Fallout: New Frontier (OOC|Fallout|DEAD)

by **Anowa** » Sun Oct 06, 2019 11:05 pm

>>IC<<
>>Theme<<
>>Discord<<
Map
OP: Anowa

New California has been trumped at Hoover Dam. New Vegas, and the Mojave, are now out of the NCR's reach. Nearly three decades of soft occupation stamped out by the actions of a single mailwoman. The leaders of the Mojave campaign have been found either dead, or out of a job. Former president Kimball has retired to run a peanut farm, Chief Ranger Hanlon now serves on the NCR Senate, with a presidential bid in sight, while General Oliver was found dead in his home with 4 separate gunshot wounds, and ruled a suicide. The homefront is bursting at the seams, almost ready to crack under the strain of losing the Mojave after so much effort. But the homefront seems so far away.

Earlier this year, the region surrounding Portland created and signed a petition to bring the region under NCR rule. The standard practice for expansion the NCR typically operates under. Not knowing any better, the NCR accepted the petition and sent what they thought was an appropriate number of forces to police the region. Instead, they stepped upon a veritable anthill of raiders, slavers, miscreants and remnants of the Master's Army. Portland had very quickly become the new Mojave, and General Moore, now the highest ranking officer in the NCR Army, does not wish for such a petition to snowball into 30 years of pointless occupation. With the war against the Legion still taking the brunt of the NCR forces. So the reinfoircements headed to ensure the Portland region is secure, are far from the cream of the crop.

It is now October 23, 2283. 206 years to the day that humanity's next bloody chapter was opened. For you a member of the 63rd Battalion of the NCR Army, the front is the fine line between dying for a fracturing country, or deserting. War for you is an internal struggle, as well as an external one. Because War...

War Never Changes.

by **Anowa** » Sun Oct 06, 2019 11:06 pm

PERSONNEL RECORDS

NEW CALIFORNIA REPUBLIC

63^rd Battalion

HEADQUARTER

Godfather 6

Maj. Frederik Hindenberg

Godfather 6 Romeo

Cpl. Annette Starling

^st

HEADQUARTER

Gatekeeper 6

Cpt. Martin McLean

Gatekeeper 5

1Lt. Jennifer Lanner

Gatekeeper 7

MSgt. Harrison Greene

Gatekeeper 5 Charlie

Sgt. Michael Michaels

Gatekeeper 6 Romeo

Cpl. Robert Semple

1^stPLATOON

Gatekeeper Red 6 (HQ)

1Lt. James Hafferton

Gatekeeper Red 5 (HQ)

SSG. Arch Dornan II

Gatekeeper Red 6 Romeo (HQ)

1st Squad

1st Squad

1st Squad

1st Squad

1st Squad

1st Squad

1st Squad

PV2. Jason Meyers

1st Squad

PV2. William Doe

Gatekeeper Red 7 (2 Sq)

Sgt. Carter Bucksly

2nd Squad

Cpl. Bella Noboa

2nd Squad

Spc. Frank Stein

2nd Squad

PV2. James Grey

2nd Squad

PV2. Jonathan Morris

2nd Squad

PV2. Samuel Pope

PORTLAND RAIDER CONFEDERACY

Command Staff

Ace of Spades

The Czar

King of Spades

Orion

Ten of Spades

Pompey of Two-Sun

Nine of Spades

Waltz/The Beast of San Jacinto

Six of Spades

Selina Belochkina

Four of Spades

Maxim Kablukov

Three of Spades

Mao Xian

1^stCombined Arms Brigade

Queen of Spades

Mosaic

Five of Spades

Banner

Two of Spades

1SG. Alexander Carmichael

Queen of Spades

Zoe Leclerc

Seven of Spades

Patriot

THE ABBOT (The Order of Saint John)

Post of the Knights Hospitaller

Ace of Hearts

Rt.Rev. Andromeda

The Grotto

King of Hearts

Rev. Ogma

Beth Israel

Queen of Hearts

Rav. Eli

Almaladh al'amn

Jack of Hearts

H.aI Mohammed

by **Tayner** » Sun Oct 06, 2019 11:22 pm

by **Insaeldor** » Mon Oct 07, 2019 12:19 am

by **Barboneia** » Mon Oct 07, 2019 4:51 am

Looks interesting. Definite tag.

by **Vacif** » Mon Oct 07, 2019 6:42 am

I’m offended you didn’t tag me in chat.

by **Guuj Xaat Kil** » Mon Oct 07, 2019 11:11 pm

Haha woah man
Tag

by **Arengin Union** » Mon Oct 07, 2019 11:40 pm

Name: My name is Abel Ignacio Reinosa Parra sir, same name as my abuelo who was also a trader. My father picked up the profession from him and so did I from my dad.
Age: As far as I am aware sir, I'm about 34 years of age.
Gender: Male, as god intended me to be sir.
Physical Description: Well sir, I don't keep a record but I can tell you without doubt that my height is 6 feet with 2 inches I believe. And my weight I would put it at 180 pounds.
Birthplace: Born and raised at the Hub, I tell you it's not as bad as some would make you believe sir. You can find pretty much anything you need, farming ain't as popular so my abuelo had to change professions when he arrived from Baja. Trading has been part of the family since then and I... Yeah, sorry sir.
SPECIAL

S:5
P:7
E:3
C:8
I:7
A:3
L:7

Skills:
Well I would say I'm good at bartering, that is for sure part of why my abuelo and dad saw much success, I've been up and down but believe me I can find a good bargain if I want it. I'm also quite good at detecting bullshit, you could say I've got a smell for it. Oh no, no piece of brahmin shit is going to sell me "deathclaw" hide that is actually gecko's. Oh another thing is that you can say Im quite a repairman of sorts, I'm sure the army could use a guy that is able to repair just about anything, that is if there's some profit to be had.
Perks:

N/A

Equipment:

Biography:
Well it all starts when I was born, quite cliche heh, but you could say my life in the Hub was pretty normal. If you exclude the constant bickerings and off shoot crime you could put it as normal. The real problems are the big trading companies... Sometimes they just don't leave enough space for competition. But anyways, I didn't really get to go to school a lot, my dad opted to teach me at home which was pretty much also where he worked. My Abuelo worked his back as a Caravan guard to eventually get his own brahmin, there he started trading around the state.

So eventually Abuelo was able to gather enough money to settle a small tent in the Hub's marketplace, "Reinosa's Emporium." My Abuelo was the master salesman I'll tell you, he once sold a broken motorbike for 1000 caps. Yep, truly a damn genius. My dad wasn't that bad either, though he kind of had his mess ups from time to time, like buying a shipment of Chinese Assault rifles that turned out to be made out of cardboard. Abuelo was the one who taught me a lot of bullshit detecting, telling me "Mijo, if your guts tells you a man's lying then listen to it," and I carry that by heart.

So I guess the question remains why I am here today right? Thriving business and all... Well I did get to run the shop for several years, after Abuelo didn't wake up one day my dad and I ran the store and we tried our best to bring food on the table. I got married some 10 years ago to a merchant's daughter, friends of my dad. Gabriela and I had a kid, named him Issac. I carry our photo from a hunting trip all the time with me. Anyways, my dad couldn't run the shop after some thugs beat him up, broke his right leg and hips and he can't stand up anymore. After a short while someone burnt down the shop... I managed to get everyone out in time but nothing was spared.

Soon after that I got handed a bag of 500 caps by some Crimson Caravan suited man, and told to leave The Hub. Right now my family is at San Francisco with Gabriela's sister. Listen I just want my pay to get sent back there to this address, I'll just take 10 percent and I can sort myself out with that but the rest goes to my family. I'll go anywhere as long as I can get payed.
Do Not Remove: 2299

Name: I'm John, John Miller. (Actual name is Rick Ferrier)
Age: I guess I'm about 28... I couldn't tell you for sure.
Gender: .... Male... Why is this even a question?
Physical Description: I don't know... I don't keep track of that. I guess 5'11? Maybe 6 feet? I think I'm about 200 pounds...
Birthplace: Shady Sands... (Actually New Reno, abandoned at an orphanage)
SPECIAL

S:8
P:5
E:9
C:3
I:5
A:7
L:3

Skills: I'm strong and capable, any hard work you need done I'll get it done no problem. Im also shoot with shooting, had a lot of practice from... hunting. I'm good with following orders and getting stuff done. Working for caravans taught me to keep my head down and do as I'm told. (First part is true, second is somewhat true but he omits that he worked for several criminal groups, last part is not true at all, he is a good liar though)
Perks:

N/A

Equipment:

Biography:
Born at Shady Sands, my dad was a good for nothing drunk and my mom's a whore. No point in staying so I just drifted for a while, got around The Hub and worked for the Crimson Caravan for a while. I saw a poster for the Military, I just wanna do my service and get my money okay.

(Rick was left as a baby at the New Reno Center for Children, he was always a trouble child constantly fighting and getting into trouble. The Center tried multiple times to get him adopted and eventually just outright kicked him out into the streets at age 13. Rick wandered the city as a homeless kid until eventually getting involved in the criminal life of the city by stealing from houses and dealing with low tier drugs.

By age 16 Rick was part of a gang named "The Rad Tarantulas" where he began his experience with firearms and melee weapons. Getting into gang fights and the occasional shootings, Rick was eventually apprehended at age 19 when killing a member of the Salvatores family in a brawl. Rick was bailed out of jail by an inconspicuous individual naming himself "Senior Bartolome" of the Mordinos. Rick was offered a job as a soldier for the Mordinos crime family which was at war with the Salvatores at the time, with little options and needing money Rick accepted and dedicated himself for several years to the Mordinos family, achieving the rank of Enforcer and later a Confidant.

After some time of amassing money as well as trust with the Wrighs, the Bishops, Mordinos, and even getting some contact with the Yakuza, Rick decided it was only a matter of time before he like several other Confidants before him was given the ax or another Family War would see him die for a family he didn't care about. Returning from a job destroying several competing businesses in the Hub for the Crimson Caravan, Rick alongside other members of the Mordinos put a plan in action.

Rick and his conspirators sold false info about a Van Graff weapon deal, which caused the Wrighs to attack the Van Graffs and see themselves starting a war they couldn't win. Later Rick would be handed a large sum of money in advance to kill a Temperance Union speaker, which he instead would tell the police in exchange for a large sum of reward money. Finally, Rick had pocketed large amounts of drugs from the Mordinos and sold them under the table to the Bishops, who as a last fuck you he stole another large sum meant to be a kickback for an NCR congressman.

These schemes caused another family crime syndicate war in New Reno, one that Rick and his accomplices would use as a chance to escape with their money. All in all they had amassed at least 100,000 caps and they quickly made their way up North to escape into the Midwest to lay low. Their perfect escape would be short lived as the Yakuza, Van Graffs, and Mordinos had sent dozens of mercs after them and had put a large bounty on their heads in the criminal world. Most of his accomplices are dead or laying low, having stored the money in Arroyo, Rick signed himself into the NCR military in an attempt to evade Yakuza assassins. On the run and with a target on his back, Rick now hopes he can lay low for a while as he is being stationed North. His goal is to keep his head down and escape at the first chance he gets to get the money he worked so hard to amass.)
Do Not Remove: 2299

by **Guuj Xaat Kil** » Tue Oct 08, 2019 6:41 am

by **Tayner** » Tue Oct 08, 2019 8:23 am

Name: Jeff "Servius" O'Connor
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Physical Description: 6’1”, 180lbs, crooked nose from being broken, a burn mark in the shape of an ‘x’ on his chest, missing his right ring finger.
Birthplace: Durango, Colorado
SPECIAL

S: 9
P: 6
E: 10
C: 3
I: 6
A: 5
L: 10

Skills: Shooting, unarmed, fitness
Perks:

Tough Enough

Equipment:
- R700
- Bayonet
- NCR Army Battle Uniform
- C3 Gas Mask
- Mess Tin
- Bedroll
Biography: Born some time before Caesar's Legion conquered parts of Colorado, Jeff was raised into a simple life of subsistence farming. He was taught how to shoot a gun at 12, and as a teenager he faced a few rough winters, however he would survive, helping hunt, defend the farm from trials, and scavenge when they needed. His father eventually grow sick, and after a few months everything would change with the arrival of Caesar's legion. At first it was quiet, the tribals stopped harassing the homestead, almost unnoticed, and shortly after a contubernium arrived at the homestead.

After a short verbal confrontation, the Legionaries demanded food and water, and as subsistence farmers they didn't have much to spare. Thinking of them as nothing more than mere raiders, they fought them. Initially driving them off, a force of 20 Legionaries would return and promptly burn down the farm and enslave his family. His father, sickly and old would be executed, his mother separated, and he would never see his brother and sisters again. As a slave, Jeff was sent back south after being 'broken in' as a slave, which meant often beatings, being renamed, and a 'branding' from a particular vicious legion commander. It was then when he was put into servitude under a legion commander who was soon to march west into a land of profligates to take a prize city as a capital.

After a few months, Jeff, now known as 'Servius' to his master, would end up in The Fort. When the bulk of the troops left to go fight in the first battle of Hoover Dam, Jeff would make an attempt to escape, killing a legionnaire in the attempt. However, he would be caught, and nearly tied to a cross up at Cottonwood Cove as a result, as an example to the captures that were coming in. However, through a stroke of luck a skirmish would break out, NCR troops from Camp Searchlight trying to destroy the legion base. Jeff would kill another Legionnaire, before being stabbed by another. Managing to fight them off, he would manage to escape into the desert before the NCR troopers withdrew. A day later a NCR patrol would find him collapsed in the road just outside of Camp Searchlight.

They would patch him up, and once he could walk he was sent to the doctor over in Novac. Saved from a life of slavery and death by the NCR, he would soon find the means to enlist after he got better. He'd end up being shipped back west for training, and after excelling he would become a candidate for Ranger School. However, he would wash out, and would end up as a soldier in the regular army. Jeff would serve as a rifleman with a line infantry battalion for two tours in the Mojave before being sent north to participate in the conquest over the New Frontier.
Do Not Remove: 2299

by **Vacif** » Tue Oct 08, 2019 8:58 pm

Name: Franklin Lang
Age: 38
Gender: Male
Physical Description: 5’9, 143 lbs, jagged scar along his left forearm (Farming accident)
Birthplace: Bitterwater, California
SPECIAL

S: 3
P: 4
E: 5
C: 5
I: 7
A: 5
L: 4

Skills: Science, Repair, Guns
Perks: (At level 1 you shouldn't have any, simply put N/A here for the moment. Add your trait when given.)

Stress Tested:
You're used to being strung wire thin, put in situations where most people would drop from shock or go mad with anxiety. But as a result, that stress has taken a physical toll on your body. (END tests against mental stresses have advantage, while END tests against physical stresses have disadvantage)

Equipment:

- M16A2 (8.5 lbs)
- Bayonet (0.5 lbs)
- NCR Army Battle Uniform (26 lbs)
- AN/PRC-25 Radio (14 lbs)
- C3 Gas Mask (2 lbs)
- Mess Tin (0.5 lbs)
- Bedroll (2)

53.5/180 lbs
Biography: Born on February 13th, 2245, Franklin was the product of the NCR’s population boom in the early 2240s when the NCR moved off of substance farming to more industrialized sectors. Economic prosperity boomed with good regulation under the policies created by the late President Tandi until their erosion by cattle lobbyists under the Peterson Administration. Franklin grew up with the benefits of the Tandi administration before her policies were phased out. He grew up happy, healthy, and generally carefree, as he worked on his large family farm. He was a natural tinkerer, noted for his interest in radios and how they connected the world and the community. He ran a small radio shack on the side when he wasn’t tending to his crops. Frank was a hard worker, a staunch supporter of the old policies of helping out his fellow person. Growing up, Franklin was an only child, much of the farm's labour was handled by farm hands. Usually, most of the town would come together to decrease the workload when harvesting season came about.

Franklin married his hometown sweetheart, Ursula when he was 22. They lived peacefully together for the better part of 14 years. With her by his side the growing problems of inequality and war seemed far away. The happy couple wanted to try for kids, and they did. However due to Ursula’s genetic health issues, every attempt was met with miscarriage. Realizing that their chances of having a child together were slim-to-none, they stopped and saved themselves the pain. His wife’s health deteriorated, and eventually she passed. The stress of each loss took too much from her each time. To rub salt onto the open wound, Franklin would lose his father to a stroke, and his mother would follow suite due to grief.

Ursula's declining health took a heavy toll on their finances. Franklin began to prioritize what time he had left with his wife over maintaining the farm, leaving it to the farm hands. This combined with a particularly rough growing season, and the fact that Tandi’s social welfare programs had been cut in half lead Franklin to tough financial times. As if several decades of back logged bad luck were being released upon him, land taxes increased, and the local Brahmin barons were keen on acquiring his sizable plot of land.

With the stress of so much happening so fast, Franklin had little fight in him and ceded his land with little fight. He lost weight, and stopped taking care of himself as he wandered from town to town with what was left of his savings. A number of drinks, and a few bad decisions later he found himself in a jail cell with two options. Rot in a cell for however long the courts decided, or take a plea deal and enlist with the army. With not much to lose, and not much to live for he chose the latter, hoping it might give him a reason to keep living.
Do Not Remove: 2299

by **Miraaki** » Tue Oct 08, 2019 10:02 pm

Might as well tag this. Kinda wanna do RP again

by **Arengin Union** » Tue Oct 08, 2019 10:17 pm

Miraaki wrote:Might as well tag this. Kinda wanna do RP again

Beware traveler, tagging is frowned upon by the demons.

by **Anowa** » Wed Oct 09, 2019 2:06 am

Arengin Union wrote:Name: Abel Ignacio Reinosa Parra
SPECIAL
S:5
P:7
E:3
C:8
I:7
A:3
L:7
Do Not Remove: 2299

Trait Added:
Guts:
A lifetime of advice from your parentage as well as your own experiences have left you with a gut instinct a cut above the rest. (he OP will inform you of potential issues with an imminent arrival. Though this is liable to rapidly changing conditions.)

Equipment Added:
Medic
- M16A2
- Bayonet
- Rucksack w/ Medical Supplies
- NCR Army Battle Uniform
- C3 Gas Mask
- Mess Tin
- Bedroll

Accepted.

Arengin Union wrote:Name: John Miller
SPECIAL
S:8
P:5
E:9
C:3
I:5
A:7
L:3
Do Not Remove: 2299

Trait Added:
Double Down:
You have a history of doubling down, on risks, on payouts, and on debts. High risk, high reward is the name of the game for you. (Chances to fail stat checks are halved, the consequences are doubled for a failure.)

Equipment Added:
Rifleman
- M16A2
- Bayonet
- Browning Hi-Power
- NCR Army Battle Uniform
- C3 Gas Mask
- Mess Tin
- Bedroll

Accepted.

Guuj Xaat Kil wrote:Name: Marcus Bayern
SPECIAL
S:7
P:4
E:7
C:5
I:4
A:6
L:5
Do Not Remove: 2299[/spoiler]

Trait Added:
Labourer:
Built like an ox, and capable of nearly as much. You were built to perform demanding physical feats under harsh conditions, but had little time for book learning. (STR checks to move, lift, or break objects gain advantage, but INT checks on specialized subjects have disadvantage)

Equipment Added:
Machine Gunner
- FN MAG
- Bayonet
- NCR Army Battle Uniform
- C3 Gas Mask
- Mess Tin
- Bedroll

Accepted.

Guuj Xaat Kil wrote:Name: Arthur Carter
SPECIAL
S:5
P:9
E:7
C:6
I:6
A:8
L:5
Do Not Remove: 2299[/spoiler]

Trait Added:
Quick Witted:
You learned from a young age to work smarter, not harder. In practice, you can find solutions others wouldn't always think of. (OP will give the player a notable resolution in certain situations possibly not foreseen by others... Not always a good one.)

Equipment Added:
Assistant Machine Gunner
- M16A2
- Bayonet
- NCR Army Battle Uniform
- Rucksack
- C3 Gas Mask
- Mess Tin
- Bedroll

Accepted.

Vacif wrote:Name: Franklin Lang
SPECIAL
S: 3
P: 4
E: 5
C: 5
I: 7
A: 5
L: 4
Do Not Remove: 2299

Trait Added:
Stress Tested:
You're used to being strung wire thin, put in situations where most people would drop from shock or go mad with anxiety. But as a result, that stress has taken a physical toll on your body. (END tests against mental stresses have advantage, while END tests against physical stresses have disadvantage)

Equipment Added:
Radioman
- M16A2
- Bayonet
- NCR Army Battle Uniform
- AN/PRC-25 Radio
- C3 Gas Mask
- Mess Tin
- Bedroll

Accepted.

by **The Twelve Isles** » Thu Oct 10, 2019 11:05 pm

Bruce Springsteen - Thunder Road

Name: My names James Henry Barrow, though most people just call me Jimmy.
Age: Im twenty one years of age sir.
Gender: About as male as the day I was born sir.
Physical Description: Last I checked sir, Im six feet tall and about one seventy five pounds. As for tattoo's, I got this one here on my right hand knuckles that says SSRS, which stands for South Sid Rattlesnakes. And then here on my left hand I got HELL, which just means hell, as well as this here snake tattoo on my forearm. Its all gang related. Oh, and I got this here scar around my eye, though Im sure that one's a bit more obvious.
Birthplace: I was born in The Hub, in the NCR. Born and raised there sir.
SPECIAL

S: 4
P: 6
E: 4
C: 8
I: 8
A: 6
L: 4

Skills: I like to think I'm quick witted, charming, and damn fast on my feet. I'm pretty damn smart too sir, and I got a knack for talking to others too I like to think. I'm pretty good at getting em to trust me and tell me things, or I can usually get people to listen to what I gotta say. I ain't the strongest, but I make up for that by being quick on my feet, and I'm damn good shot sir. I don't say this to sound good its just the truth, I was the top of my class back at boot camp. See, I even got this here expert marksman rating.

Oh! And I can speak some spanish. I'm not the best, but I got enough to get around if need be.

Perks: (At level 1 you shouldn't have any, simply put N/A here for the moment. Add your trait when given.)

N/A

Equipment:

Rifleman
- M16A2
- Bayonet
- NCR Army Battle Uniform
- C3 Gas Mask
- Mess Tin
- Bedroll

Biography: I ain't gonna lie sir, I was born rough, and I grew up rough because of it. My daddy was just some passing trader and my mama was just some drug addled hooker, it wasn't like I had a whole lot of other options. Especially considering my neighborhood was violent and poor, though I fit right in. I dont like to think I was ever mean or cruel, but damn if I didn't like the excitement of a good fight, so I was deep into that lifestyle from the day I could walk. I can remember hanging around my local corner and laughing at all the squares on their way to school, and not too long after that I made some like minded friends. We were all poor, mean and after old Two Time Tim got a switchblade we all knew we wanted one of them too. I was in and out of foster homes, group homes and the police station for most of my young life, and by the time I was fourteen I was well acquainted with the truancy officer and had been jumped into a gang, the South Side Rattlesnakes. We were some mean sumbitches, made out name quick which kept the other gangs from trying to move in our territory. I didn't like the violence so much if I'm being completely honest, it was a lot more unpleasant than getting into scuffled with the other neighborhood kids, but it could have been worse. They kept me safe, and the girls loved them jackets we all wore. Not that I can blame em, we looked red hot as far as I'm concerned. The girls didnt notice me much at first, I was the youngest member so they all just thought I was cute. They were all way more interested in old Tommy, the guy who had started our gang, though we all just called him Three Fingers on account of him missing three fingers.

Once I got to be seventeen though, I'd fixed myself up a pretty good racket, stealing cigarettes from stores and then selling loosies to the people who couldn't afford the packs. Slightly up sold obviously, to make a profit, that was just to get me started off on things. I would use the money I earned selling loosie to get the cash I needed needed to buy mentats, buffout and jet to sell on the corner. The same corner I'd been hanging around on my whole life. But, unlike when I was just a kid playing marbles with the other street kids, I was top dog on that corner. I had fancy jacket with a snake painted on it, a gold tooth, hair slicked back and a sweet pistol tucked into his waistband and god damn did I feel like the cock of the walk. And man, I thought I was hot shit. All the girls loved me, I had that boyish smile and that thick auburn hair they just went wild for. I'm real friendly too, so they said I was like a puppy, which I know don't sound that cool but man, when Emma with the red lipstick and who everyone called Cherry on account of her hair puts her arms around your neck and says that you feel like you're on top of the world. But I ain't gonna lie. My luck ain't the worst, but it certainly ain't the best either. And it had to run out eventually. Apparently Three Fingers didn't like how all the girls were hanging around me now, and how all the gang was starting to look up to me more and I was making all this money. So, Three Fingers, he calls me over to his haunt at the Broken Wheel Bar where he would hang out to smoke cigarettes and drink beers all day and layed into me. I told him off, because in charge of the Rattlesnakes or not, I don't let anyone badmouth me, and that fucker hit me in the eye with a bottle, cut my eye up real good. Its where I got this scar from, the one that runs over my eyebrow and down around my eyes socket. We tussled for a bit but as I mentioned earlier, I ain't the strongest, and I could tell he was fixing to kill me right there. So, I pulled out that pistol I mentioned I had, and I shot the fucker right in his fucking neck. The blood pooled around his head like a paint bubble, and he died right there. That was the first time I ever killed somebody.

Well, I had been in and out of the justice system and foster homes since I was a little kid, but this was my first felony. I tried to run away, get out and maybe for east to New Vegas or New Reno, but they caught me trying to steal somebodies bike at the edge of town and threw me into prison. Real prison this time, not the drunk tank overnight. Eventually they put me up in front of a judge, who offered me a plea deal. I had killed in self defense, but the still had me on possession, dealing, resisting arrest and owning an unlicensed firearm, so I was gonna do some hard time. The judge told me, "son, you can go to prison and rot in a cell for the next five years, or you can join the army, where you could get out quicker but likely be shot and killed by a Legion sniper, an 80's tribal, or some cracked out raider in Portland. You choose." And well, I chose the Army, and not long after they put me on a bus to boot camp. I did alright there. I had some trouble on the obstacles, but my buddies all made sure to help me over them and in return I would help them with the paper tests. I'm a lot smarter than I look, so I did pretty well on those. And I did even better on the range. I was the top shooter of my class, I could pin targets reliably at the 300, and still pretty well on the 500. Eventually they gave me expert marksman and called me a Designated Marksman when they deployed me for the first time, along with my buddy from boot camp Franky. And boy did they deploy us. They sent us right out into the field, to some shit box base near the front lines with the Legion.

We all got settled pretty quick, setting up in tents at base, putting pinups in our lockers and amassing as many cigarette cartons as we could get our hands on before the vets took em. They sent us out into the field about a week after we got there. It was a four week operation, patrolling a route along the Colorado where California met Arizona. We spent those weeks dodging pot shots from Legion snipers and collecting any information we could get from the local settlers there. A lot of those folks had came up from Mexico expecting safety in the NCR but instead they got to live in a war zone. I spoke a little spanish, not much but it was enough, and it helped us to glean some information that was useful to military intelligence from the locals. By some miracle, we even managed to make it out of that operation, even through what felt like over a hundred shots taken at us per day. The only casualty we took was our medic, who hit his head and got a minor concussion after tripping over a dried out cactus. Fucking college boy. He was a good guy though, even if he was a bit of a wimp. Kept us all alive when it mattered.

We were a good company, did well in our missions and rarely got into any serious engagements. But like I said, my lucks fine but it ain't the best, so nothing ever gets to last forever with me. Our next operation in the field, the Legion was ready for us, and we walked right into the shit. We were trying to hustle along this big open space where there wasn't a lot of cover, only a few miles from their FOB, when some guy behind me yelled contact and had his fucking head head blown clean through. Whatever he was hit with was big, splattered his brain all over the damn place. We started getting shot at from all sides, from on top of a hill to our north and a little hamlet to our south. We were all trying to crawl between cover in the scrub while the Legion fucked us up from on top of that hill, and every once and a while would send another wave of their machete wielding nut jobs at us to try and hack us up. We kept trying to call for evac, but every time the vertibirds got close they were forced to back off because the legion was firing rockets at them from on top of the hill. One of the legionaries attacking us came down that hill with a primed grenade, and when we shot him up his grip on the trigger came off, the damn thing blew up three men. It killed three guys, peppered two more with shrapnel. That thing made a god almighty roar. Finally, when the vertibirds managed to land and we all ran for the choppers, my battle buddy, my best friend Franky kicked a mine and got turned into a limbless stump. All that was left was some skin holding his right arm onto his body, everything else had been scattered all over the sand. We had to leave them dead guys behind, and when the next patrol through came back to base they brought five body bags. One of the guys I knew from that company gave me the deck of cards Franky carried, the one with the girls on the back.

I got my first leave when that tour ended, and I went home as fast as I could. Me and Emma had kept in touch while i was gone, and she told me she loved me at the end of every letter she sent. I bought a ring with some of my money on the way back. It wasn't the prettiest, but it was the best one I could buy and still have money to get back to The Hub. She met me there, and as soon as I saw her I asked her to marry me. And she said no. She told me she wasn't going to marry a soldier, and she wasn't going to marry a dealer. I told her I wasn't a dealer anymore, and when I got out of the Army I was gonna buy a bike and me and her were gonna ride out of The Hub and go to New Vegas, where we could start over. But she told me that wasn't it. She loved me, but she wasn't going to marry someone who could die at any time. "And besides that," she said, "you're only twenty Jimmy. And I'm only eighteen. This is the NCR, we don't gotta get married so young, we can live forever in the NCR, we got time." I still write her, but I aint so sure anymore. Once I was back at base, they were talking about how some of us were gonna get transferred to the 63rd Battalion, they needed people for the campaign up in Oregon to take Portland. I wanted that hazard pay. Hazard pay could buy me that bike, with some left over, so me and Emma could go out to New Vegas, where the lights shine all night and the caps flow like water. I volunteered about as quick as I could, and they took me. So, I tucked one of those cards with the girls on the back into my helmet and keep a picture of Emma in my breast pocket at all times. I ain't going back to The Hub, and I ain't gonna be a two timing grifter for the rest of my life. I'm gonna be somebody, and if it means surviving Portland to make that hazard pay, its worth it if it means me and Emma don't gotta live in that shit hole forever. She can sing like an angel, and me and her are gonna make it big out in Vegas.
Do Not Remove: 2299

by **Anowa** » Thu Oct 10, 2019 11:38 pm

Tayner wrote:Name: Jeff "Servius" O'Connor
SPECIAL
S: 9
P: 6
E: 10
C: 3
I: 6
A: 5
L: 10
Do Not Remove: 2299

Trait Added:
Tough Enough:
Mentally and physically, you've stood the test of the wasteland. You have an air about you that makes people see you as a greater threat in battle, meaning they'll target you first, but you've been through worse. (You'll be actively targeted more than your fellows, but chances to sustain fatal blows through END are tripled.)

Equipment Added:
Marksman
- R700
- Bayonet
- NCR Army Battle Uniform
- C3 Gas Mask
- Mess Tin
- Bedroll

Accepted.

by **Scurvy Sea** » Sat Oct 12, 2019 8:44 am

maybe

by **Anowa** » Sat Oct 12, 2019 5:56 pm

The Twelve Isles wrote:Name: James Henry Barrow ("Jimmy")
SPECIAL
S: 4
P: 6
E: 4
C: 8
I: 8
A: 6
L: 4
Do Not Remove: 2299

Trait Added:
Brainpower:
Your mental prowess is higher than that of a good bulk of your peers. You may be given insight on to things that require a more intelligent touch. (The OP will give you a hint on any form of non combat puzzle to aid in it's resolution. Although the situation may not resolve in the best manner possible)

Equipment Added:
Rifleman
- M16A2
- Bayonet
- NCR Army Battle Uniform
- C3 Gas Mask
- Mess Tin
- Bedroll

Accepted.

by **Osterreichisch Deutsches Reich** » Mon Oct 14, 2019 10:07 pm

Generally new to the fallout universe, so this app will generally not be the best it could be, although I'l try.

WIP

Name: Jonathan Morris, ye can call me Jonny
Age:22
Gender:Male
Physical Description: 5 Foot 10, around 74 pounds, got me a nice scar on me leg, got a nice little dragon tatoo on my back. (Things not obvious in your character photo, like height, weight, tattoos, etc.)
Birthplace:Shady Sands, of the NCR. (Where they were born)
SPECIAL

S:5
P:3
E:3
C:4
I:6
A:4
L:3

Skills:I'm charming, if I do say so. Smart too, in a few senses. I'm a good listener, won't interrupt, as well as a good marksman, as my friends would say. Better than them by miles, 'lthough that ain't saying much. I'm not extremely strong, but I can talk my way out of a lot of situations, s (Choose three things the character excels at)
Perks: (At level 1 you shouldn't have any, simply put N/A here for the moment. Add your trait when given.)

N/A

Equipment: (Equipment will be given as the OP determines)

Biography:Me life wasn't extremely hard or extremely easy, more in the middle. I was generally innocent, 'til I was 14. Someone thought we looked easy, so he began beating up good 'ol Timmy, our friend, but hoo-boy we got him out real fast after we bit 'im. Ahh, those days. Did'n stand out at school too much, girls were more into Timmy. Timmy was a nice guy by all means, and we were the best of friends. Bloody gangs, never understood why ye would get in 'em, we generally "stood up for the weak" and stuff like that. Didn't make us too popular with the gangs, so we had to defend ourselves, and we got a ton of training from me dad, whom trained us every day, until them gangs left us alone.

Finally though, I saved up enough to buy me a pistol, and hoo-boy were we gonna use it to defend ourselves. Eventually though, a gang caught up with us, and we began a scuffle. They hit us with bloody beer bottles!
That's how I got me scar. And, Timmy, good 'ol timmy, like a brother to me, he died. After that, I kinda raged, last thing I knew, 2 of 'em were lyin' on the ground, and the rest were runnin' away at full speed, as I held me a pistol and a beer bottle that I apparently snatched from one of 'em. Good news though! We thought 'e was dead, but he wasn't. Death can't befall Good 'ol timmy. Now, by this time, good 'ol timmy was becoming NOT good 'ol timmy, and eventually he split from us. I was sad, but I got over it, until one day, we saw my younger brother getting beat up by Timmy. What'd I do? I confronted him. He and I scuffled, and I hit him on the head, then me an' the boys ran away, since we knew that our Good 'ol timmy was no more. A bad timmy had emerged in his place. Then, I accidentaly shot someone dead while defending me bros, and my sorry ass was hauled up before a judge. He said "son, ya can join the army, or rot in prison. Rot, and you'll be out, join then army, you'll probably get shot by some legion soldier whose had a better day than you." I said "army sounds nice to me", and so it was.

Joined the army, and I fit right in, at least I hoped. We got sent to patrol a route in colorado, dodged some legionaire snipers, trying to take info on the region, shooting any legion soldiers dumb enough to cross the border. Somehow, we managed to get out, thank god. I didn' speak a ton of spanish, 'lthough some other guys did, and any info we got was useful anyways.

Then, we were mindin' our own business, when a pretty large amount of legion soldiers came. We were like "ok, this cannot be an accident" before one of us got his head blown off. We fought and managed yo beat 'em, but we lost a lot of good men. I almost tripped on a mine, yet thankfully, a guy saved me from a certain death. Their machete-weilding rome-whatever crazies would try to kill us, and we'd shoot 'em down, but eventually they were forced to break.

Once that ended, I got a leave, so I went straight back to Shady Sands, to my daddy. Asked where Timmy was, he replied he was dead, shot by a gang member after he got way too pushy. Honestly, I had seen so much, I wasn't scarred. Timmy was simply a husk of himself by then, not a proper human. Met a girl, my life's looking up. But of course, It'll probably go right back down a soon as lady luck feels sadistic enough to do so.
Do Not Remove: 2299

by **Anowa** » Mon Oct 14, 2019 10:31 pm

Osterreichisch Deutsches Reich wrote:Generally new to the fallout universe, so this app will generally not be the best it could be, although I'l try.

WIP

I'm gonna stop you right there.

In general, the words should be outside the bold headers.

Also, above the code for the app, the request to delete everything in parenthesis was stated.

Code: Select all: [b]This:[/b] Is okay [b]This: is not[/b]

Osterreichisch Deutsches Reich wrote:
(Image)

This image is a pretty major NPC in the fallout games. Notably a public figure. Not the worst issue considering.

Osterreichisch Deutsches Reich wrote:Physical Description: 5 Foot 10, around 74 pounds, got me a nice scar on me leg, got a nice little dragon tatoo on my back.

So, the character has gone past 'Malnourished' and straight into 'Dachau Diet'. He's sitting at a BMI of roughly 10. The risk of organ failure, and prompt death usually begins at a BMI of 16.

Osterreichisch Deutsches Reich wrote:SPECIAL
S:5
P:3
E:3
C:4
I:6
A:4
L:3

Of the 40 available SPECIAL points, you've used 28. You have 12 remaining.

Osterreichisch Deutsches Reich wrote:Biography:Me life wasn't extremely hard or extremely easy, more in the middle. I was generally innocent, 'til I was 14. Someone thought we looked easy, so he began beating up good 'ol Timmy, our friend, but hoo-boy we got him out real fast after we bit 'im. Ahh, those days. Did'n stand out at school too much, girls were more into Timmy. Timmy was a nice guy by all means, and we were the best of friends. Bloody gangs, never understood why ye would get in 'em, we generally "stood up for the weak" and stuff like that. Didn't make us too popular with the gangs, so we had to defend ourselves, and we got a ton of training from me dad, whom trained us every day, until them gangs left us alone.

Finally though, I saved up enough to buy me a pistol, and hoo-boy were we gonna use it to defend ourselves. Eventually though, a gang caught up with us, and we began a scuffle. They hit us with bloody beer bottles!
That's how I got me scar. And, Timmy, good 'ol timmy, like a brother to me, he died. After that, I kinda raged, last thing I knew, 2 of 'em were lyin' on the ground, and the rest were runnin' away at full speed, as I held me a pistol and a beer bottle that I apparently snatched from one of 'em. Good news though! We thought 'e was dead, but he wasn't. Death can't befall Good 'ol timmy. Now, by this time, good 'ol timmy was becoming NOT good 'ol timmy, and eventually he split from us. I was sad, but I got over it, until one day, we saw my younger brother getting beat up by Timmy. What'd I do? I confronted him. He and I scuffled, and I hit him on the head, then me an' the boys ran away, since we knew that our Good 'ol timmy was no more. A bad timmy had emerged in his place. Then, I accidentaly shot someone dead while defending me bros, and my sorry ass was hauled up before a judge. He said "son, ya can join the army, or rot in prison. Rot, and you'll be out, join then army, you'll probably get shot by some legion soldier whose had a better day than you." I said "army sounds nice to me", and so it was.

Joined the army, and I fit right in, at least I hoped. We got sent to patrol a route in colorado, dodged some legionaire snipers, trying to take info on the region, shooting any legion soldiers dumb enough to cross the border. Somehow, we managed to get out, thank god. I didn' speak a ton of spanish, 'lthough some other guys did, and any info we got was useful anyways.

Then, we were mindin' our own business, when a pretty large amount of legion soldiers came. We were like "ok, this cannot be an accident" before one of us got his head blown off. We fought and managed yo beat 'em, but we lost a lot of good men. I almost tripped on a mine, yet thankfully, a guy saved me from a certain death. Their machete-weilding rome-whatever crazies would try to kill us, and we'd shoot 'em down, but eventually they were forced to break.

Once that ended, I got a leave, so I went straight back to Shady Sands, to my daddy. Asked where Timmy was, he replied he was dead, shot by a gang member after he got way too pushy. Honestly, I had seen so much, I wasn't scarred. Timmy was simply a husk of himself by then, not a proper human. Met a girl, my life's looking up. But of course, It'll probably go right back down a soon as lady luck feels sadistic enough to do so.

The bio is disjointed, seemingly rushed, and contains a number of errors, not including the obviously intended accent. 3 solid paragraphs that contain a solid plunge into the character's life are better than 6 that don't provide evidence of a well thought out or executed character.

Application denied.

by **Osterreichisch Deutsches Reich** » Tue Oct 15, 2019 11:54 am

Name: Jonathan Morris, ye can call me Jonny
Age:22
Gender:Male
Physical Description: 5 Foot 10, around 135 pounds, got me a nice scar on me leg, got a nice little dragon tatoo on my back.
Birthplace:Shady Sands, of the NCR.
SPECIAL

S:6
P:4
E:4
C:7
I:8
A:4
L:5

Skills:I'm charming, if I do say so. Smart too, in a few senses. I'm a good listener, won't interrupt, as well as a good marksman, as my friends would say. Better than them by miles, although that ain't saying much. I'm not extremely strong, but I can talk my way out of a lot of situations.
Perks:

N/A

Equipment:

Biography:
I haven't had one of the saddest or hardest lives, not by a long shot. But my life was never the easiest either. My dad was a battle-bred fighter, although he did care for us and worked his bones in order to let us live a better life than he had as a kid. My mother though, was a different story. She left me nearly after I was born, so I never knew her much, if at all. I was generally an easygoing kid, liked playing games with the others, and made a ton of friends, like Timmy, Rocky, and Jae. I had others, but those were the ones that stuck with me thick and thin, through my hardships and my easy times. True friends, those that are hard to come by.
We had good times, but we weren't the strongest or toughest, far from it, and we were picked on by bullies and gangs of the sort. Timmy was hit hardest though, since most of the girls were interested in him by the time we were teens. That made most of the other boys definitely NOT like us, and we were attacked a lot. So, we learned to defend ourselves. Got training from my dad, and we fought back against the bullies enough and enough until they got wise and left us alone. But I remember very vividly one gang. I forgot what they were called, but I do know they nicknamed their leader "Bear" on account of him being especially big. He liked this one girl, I was told, but she liked Timmy, so he decided to show him "who was boss." in his words, not mine. We were just walking back, to train a bit with my dad, until he and his lackeys attacked. We were surprised, but we regained our senses quickly, and good too. We began scuffling with him, hoping he and his lackeys would tire, but we were about equal in fighting. Poor timmy, he was fighting Bear and one of his lackeys. But finally, Timmy managed to get a kick at bear's neck, causing him to lose his balance and fall down. We didn't push our luck, and we ran to live another day.

When we were about 16, we discovered the joy and money in protection stuff. Kid would pay us a few caps to walk with them across the street, and if any bullies came along and decided to pick on them, we'd stop it. We made some good friends, whom we taught fighting to, and our thing EXPLODED. We were making money, and we managed to save enough to buy 4 of us, Me, Timmy,Rocky, and Jae, pistols. My dad also decided to train us, and we got VERY good. We were possibly the best marksmen in shady sands that were under 21. Then, we were assigned to about 5 people at once, so we split up to cover them all.Timmy and I went for one of them.That's when the bear and his lackeys decided to strike again. They hit us, and we fought back. One of them took out a bloody machete, and tried to cut my leg off! I dodged it, that's how I atill have 2 legs, but it left me with a scar on that leg that I mentioned earlier. Timmy and I began scuffling, but we saw that they were there to KILL us. So, as bear raised his machete to cut off Timmy's head off, Timmy and I both whipped out our pistols and shot him. He hit his heart, I hit his brain, and he fell down, lifeless. His lackeys took one look at us, and ran for their lives like little rats scurrying away. After that, I was shaken, as was Timmy, since it was our first time killing somebody, but we recovered. The rest of my earlier life was more uneventful, till I turned 20. I saw an army recruitment poster, so Timmy, Jae, Rocky and I decided to join. It was sad for me, but I braved through it, and promised my dad I would come back.

Arrived, and we fit in very well. Soon, we were sent to the colorado river, where we had a good time dodging potshots from legion snipers, killing legion soldiers whom were dumb enough to go on our side of the river. We were able to get info from the poor mexicans whom had moved, expecting a better life. If only they knew. I made some new friends during that time, and my bond with Timmy, Jae, and Rocky grew only stronger. Somehow, through divine providence it must have been, we survived, with the only casualty was Jae, whom was shot on the arm, but that was fixed up quickly. We were a good company I suppose, but one day, our collective luck ran out. We were ambushed, and seemingly trapped behind waves of fire. Each of our shots were almost surely fatal, but we were losing men due to the sheer firepower they had. Called for an evacuation, but the vertibirds were getting Fucked over by rockets. Finally, though, they landed, and as we were running to the choppers, we somehow managed to NOT take casualties, as if god had decided that enough was enough. That was a hellhole, and when it ended and I was offered a leave, I took it, and managed to get back to Shady Sands, and found my dad. We chatted a bit, I told him my dreams, to own a house, be a real man and whatnot, protect the weak and such. He told me about the portland campaign. The pay from there could get me closer to my dream, so I volounteered, and to my surprise? They took me in. I don't want to be a nobody, a drifter, living on the edge. I'm going to be something, and do something. This? This is just gonna get me closer than ever.
Do Not Remove: 2299

by **Vacif** » Tue Oct 15, 2019 1:48 pm

Hey bud, your bold text is still broken. Put the pertinent information on the outside of the [/b], not between.

by **Anowa** » Wed Oct 16, 2019 12:45 am

Osterreichisch Deutsches Reich wrote:
(Image)

Name: Jonathan Morris, ye can call me Jonny
Age:22
Gender:Male
Physical Description: 5 Foot 10, around 135 pounds, got me a nice scar on me leg, got a nice little dragon tatoo on my back.
Birthplace:Shady Sands, of the NCR.
SPECIAL
S:6
P:4
E:4
C:7
I:8
A:4
L:5
Skills:I'm charming, if I do say so. Smart too, in a few senses. I'm a good listener, won't interrupt, as well as a good marksman, as my friends would say. Better than them by miles, although that ain't saying much. I'm not extremely strong, but I can talk my way out of a lot of situations, s (
Perks:
N/A
Equipment:
Biography:
I haven't had one of the saddest or hardest lives, not by a long shot. But my life was never the easiest either. My dad was a battle-bred fighter, although he did care for us and worked his bones in order to let us live a better life than he had as a kid. My mother though, was a different story. She left me nearly after I was born, so I never knew her much, if at all. I was generally an easygoing kid, liked playing games with the others, and made a ton of friends, like Timmy, Rocky, and Jae. I had others, but those were the ones that stuck with me thick and thin, through my hardships and my easy times. True friends, those that are hard to come by.
We had good times, but we weren't the strongest or toughest, far from it, and we were picked on by bullies and gangs of the sort. Timmy was hit hardest though, since most of the girls were interested in him by the time we were teens. That made most of the other boys definitely NOT like us, and we were attacked a lot. So, we learned to defend ourselves. Got training from my dad, and we fought back against the bullies enough and enough until they got wise and left us alone. But I remember very vividly one gang. I forgot what they were called, but I do know they nicknamed their leader "Bear" on account of him being especially big. He liked this one girl, I was told, but she liked Timmy, so he decided to show him "who was boss." in his words, not mine. We were just walking back, to train a bit with my dad, until he and his lackeys attacked. We were surprised, but we regained our senses quickly, and good too. We began scuffling with him, hoping he and his lackeys would tire, but we were about equal in fighting. Poor timmy, he was fighting Bear and one of his lackeys. But finally, Timmy managed to get a kick at bear's neck, causing him to lose his balance and fall down. We didn't push our luck, and we ran to live another day.

When we were about 16, we discovered the joy and money in protection stuff. Kid would pay us a few caps to walk with them across the street, and if any bullies came along and decided to pick on them, we'd stop it. We made some good friends, whom we taught fighting to, and our thing EXPLODED. We were making money, and we managed to save enough to buy 4 of us, Me, Timmy,Rocky, and Jae, pistols. My dad also decided to train us, and we got VERY good. We were possibly the best marksmen in shady sands that were under 21. Then, we were assigned to about 5 people at once, so we split up to cover them all.Timmy and I went for one of them.That's when the bear and his lackeys decided to strike again. They hit us, and we fought back. One of them took out a bloody machete, and tried to cut my leg off! I dodged it, that's how I atill have 2 legs, but it left me with a scar on that leg that I mentioned earlier. Timmy and I began scuffling, but we saw that they were there to KILL us. So, as bear raised his machete to cut off Timmy's head off, Timmy and I both whipped out our pistols and shot him. He hit his heart, I hit his brain, and he fell down, lifeless. His lackeys took one look at us, and ran for their lives like little rats scurrying away. After that, I was shaken, as was Timmy, since it was our first time killing somebody, but we recovered. The rest of my earlier life was more uneventful, till I turned 20. I saw an army recruitment poster, so Timmy, Jae, Rocky and I decided to join. It was sad for me, but I braved through it, and promised my dad I would come back.

Arrived, and we fit in very well. Soon, we were sent to the colorado river, where we had a good time dodging potshots from legion snipers, killing legion soldiers whom were dumb enough to go on our side of the river. We were able to get info from the poor mexicans whom had moved, expecting a better life. If only they knew. I made some new friends during that time, and my bond with Timmy, Jae, and Rocky grew only stronger. Somehow, through divine providence it must have been, we survived, with the only casualty was Jae, whom was shot on the arm, but that was fixed up quickly. We were a good company I suppose, but one day, our collective luck ran out. We were ambushed, and seemingly trapped behind waves of fire. Each of our shots were almost surely fatal, but we were losing men due to the sheer firepower they had. Called for an evacuartion, but the vertibirds were getting Fucked over by rockets. Finally, though, they landed, and as we were running to the choppers, we somehow managed to NOT take casualties, as if god had decided that enough was enough. That was a hellhole, and when it ended and I was offered a leave, I took it, and managed to get back to Shady Sands, and found my dad. We chatted a bit, I told him my dreams, to own a house, be a real man and whatnot, protect the weak and such. He told me about the portland campaign. The pay from there could get me closer to my dream, so I volounteered, and to my surprise? They took me in. I don't want to be a nobody, a drifter, living on the edge. I'm going to be something, and do something. This? This is just gonna get me closer than ever.
Do Not Remove: 2299

Again, the issue of everything being bold. Besides that, just a few typos, namely missing capitals.

by **Solisian Union** » Sun Oct 20, 2019 9:56 pm

Name: Bella Noboa
Age: 27
Gender: Female
Physical Description: 5 feet 6 inches
137 pounds
Scars from shrapnel and bullets on her shoulders, chest, and arms
Missing left pinky finger
Tattoo of the NCR on the back of her neck
Birthplace: Arroyo
SPECIAL

S: 6
P: 5
E: 7
C: 1
I: 7
A: 7
L: 7

Skills: Guns - Proficiency at using weapons that fire standard ammunition.
Repair - Proficiency at repairing items and crafting items and ammunition.
Melee Weapons - Proficiency at using melee weapons.
Perks:

N/A

Equipment: (Equipment will be given as the OP determines)

Biography:

Arroyo was home. The NCR was the world. And beyond that was savagery.

To Bella, a woman of 27 years, she was born to a family that has dedicated itself to serving the world through two paths: Logistics and Combat.

A typical family with a typical tradition.

And just like her siblings and her cousins and the rest of her relatives, she joined the ranks. And she committed herself to further duty after the death of her oldest sister reached her family. A death over the old dam named after Hoover, a president of the now-defunct United States of America. One of the hopes of the Republic. A total victory was supposed to be taken. Instead, the Courier played her part in making it less of a total victory.

The good thing was that she was the first to know. She saw it happen. She was there with her. To hold her dying sister as her lungs collapsed and as she bled out, unaware that she had lost her entire left leg to shrapnel and burns — who would not know?

The consequence that haunted her and still does though is the birth of a desire to keep on fighting, and simply to earn her own red badge of courage as her sister did at the cost of her own life.

But death was not the only motivating force for her. She learned about the tales surrounding the Chosen One, and she was given knowledge of the Vault Dweller. And her own interest in the history of the New California Republic was second to none during her years as a youngster. So such things, without setting aside the influence her own family had upon her, drove her to the ranks.

And just like the men and women of the legends, she wished to learn from their examples, and to put them to the test with her own life and those of her opponents.

Though Rangers were heroes to her, and the returning veterans who accompanied her back home to Arroyo were comrades, she found herself restless. Unable to adjust to civilian life, she went back to her superiors and informed them that she wanted to keep on serving.

She was asked once, then twice, then no more. Sadly, she would not be posted somewhere facing New Vegas. Instead, she would be sent up to Portland.

And she wouldn’t mind serving there. As long as she could adjust. As long as she could fight. As long as she could do what her family had done all their lives for the Republic.

(extra photos of her: https://imgur.com/a/lBzaQM0)

Do Not Remove: 2299

by **Anowa** » Mon Oct 21, 2019 12:00 am

Solisian Union wrote:
(Image)

Name: Bella Noboa
SPECIAL
S: 6
P: 5
E: 7
C: 1
I: 7
A: 7
L: 7
Do Not Remove: 2299

Trait Added:
Lucky Number 13:
You come from a line of certified Anti-Son-of-a-Bitch machines. When many others would face an unlucky event, you prosper. Though with your family's history, luck comes at a price. (If a SPECIAL roll lands on a 13, it is an automatic success. However, Luck rolls are relegated to 2d5s instead of a d20. Making a much higher chance at failure.)

Equipment Added:
Rifleman
- M16A2
- Bayonet
- NCR Army Battle Uniform
- C3 Gas Mask
- Mess Tin
- Bedroll

Accepted.

Fallout: New Frontier (OOC|Fallout|DEAD)

Fallout: New Frontier (OOC|Fallout|DEAD)

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