1x Post-WW2 Reproduction 9x19mm Welrod
1x 9x19mm MP5SD w/ Retractable Stock
66x 9x19mm Parabellum Rounds, 2x 30rd MP5SD Magazines and 2x 6rd Welrod Magazines
5x Stimpack
200x Caps

Personality: Well mannered, polite, and philosophical. Anthony has been trained to be what he must in order to get close to his targets and so can change his personality to fit the situation, however the above is his “normal” personality when in between contracts.
Likes: Good Natured Conversation, Pre-War Books, Pre-War Suits, Female Companionship, Liquor, and Caps (Assassins don’t do their work for free)
Dislikes: “Less Refined Brutes” (Common Raiders, Bandits, Mercenaries, etc. who Anthony sees as lacking a proper code of conduct unlike his original “Family”), The Wasteland (Anthony much prefers what passes for cities in the new America as compared to its more rural or uninhabited areas), Chem Pushers (Anthony’s “Family” has a strict moratorium on chem dealing, seeing it as a disgraceful practice compared to their more “civilized” businesses), Champagne (Don’t Ask), The Uneducated (another reason he prefers cities is their higher concentration of intelligentsia)

Bio:

Anthony Fresolo's mother was the house-slave of his father, Frank Fresolo, a Capo in an organization known to the outside world only as "The Family". While normally in the wasteland any child of such a coupling would be born a slave, Anthony had hit the lottery being born a male, for The Family had a rather unique structure of rules. The rule that saved Anthony from a life of slavery, and earned him a ticket for upward mobility in life, was the rule of "Blood Right". It is stated that any individual who can claim blood heritage via their father's side to the original members of The Family can and must have an opportunity to prove themselves worthy of becoming a "Made Man" within the organization. With this stroke of luck however came a price, the price of Anthony's future, from birth onwards his future was set in stone by those around him.

For his childhood years, Anthony would spend much of them on a Brahmin ranch owned by his "Uncle" Dick Scarpa, just outside of what was left of the city of New York. It was there that Anthony would learn how to use a firearm, how to hunt predatory creatures with light footsteps, pre-war history, and how to read and write from Uncle Dick's kindly wife. But most importantly, Anthony would learn how to slaughter a living creature without remorse, no matter if it was a young calf or a brahmin he'd tended to for years. Anthony was not the only child growing up on the ranch, there were many more, all of them his "cousins" of a dozen other "uncles". Years later Anthony would understand the true purpose of the Ranch, it was a training ground for future soldiers of The Family, teaching them the skills they'd need to do what had to be done for their Family.

When Anthony was sixteen he was taken off the ranch by his father and brought into the city. New York may have been beaten bloody by the Great War, but it hadn't been finished off, not yet at least. When Anthony first entered the city at his father's side it was a bit of a culture shock, compared to the ranch he'd spent the last dozen years on the city was absolutely rumbling with activity. Shops and markets lined the streets, selling weapons, clothes, food, trinkets, slaves, and more. But what struck Anthony most of all was watching the people of the city greet his father, every last person went out of their way to show him respect, from the merchants offering him to take a free pick of any of their stock to the common people making sure to make a path for him through the crowds of people.

For Anthony it was like watching a member of the old pre-war nobility he'd read about in some of his textbooks walking amongst peasants, and in a way, he wasn't wrong. Being an officer within The Family was like being a Prince in New York, from what was left of Manhattan to Brooklyn and Staten Island The Family's presence was dominant. And considering that New York once more took on the role of a merchant hub thanks to the return of waterways as the main form of safe merchant trade routes, from the Hudson to the Mohawk and all the way to Lake Ontario, the amount of caps The Family was raking in from all their various "businesses" practically made them just as rich if not richer in the new world than the old nobility in the pre-war one. It was this show of power, this piece of bait, which had lured in countless young men who’d followed their fathers before. It was this same piece of bait that would lure Anthony into the secret world of The Family too.

When both Father and Son had finally reached their destination, the former NYC City Hall in South Manhattan, Anthony was given a choice. Either he could choose to work for The Family as an “associate” to prove himself or he could swear an oath of silence and leave the city in exile, with threat of death if he ever returned. For Anthony, it was a simple choice. For the next three years Anthony would continue his existence as an “associate”, a kinder word for thug in all honesty, performing the tasks required of the lowest rung of Family society. Unlike with the other ranks of The Family’s hierarchy, associates could be of any background as long as they were chosen to serve in the retinue of one of the “Made Men”, those members who could trace their blood back to the founders of The Family and therefore privy to all the secrets, rights, and privileges of being a true member of The Family.

After serving those three years in the service of a “Soldier” by the name of James Falcone (a Made Man serving under Anthony’s father), whether it be by collecting protection money, removing troublemakers, or even going into the sewers with a kill team to hunt down feral ghouls, Anthony was finally invited into The Family by James himself. After performing a blood ritual, and swearing an oath of silence, Anthony was finally Made into a Soldier of The Family under the command of his father, a Caporegime. However, unlike most soldiers, Anthony would not be given command of several associates and a “business” to run. Instead, his father had decided he was destined for bigger and better things, such as serving as his right hand and more importantly as his cloaked dagger. The Family was not free of enemies, both external and internal, as factions within vied for power and factions without sought to make a “change in leadership”.

For the next nine years, Anthony would train at his new trade, and serve at his father’s side within the shadows. Eliminating various individuals who were either dangerous foes or simply too good at competition for his father’s sake. During these years Anthony got to actually develop a relationship with his father, someone who had up until he was sixteen been barely a part of his life, and he’d even met his mother who had been freed as appreciation by Frank for his son she birthed. When Anthony was 25, and his contracts were coming in so frequently they made it near impossible to keep his house he’d gotten years earlier properly maintained, he bought a companion who could help him with the chores.

She was younger than him by a few years, clearly asiatic in heritage, and as beautiful as she was rebellious. Her name was Kei, and she had not been born a slave, it was for that reason she had a fire in her eyes that had distinguished her so throughly from her more docile compatriots on the market. It was that fire, and that clear intelligence behind them, that had drawn Anthony to buy her. In the end, Kei had only worsened Anthony’s immediate situation as she rebelled against the notion of being a mere house servant, and this required more of Anthony’s limited time in order to deal both with the house and her attitude. This was the case until one night, Anthony had fucked up that night, and though the target was dead he had given Anthony a parting gift in his abdomen.

When he stumbled into the house in the middle of the night, stumbling about and knocking over things as he tried to steady himself as more of his precious life blood leaked out of him, in the end though he’d lost too much and knocked himself out by falling to the floor. He must’ve made enough noise to wake Kei, because when Anthony awoke again, he found himself in his bed with the sun shining through his window’s shades and a nervous Kei sitting in the corner of his room staring at him. When he tried to sit up he found he was attached to a blood bag that had been taped above him on one of the bed posts, when he finally found his voice he asked Kei if this had been her doing...it had been. For the first time since he’d purchased her the two had a conversation that didn’t involve yelling, and it was quite a telling one too.

Kei had not been born into slavery, in fact she had been born to her town’s doctor and had been training under him when her town was raided. Before the townies could mount a proper defense and push the raiders out Kei had been unlucky enough to be captured by them and taken away. The raiders didn’t need her and so they’d sold her to slavers for drugs, and those slavers had then sold her to Anthony for caps, by the time he’d become her new owner she’d been a slave less than two months. After that conversation, and more importantly Kei's saving of his life, Anthony released her from servitude and offered to speak with his father about securing her a job as a local doctor's aide. If there was one thing The Family always needed, it was a large amount of doctors who could be trusted to keep their mouths shut.

Surprisingly, Kei accepted the offer and as the years went by she eventually became a doctor herself, besides that however she and Anthony also entered into a relationship. With The Family's permission Anthony would marry Kei and the two would soon have a daughter. With two Families, a house, a steady job of whacking people the Family and/or his father didn't like, and a bright future ahead of him it would have seemed that Anthony's life was finally easy sailing from here on out. But, a year before the present, someone did something that had never happened before in The Family's history...someone talked. The first rule of The Family, the most important and sacred rule of all, was the Omertà.

Allegedly this rule was from the organization that came before The Family, before the Great War, and though it wasn't for the exact same purpose as before its meaning was the same. Ever since the creation of The Family there had not been a single Made Man who'd broken this rule, at least, not until now...and the consequences of this break with the rules was made readily apparent when half a dozen capos found themselves dead in the ruined streets of New York and another dozen Wiseguys got caught in a firefight inside one of The Family's own safehouses. Anthony's own father, Frank Fresolo was nearly killed in what would be called "The Day of Bloodletting" by his Family. Of course, the damage wasn't just the massive loss of life that day, but also the loss of tens of hidden caches of weapons, loot, and caps, the infiltration of businesses across the city, bombings of various safe houses, and even more. An all out war for control spawned from this chaos as various groups from outside from raiders to slavers had banded together in an alliance against the Family.

Their power grab failed after two months of hard fighting and countless dead on both sides, Anthony having spent much of it sneaking into enemy strongholds either through stealth or a silver tongue and killing the heads of this alliance one by one. With the war won, it became time to finally ask questions, with the most important one being "Who Talked?". It didn't take long to realize that one of the men they thought dead on the Day of Bloodletting, didn't stay that way, James Falcone. Anthony's very own mentor, the man who had invited him into The Family, and a recent Capo...it was he who broke their code of silence and betrayed their family to an alliance of outsiders. It was quickly decided that justice had to be served, and so the rule of Blood for Blood was called forth by the Commission, the ruling body of The Family.

However, what came next, was a surprise for Anthony and those around him. Eric Galvatore, an old man with decades of experience under his belt, was the Commissioner of The Family...and it was he who called forth Anthony to stand before the Commission. Due to his years of service as an assassin under his father, due to his record of success, and most importantly due to him being the only Made Man invited into The Family by James who still breathed. It was Anthony who was chosen to hunt down the rat and deliver him to Hell. Such an order could not be ignored, such a responsibility had to be undertaken, Anthony knew well enough that this was his duty to The Family that had raised him up from nothing.

And so, saying goodbye to his once-more pregnant wife, his two year old daughter, and both his Mother and Father, Anthony set out from New York with the most important contract of his life. For the last year he has been following James Falcone's tracks ever further south, and as he enters what was once the state of Georgia before the US split into Commonwealths, Anthony knows that hopefully soon this chase will come to an end as the tracks grow ever hotter.

RP Example: Our Previous RPs together should be sufficient I'd hope?

DO NOT REMOVE: 2077

[Anowa]

Name: Julia Greene
Age: 235
Gender: Female
Race: Ghoul
Appearance:

Height: 5'7
Weight: 154 lbs

SPECIAL:
Strength: 6
Perception: 4
Endurance: 9
Charisma: 3
Intelligence: 7
Agility: 5
Luck: 7

Strengths: USN Corpsman (Medicine), Combat Veteran (Guns), Generations of surviving (Survival)
Weaknesses: Permanent tinnitus, aching joints, outcast from multiple societies
Trait: Corpsman Up!: When in combat, you gain an improved ability to heal and administer first aid due to overwhelming experience doing such (+2 intelligence in combat)
Equipment: M1911A1 'Old Patriot' ★ (2 Mags, 16 JHPHL Rounds) FN FAL (2 Mags, 40 FMJ Rounds), Worn USMC Combat Armor, Medal Rack, Canteen, Road Flares x3, 13 Cigarettes, 4x Stimpacks, Doctor's Bag.

Personality: Motherly and easily disappointed. In her late age, Julia has little patience for mistakes, but an infinite amount of patience for the people who make such mistakes. Like a mother who wishes the best for her child, but is still a firm and punishing parent. A lifetime of hell has left a foul taste in Julia's mouth for making friends, seeing them as but a blink in her already unnatural life, a hard exterior leading to a warm but equally hard interior, is a tough casing to crack.

Bio: Julia can tell you what it was like when Gasoline was actually used, when the New Plague was a fear, and when Nuka-World opened. Born in Atlanta, Georgia, her early childhood was spent as a normal child in America, occupied by baseball, school, and weekends out camping. The typical nuclear family of a father, wife, and two kids. She would remember those days dearly, a shining light in days to come.

In 2064 she would enlist in the US Navy as a corpsman, two years later, the United States would declare war on the people's Republic of China. In 2066, she would be among the first waves on the beaches of mainland China, taking part of the Yangtze Campaign almost immediately after. The horrors of war, from both sides would affect the once cheery woman, her world view shattered as the previously pristine American beacon of justice and equality was revealed full force as a sham. Years of propaganda was for naught, as war crime after war crime was ordered, with no apparent care for repercussions.

During the Battle of Shanghai, Julia was exposed to a chemical agent, and suffered severe chemical burns to most of her exposed flesh. Though wounded, she survived, being shipped to a forward post, before being flown back stateside for recovery. By October, a number of skin grafts and now ordinary recovery procedures had resulted in a clean bill of health for Julia. A rack of medals to her name, and a slated return to China gave the woman mixed feelings. On October 27th, 2077, at 9:41 AM, Julia, as well as her new company, were sitting on the tarmac of MCAS Camp Pendleton, in a plane prepping for takeoff overseas.

Fate, as it would have it, would not let Julia arrive in China.

The bombs detonated as the plane was climbing, and would result in a hard landing off the shore of San Clemente. Where the woman would have to endure harsh tides, sandblasting winds, and the general havoc as the civilian populace tried to get themselves to safety. Of the 80 Marines on the plane, only herself and 7 others made it. Though with their proximity to multiple nuclear detonations, things went south, quickly.

As a Corpsman, it was Julia's job to ensure those under her charge remained in good health, it was a job she made an attempt at, but when the black rain started to fall, and her own skin started peeling off, she gave up. She did what she could to the Marines who she watched over, a bullet to the head to spare them the slow and painful death of acute radiation poisoning... But she didn't have the will to turn it on herself. Over the next three days, her skin would peel and crack, hair would become patchy and dead, eyes would become red and bloodshot. After a short time, she started feeling less hurt by the exposure, and more rejuvenated. On October 34th, 2077, Hospitalman 3rd Class Julia Greene would become a ghoul, forever condemned to walk the wastelands of a world her nation created, and witnessing the hardships and pain resultant of a war she took part in.

She would spend the next decades wandering the wastes, helping wherever she could, the same drive that allowed her to survive mustard gas exposure, an atomic bomb, a plane crash, ghoulification, and years of wear and tear to help the people of the wasteland rebuild. On nothing more than a hope and a prayer that someone, somewhere in the wasteland will have a childhood like hers. Only then can she willingly allow herself to sit down and die, with her passing the torch of the Last Generation, to the next. Her next stop, is her home, the land she grew up in, where her family lived, and where time has passed oh so very quickly for the woman.

RP Example: wat

DO NOT REMOVE: 2077

[Sarderistan]

Name: Ezekiel Hochberg
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Race: Caucasian
Appearance:

Height: approx. 5' 9"
Weight: 69 Kgs.

SPECIAL:
Strength: 6
Perception: 6
Endurance: 5
Charisma: 6
Intelligence: 7
Agility: 5
Luck: 5

Strengths: Ezekiel was able to use any equipments from the old world at ease, and is much familiar with weapons such as rifles and pistols. Other than that, there is nothing more of note.
Weaknesses: Due to often working with radiated elements, instead of gaining evolutionary traits, he suffered from an illness that is consistently breaking down the body (like cancer, but on a much smaller scale). He was sometimes a greedy and quick to anger person, and such thougths often clouded clear thinking.
Trait:
Equipment:
- 2× .45 Pistol (4× .45 ACP magazines, 15 rounds)
- Flare Gun (2× Flare)
- M4 Assault Rifle (3× 5.56mm ext. magazines, 40 rounds)
- Worn US Army Combat Vest
- Small medical bag
- 2× Combat Knife

Personality: Ezekiel was a general traveller, and such, trade and money was his business. He would be friendly to anyone, except a raider or such peoples, if they got enough bottlecaps. He's very experienced in all manners and kinds of people due to his travels across the country, as such, he was a particularly patient man. Overall, he tends to be a welcoming and pleasant man in general, except for those who would threaten the flow of money.
Likes: Assault Rifles, bottlecaps (money), old world items
Dislikes: Raiders, nuclear-related things

Bio: Ezekiel originated from a small town in Maryland, the Capital Wasteland. He moved from the town when he was a child, so he did not remember the town's name, nor his parents. He was taken by a band of merchants operating near Baltimore who had set up a large trade entrepot, connecting the Capital Wasteland and the regions up north. He quickly learned the arts of trade, often following merchant caravans in trade expeditions, scavenging vaults and collecting old world items wherever they can be found. His time working with the old world items and weaponry made him quite the expert, although some that particularly emit radiation did left its mark on his biology.

As the Capital Wasteland and its surroundings was quickly rising to regional importance, so did the major factions gaze their sights into it. The town traded with the Brotherhood of Steel at first, and the Enclave agents later. Unfortunately, with tensions increasing between both factions, trade can't be sustained any longer. They supplied weapons and food to the Brotherhood, which made them an enemy of the Enclave. He found that Enclave raids are very frequent, and so he joined a group of raiders, friendly to the Brotherhood, in retaliation. Eventually, the Enclave's technological superiority made all attempts attacking its supply routes and outposts futile. Combined with the raider's disgusting and appalling behavior that disillusionned him, he decided to leave Maryland and took the long road down south, travelling with another merchant caravan across the ancient road once called Interstates. He'd seen the various peoples and groups that inhabited the Carolinas and Georgia over the way, estabilishing a trade caravan over the Southeast Commonwealth. He lived three years as a humble merchant, making his living out of selling items south and north from the ruins of Atlanta to the bustling trade enclave in Charlotte. Added with vast knowledge of old world technologies, Hochberg proved a successful broker in the way, until a raider attack in numbers struck the trade lanes down.

Hochberg and his simple band of merchants fended off raiders one by one, him being an expert shooter contributes much to the effort. Alas, the raiders were far more numerous, and they had to abandon many carts, and subsequently pieces of old world items with them, although no-one would be so dumb as to left the bottlecaps. He lost everything he'd bulid since leaving Virginia when the raiders came. Most of the caravan were struck down, leaving only three large carts behind, but he deduced it was more than enough to restart his career over. This time in form of a trade outpost rather than a moving band of travellers. Hochberg settled in Athens, as the place was one of the very much intact regions following the war. He found a community of settlers there, coming from other parts of Georgia, and several bands of former raiders as well; some of them already knew him. There was little time needed for him to get settled, as such, he founded a merchant outpost very soon and started the business over again with help of the little community there.

RP Example: Dynasties

DO NOT REMOVE: 2077

[Beiarusia]

Name: Nathaniel
Age: N/A
Gender: Male Programming
Race: Robot, Mister Handy
Appearance:

Nathaniel is based upon the standard Mister Handy frame by General Atomics International. Chassis is chrome; one eye-stalk and two arms and some paneling have been replaced and are instead military green. Efforts have been made to clean the chassis but the paint differences have been left intact.

Height: 4'7" (140 cm)
Weight: N/A

S.P.E.C.I.A.L.
STR: 5 | PER: 6 | END: 7 | CHA: 6 | INT: 6 | AGI: 6 | LCK: 4

Strengths:

Babysitting 101
Nathanial was programmed to supervise the wellbeing of Ennis, thus is capable of overseeing a variety of mundane tasks from cooking to cleaning.

Watch Dog
Scavenging parts from a decommissioned Misty Gutsy has unfortunately led to some programming errors. Although quite pleasant the majority of the time, Nathaniel is very likely to react aggressively to perceived threats and retains knowledge of his military "training." Weaker than a functioning Mister Gutsy but is effective nonetheless in protecting Ennis. Also excels at "tough love" when parenting the girl.

Weaknesses:

Emotional
For a robot, Nathanial is very emotional and can easily be manipulated by playing into this quirk.

Master of None
Despite his handiness Nathanial is by no means a professional in any given task. Is adequate in many things but not masterful.

Trait: (To be assigned by OP)

Personality:
Likes: Cleaning, Ennis, Humming, Organization
Dislikes: Disorganization, Filth, Vermin

Equipment:

- Fire Extinguisher
- Manipulator Pincer
- Sawblade

Bio:

The core that would later become Nathaniel was scavenged by Marcus van der Meer sometime in 2273. It would sit gathering dust in the man's garage for some time, one of many ongoing projects. The dilapidated Mister Handy wouldn't be restored fully until after the adoption of Ennis. A learning process for the inquisitive girl who unknowingly participated in her grandfather's eventual substitute. Scavenging the necessary parts would take some time, many trips to the wasteland beyond the safety of Greensboro, and even longer to mend them back into working order, to make no mention of refactoring the software. Slowly but surely Nathaniel took form, his frame augmented with components scavenged from many junked robots, including bits from a Mister Gutsy, a jigsaw puzzle that only Marcus could comprehend. Nathaniel was finished a few months before Marcus's death.

Functioning more-or-less perfectly, Nathaniel has thoroughly enjoyed his role as the caretaker of Ennis. The girl, too, considers Nathaniel as something special, the last gift her grandfather bestowed upon her, and has shown extra devotion in restoring the Mister Handy to like-new condition. To Ennis, Nathaniel is family.

DO NOT REMOVE: 2077

[The Hoosier Alliance]

Name: Markus Redding
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Race: Caucasian
Appearance: A 1/4th done pin up girl tattoo is on his right shoulder.

Height: 5'8
Weight: 160 lbs

SPECIAL:
Strength: 8
Perception: 6
Endurance: 7
Charisma: 4
Intelligence: 4
Agility:5
Luck: 6

Strengths:
Civilian Weapons Expert:
Markus has spent his whole life using guns, and knows how to use them. He knows many guns inside and out, including, but not limited to, 10mm pistols, double barrel shotguns, and hunting rifles.

Heavy Hitter:
Years of hard living have given Markus the chance to hone his body. He is strong and his melee attacks do more damage and any other task involving strength is easier.

Tank:
The Wasteland is unforgiving, and growing up there helps you build resistance to just about everything. It'll take a lot more than normal to bring him down.

Sticky Fingers:
Thieving comes naturally to this one. Pickpocketing, lockpicking, slight of hand...of this kind of stuff is a breeze for him.

Weaknesses:
Like A Fish:
Markus is a terrible alcoholic.

Open Mouth, Insert Foot:
Markus isn't very gifted in the art of conversation...in fact, he's down right terrible at it.

This is my Rifle, This is my Gun...:
Military/more advanced weaponry eludes him, making him much less effective when using it.

Momma's Boy:
Mother related issues are a sore spot for him...serious insults and/or taunts about his mother induces a terrible, uncontrollable rage in Markus.


Trait: Wrong Side of the Trail:
You have a history, people may not know who you are, but there's an aura around folk like you, an unsmellable stank, or an imperceptible uniform of what you were. When dealing with those classed as Raiders, Slavers, or Con Artists, you gain a +1 CHR to all interaction tests. While the opposite is true (-1 CHR) of those classed as Townsfolk, Lawbringers, or Honest Merchants.


Equipment:
10mm pistol
45 10mm bullets
Double barrel shotgun
11 shotgun shells
Hunting rifle
19 .308 bullets
Hunting knife
2 bottles of whiskey
1 bottle of scotch
2 bandages
1 first aid kit
1 canteen of water
32 caps
Personality: Markus is a blunt, greedy, and self centered kind of man, looking out for himself and his profit before anything else.
Likes: Target practice, fishing, money
Dislikes: Smug educated folk, goody two shoes

Bio: Markus had a rough childhood growing up. His father, John Redding, was an alcoholic and chem addict who beat his son while under the influence, which was constant. His father could never hold down a proper job for long, and many times had to resort to petty crimes to get by. "Get by" is defined here as "getting drunk and high while your young son is forced to scavenge and thieve in town for food scraps so he doesn't starve". From a young age, Markus learned to steal in order to survive. At first it was for basic survival, but as time went on, he saw less of a problem with stealing and began to do so to earn money. When he was twelve, Markus had saved up enough to buy a 10mm pistol. With it, he was able to help his father with his illicit activities, such as chem deals and robbery. Around the same time, John stopped beating him, mostly due to the blade that he woke up to have pressed against his throat, followed by a promise Markus made to dear ol' dad. Starting then, Markus became the main bread winner and provided his father with enough money for alcohol, chems, and...women of the night. Markus did the same for himself, taking up many of the bad habits of his father when he got older. He wasn't addicted to chems, but shot up every now and then for the rush. Alcohol was his weakness, however, and was a constant thorn in his side.

By the time he was 17, Markus had been thieving and robbing for years, by himself. Eventually, he made friends with some raiders at a small raider bar. Every now and then, Markus would hook up with them and join in on a robbery or whatever they had planned. He became pretty good friends with some of them, even hooking up with a girl, Kara, a few times. She even convienced him to get a tattoo once, while they were drunk out of their minds. So, a wandering "tattoo artist" offered to give him one, but left about a quarter of the way through when Markus and Kara passed out, taking his caps and leaving the permenant reminder on Markus's right shoulder. However, the good times wouldn't last, because soon the rate at which his friends died was faster than the rate at which he made new friends, so eventually he stopped hanging out with them when it was just Kara and two others that were still alive that he knew. In his years of raiding and stealing, he never outright murdered anyone, but he had killed several people in self defense (and "preemptive self defense", as he would call it) in his life. When he was 19, Markus's life changed. His father and he were arguing after they had shot up and drank together. Markus couldn't remember what they were fighting about, but he doesn't remember some of what happened. His father decided to attack Markus's weak spot; his mother. Markus never knew his mother, but John had made sure to tell him all about her a child. Mostly, of her profession. Markus's mother, whose name his father never told him, was supposed to be a "cheap whore" from "somewhere in this God-forsaken Wasteland". He never explained why he took in Markus, why he gave him his last name, why he stayed with his mother while she was pregnant, or anything about her. He did, however, make sure Markus remembered what she was whenever they fought. This brought Markus into a rage, and he kicked his father out of the rented room before he beat his father to death. He continued to drink and shoot up that night, before passing out and waking up around midday. He became worried when he noticed his father was still not home. He never would explain why he cared about his father or why he stuck around with him, considering the fact that Markus had to take care of and enable him. Perhaps it was because he was his father, his only family, or some other sentimental crap. Regardless, he went looking for him in the town he didn't remember entering. After about an hour, he found his father dead. He was in some back alley. John Redding had died...when he passed out drunk and landed face first in a puddle, where he drown in a few inches of rain water. Markus buried his father near the town, which he later learned was Greensboro, and continued his life much in the same way, the only exception being the occasional visit to his father's grave.

RP Example:

Here's some of my most recent work. I'll provide my posts, rather than just the thread because I joined this RP a while after it started and my posts are buried toward the end. Still, here's the link in case you want it: viewtopic.php?f=31&t=460038&start=200


Indianapolis, Capital of Iron Guard Hoosier

The streets of Indianapolis, the Hoosier capital, were bustling with activity. Citizens walked, biked, and drove about, heading from home to work, or to the many shops and stores in the city. Pollution billowed from the smokestacks that dotted the city's industrial zone. It was growing, homes, businesses, and parks being torn down in order to quiet the nation's bawling for more industry, more production. Soldiers could be seen every now and then, standing watch at this important location and that one too, lazily watching the harmless civilians as they went about their business. The soldiers' presence was barely noticed by the city's occupants. Perhaps they would have been out of place back in 1912, but once the Nine Years War began, soldiers were a common sight. They were a minor inconvenience before the rioting. When anarchy briefly fell upon the city, the 4th Royal Marines were sent in, and bloodily put down the dissenters. Then, they occupied the city until 1918, when the September Revolt was set in motion. Some in the 4th laid down their arms, others turned them on their king. Only a handful put up a fight. Then, the Iron Guard paramilitaries took to patrolling the streets, then the reformed Hoosier Army, loyal to the IGP. Violence, for a time, was a rather common occurrence in Indianapolis, and much of the nation, for several years.

Today, however, things have calmed down enough for the troops to no longer act as if the city was under occupation, and major military presence was ended in 1921. The small Hoosier Army was now focusing on training and watching foreign nations. The Marshal, Brandon Jones, was now focusing on expanding the military, now that the number of arms available is no longer limited so badly by lack of industry. Even as Hoosier industrial capacity has been expanding, year after year, it is still considerably weak. This reason, among others, is why the IGP leaders have been discussing the issue of Iron Guard Hoosier's continued policy of semi-isolationism. Many fear the policy is proving only to weaken the state, rather than help it. Many within party leadership believe that embracing the rest of the world, or at least some of it, is the best path forward.

Marshal Jones was currently meeting with a number of his advisers, mostly fellow officers once loyal to the Kings old Imperial Army. "Sir," began one of his lessers, "I think we've agreed; Our isolation must end. Our industry needs a kickstart, our ports demand more trade, and the other nations continue to move, threatening our interests as we sit ideally by." A number of others nodded, voicing their approval. Jones nodded, "I agree. Our industry is in dire need of outside help, and we have a chance to undermine those bastard Aclusians. Unless anyone objects, we should go forward with our plan we agreed upon yesterday. We'll approach the Indianum Alliance in hopes for economic assistance, and hopefully contact the Boers fighting Aclus. If we can funnel guns and ammunition them, hopefully they can bleed Aclus a little bit more. We'll also commit to an additional forty-thousand men to army, fifteen thousand to the navy, as well as fifteen more destroyers, four more thousand to the air force. If we can get our fighter production to a more suitable level, we'll increase the air force again. Any questions? Good. Dismissed."





Somewhere in the Hoosier countryside...
Nathanial Henderson, son of a now deceased former Lord in the state of Wein, drummed his fingers on the large table he was sitting at. On the table were a number of items, strewn about with no particular order to them. There were drinks, knifes, a pair of glasses, various documents, pencils, pens, and a map. The map, which sat in the center of the table, had a number of red dots, drawn on with a nearby marker. The dots were few, less than a dozen, and were made in various states within Iron Guard Hoosier. The dots represented the warehouses, barns, and other assorted buildings that housed the last remaining loyalist forces in the country. Not that the forces, loyal to the exiled Hoosier Royal family, were active. No, now they just collected whatever guns, ammunition, fuel, and vehicles they could mass and hide from the watchful eyes of the Hoosier military and civilian population. Their numbers were few, and their storehouses nearly empty. The militia they had spent years trying to secretly recruit for was small and untrained, their members living normal lives within Hoosier until the day came to take up arms. If that day even came. Until then, Henderson would do his best to grow his forces.

His father had been a rather minor noble, not having much attention paid to him. That's one of the reasons the Henderson family was mostly left alone. When the IGP came into power, most important nobles either fled or were executed. Same for a few of the minor nobles, but most remained in country, and their wealth was either left alone or confiscated, depending on how those nobles reacted to the IGP take over. The Henderson House bent the knee, but his family never believed in the Iron Guard movement. They joined a small, and at the time growing, loyalist group made of former Lords of Hoosier. Since the formation, however, the numbers of dropped off, either from capture or disbelief in the organization. Henderson has, in the time since 1918, become the leader of the rag-tag band of reactionaries. For a while, they actually had contact with Hamilton in exile, but that quickly ended when the IGP caught wind of the secret messages being sent back and forth. Now, they are in the dark with the happenings of Hamilton. Now, they sit and wait, hoping their chance will come.

Indianapolis, Iron Guard Hoosier
Brett Martin was never much of a political man. He had always been rather apathetic to the world of politics when he was younger. Far away decisions made by men he never knew didn't seem to bother Brett while he worked on the family farm. Even when he was drafted into the Army, Brett didn't much care about politics, rather focusing on getting home from Tamir and not dying to a Manticoran bullet. Hell, when the IGP took over and signed a peace with the enemies of Hoosier, he celebrated their rise. However, as he has gotten older, he has evolved. A lot. Where before he didn't care, he is involved. His family lost their farm after the war when much of it was destroyed by unrestrained IGP paramilitary forces. When they moved to the city, they faced the harsh repression from IGP soldiers. They promised changed, and offered none. They were no better than the monarchy, as far as Brett was concerned. That is why Brett formed his political coalition, the Hoosier Liberty Party. The HLP was a slowly growing and underground movement, demanding increased social equality for many within Hoosier, as well an institution of free and open elections. The actual platform of the HLP isn't very defined, as many within the party hold differing views. Some are more conservative, some more liberal. Some are more on the center, while others are farther to the extreme. Still, they are unified in their hatred of the monarchy AND IGP, and their dreams of a more democratic and equal society. They know, of course, that their demands would never be met unless it was at the end of a gun. Some within the HLP beg for negotiation, while most demand action. Regardless of what course of action Brett decides on, they are a long way off from doing anything meaningful. Their numbers, while growing, are few. Their stockpiles are low and they barely have enough rifles or bullets to train with, let alone stage an uprising. They would have to stick to the shadows for now, until they were properly prepared. That point of readiness seemed like a far way off. Still, Brett knew that the path of a revolutionary was never easy and that the path to freedom was wet with the blood of tyrants and patriots. Change, it seemed, never came without a little planning, and a lot of dying.





In the Hoosier capitol building, Brandon Jones was being informed of the acceptance of support from the Boers. "Great," Jones said, "This will give us a chance to bleed the Aclusians without having to risk our own skins. Are the weapons on their way?" One of his advisers nodded, "Yes sir. The ships appear to be any normal civilian cargo ship. They will be going to well established areas of smuggling. The Boers have been bringing in many of their arms the way we will be sending them, better to keep things simple. Rifles, bullets, food...everything we promised them. The first few shipments will be a little on the light side, make sure nothings been compromised, and we'll start pouring in everything we can. That also brings us to our next problem..." The adviser stepped to the side to allow another man to step up and begin speaking. "Sir, our industrial capacity if limited, as we all know. With the added strain of supporting the Boers with so much, we've had to cut how much goes to our armed forces, mainly the forty thousand men you ordered to add to our army. We had no problem with getting men to volunteer, but arming those men has become a problem. And we both know men can't train with rifles they don't have. We need more guns."

Jones nodded. "I understand our problem, but what can be done?"

"Well, sir, for one we can encourage industrial growth with new subsidies for factories, but those effects, while significate, won't be seen for months. However, there is another way to gain weapons now while we wait for our policies to take their full effect." Jones raised an eyebrow, "And what would that be?"

"The Manticoran Empire, sir. They sell weapons internationally, and we believe they would sell to us. We can buy what we need now, and as our industrial base grows, we produce more for ourselves and buy less in the future. Or at least, that's the hope."

Jones took a deep breath before he replied, "I don't like the idea of relying on a foreign power for our defense, but what choice do we have? That will be our course of action. Make it so. Make the arrangements with the Manticoran companies.”

DO NOT REMOVE: 2077

[The Twelve Isles]

Ill get an app up sometime tonight or tomorrow.

[Tayner]

Quest Added
The Drive

---

Slavers are coming, and the townspeople of Greensboro are meeting to plan a course of action that leads towards escaping enslavement.

Objectives:

• Assemble for the town meeting.
• Plan your next steps.

[Tayner]

IC is up.

[Sarderistan]

Am I accepted?