War In Heaven (OOC|Semi-Closed|Sci-Fi|Mature)

[Greater Dmanian]

Oh. well I could throw that in if you think it would make the backstory more interesting

Oh no I wasn't commenting on the quality of your bio, nothing wrong with it. (I'm not CO-OP so hardly my call anyway). I was simply making a joke about a country that was a breadbasket with a capital city named Salisbury that is now a basket case and economically crippled. I thought it was an intentional reference on your part.

The real story comes in the RP so rather than spending ages writing up a bio you can be getting accepted and joining in. Whatever you are happy with.

[Crysuko]

Oh. well I could throw that in if you think it would make the backstory more interesting

Oh no I wasn't commenting on the quality of your bio, nothing wrong with it. (I'm not CO-OP so hardly my call anyway). I was simply making a joke about a country that was a breadbasket with a capital city named Salisbury that is now a basket case and economically crippled. I thought it was an intentional reference on your part.

The real story comes in the RP so rather than spending ages writing up a bio you can be getting accepted and joining in. Whatever you are happy with.

well it was an intentional reference, but-

eh, screw it i'll leave world building to the IC, assuming i'll be accepted.

[Post War America]

Name: Brock "Stumpy" Coulson
Age: 22
Gender: M
Appearance: Was once a decent looking individual, but now more machine than man. A broken face that once might have been considered handsome with the only trace left being piercing gray eyes. Both of his legs, and one of his arms have been replaced by cybernetic enhancements. Coulson's head is shaved but brown strands have once again been poking through the scalp.
Height: 1.85m (72.83'')
Weight: 68.2kg (150.36lb)
Biography: I can barely remember anything before the war. It was all so long ago. The one thing I do remember is that I grew up on some sort of industrial shitshow making weapons for the front. Had to wear a gas mask all the time for fear of suffocating in the smog, never saw the sun because the sky was filled with ash, drank recycled piss because the water was toxic. The first real event I truly remember though, was getting that draft slip. My folks were so concerned when they saw it, but I was like "hey couldn't be worse than drinking piss and eating protein blocks right"?

They shipped me off to a military induction center scanned a whole bunch of crap into my brain and shipped me off to the front. The transit wasn't too bad, but then we hit the front. Man was that LZ hot, ETs were crawling up our asses before we even hit the ground. Half the squad didn't even last five minutes, the rest of us held on for dear life as the rest of the company hit the ground. Then it just got worse. See the ETs had us surrounded and outgunned. We held out, but the bastards wiped most of us out. Then things got really quiet, which was worse, because then I could only focus on the fact that I was drinking piss and eating protein blocks. I made the most of it, building a distillery out of the crap that I found in our positions. The swill I could make out of our protein blocks wasn't great, but it was cheap and intoxicating, at least until the ETs blew it up, along with all my comrades, and my legs.

I don't really remember what happened next, but the people who found me said that I was found four days later with a ragged stump for an arm, and mindlessly pulling the trigger of an empty gun with my one remaining good limb. Then they put me into medical, stuck a a bunch of metal parts on me to make me "better, faster, stronger" or some bullshit like that, gave me a day to recover and then shipped me off with a new unit, one that was full of fresh newbies. Name's Stumpy by the way, sorry 'bout rambling on like that.
RP Examples: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=349230&start=50

[Anowa]

Name: John Mason-Stuart
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Appearance:

(Image)

Height: 6'2 F / 1.8 M
Weight: 90Kg / 198.4 lb
Biography: Born to a wealthy family on the breadbasket world of Salisbury, John enjoyed a comfortable life far from the constant fighting, though he was still concerned about it when reading news reports. When he came of age, he finally decided to make some preperations for it, he took up shooting as a hobby, his favoured weapon being an old kinetic rifle (seen in picture) and over time became rather proficient, his aim and patience becoming rather decent with constant practice. He took up work in the family company and worked there until the call to arms came. He knew he could likely use his family's money and connections to give them the slip, but when contemplating this, he knew he had been preparing for it himself over the years. With his sense of duty stirred, he passed the company on to a trusted cohort, and set out to deal with the alien menace.
RP Examples:
viewtopic.php?f=5&t=387782
viewtopic.php?f=5&t=389552
viewtopic.php?f=31&t=368268

Another volunteer.

Poor bastard. Accepted.

[Anowa]

Name: Brock "Stumpy" Coulson
Age: 22
Gender: M
Appearance: Was once a decent looking individual, but now more machine than man. A broken face that once might have been considered handsome with the only trace left being piercing gray eyes. Both of his legs, and one of his arms have been replaced by cybernetic enhancements. Coulson's head is shaved but brown strands have once again been poking through the scalp.
Height: 1.85m (72.83'')
Weight: 68.2kg (150.36lb)
Biography: I can barely remember anything before the war. It was all so long ago. The one thing I do remember is that I grew up on some sort of industrial shitshow making weapons for the front. Had to wear a gas mask all the time for fear of suffocating in the smog, never saw the sun because the sky was filled with ash, drank recycled piss because the water was toxic. The first real event I truly remember though, was getting that draft slip. My folks were so concerned when they saw it, but I was like "hey couldn't be worse than drinking piss and eating protein blocks right"?

They shipped me off to a military induction center scanned a whole bunch of crap into my brain and shipped me off to the front. The transit wasn't too bad, but then we hit the front. Man was that LZ hot, ETs were crawling up our asses before we even hit the ground. Half the squad didn't even last five minutes, the rest of us held on for dear life as the rest of the company hit the ground. Then it just got worse. See the ETs had us surrounded and outgunned. We held out, but the bastards wiped most of us out. Then things got really quiet, which was worse, because then I could only focus on the fact that I was drinking piss and eating protein blocks. I made the most of it, building a distillery out of the crap that I found in our positions. The swill I could make out of our protein blocks wasn't great, but it was cheap and intoxicating, at least until the ETs blew it up, along with all my comrades, and my legs.

I don't really remember what happened next, but the people who found me said that I was found four days later with a ragged stump for an arm, and mindlessly pulling the trigger of an empty gun with my one remaining good limb. Then they put me into medical, stuck a a bunch of metal parts on me to make me "better, faster, stronger" or some bullshit like that, gave me a day to recover and then shipped me off with a new unit, one that was full of fresh newbies. Name's Stumpy by the way, sorry 'bout rambling on like that.
RP Examples: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=349230&start=50

Accepted.

[Post War America]

Name: Brock "Stumpy" Coulson
Age: 22
Gender: M
Appearance: Was once a decent looking individual, but now more machine than man. A broken face that once might have been considered handsome with the only trace left being piercing gray eyes. Both of his legs, and one of his arms have been replaced by cybernetic enhancements. Coulson's head is shaved but brown strands have once again been poking through the scalp.
Height: 1.85m (72.83'')
Weight: 68.2kg (150.36lb)
Biography: I can barely remember anything before the war. It was all so long ago. The one thing I do remember is that I grew up on some sort of industrial shitshow making weapons for the front. Had to wear a gas mask all the time for fear of suffocating in the smog, never saw the sun because the sky was filled with ash, drank recycled piss because the water was toxic. The first real event I truly remember though, was getting that draft slip. My folks were so concerned when they saw it, but I was like "hey couldn't be worse than drinking piss and eating protein blocks right"?

They shipped me off to a military induction center scanned a whole bunch of crap into my brain and shipped me off to the front. The transit wasn't too bad, but then we hit the front. Man was that LZ hot, ETs were crawling up our asses before we even hit the ground. Half the squad didn't even last five minutes, the rest of us held on for dear life as the rest of the company hit the ground. Then it just got worse. See the ETs had us surrounded and outgunned. We held out, but the bastards wiped most of us out. Then things got really quiet, which was worse, because then I could only focus on the fact that I was drinking piss and eating protein blocks. I made the most of it, building a distillery out of the crap that I found in our positions. The swill I could make out of our protein blocks wasn't great, but it was cheap and intoxicating, at least until the ETs blew it up, along with all my comrades, and my legs.

I don't really remember what happened next, but the people who found me said that I was found four days later with a ragged stump for an arm, and mindlessly pulling the trigger of an empty gun with my one remaining good limb. Then they put me into medical, stuck a a bunch of metal parts on me to make me "better, faster, stronger" or some bullshit like that, gave me a day to recover and then shipped me off with a new unit, one that was full of fresh newbies. Name's Stumpy by the way, sorry 'bout rambling on like that.
RP Examples: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=349230&start=50

Accepted.

I just realized, I forgot to add usage of drinking piss and eating protein blocks in the third paragraph... the inconsistency is shameful.

[Crysuko]

Neat. I'll have a post up soon.

[Apror]

Neat. I'll have a post up soon.

Yus.

[Vahltunskhja]

a country that was a breadbasket with a capital city named Salisbury that is now a basket case and economically crippled

If we spray-painted our rifles the colour of baby shit and replace the vague speciesism with vague racism, all we'd need are fabulous short-shorts to start slotting ET floppies.

I'm a bit saddened by the availability of cigarettes. Surely at the very least behind the lines the soldiers can get some cheap tobacco to keep moral up?

[Apror]

a country that was a breadbasket with a capital city named Salisbury that is now a basket case and economically crippled

If we spray-painted our rifles the colour of baby shit and replace the vague speciesism with vague racism, all we'd need are fabulous short-shorts to start slotting ET floppies.

I'm a bit saddened by the availability of cigarettes. Surely at the very least behind the lines the soldiers can get some cheap tobacco to keep moral up?

They're no luxuries I believe, and smoking probably heavily looked down upon.

[Parcia]

Holy fucking shit why did I not see this before.

Translation: Tactical Tag inbound!

Can I get a peak at what the weapons look like?

[Anowa]

Holy fucking shit why did I not see this before.

Translation: Tactical Tag inbound!

Can I get a peak at what the weapons look like?

Currently, you get a sci-fi looking M14 with wood furniture.

[Parcia]

Holy fucking shit why did I not see this before.

Translation: Tactical Tag inbound!

Can I get a peak at what the weapons look like?

Currently, you get a sci-fi looking M14 with wood furniture.

SO an M14.

Do I get a side arm, maybe a K-bar too?

I also see a distinct lack of that one person in the unit who isn't an officer despite surviving impossibly long in relation to his peers.

[Anowa]

Currently, you get a sci-fi looking M14 with wood furniture.

SO an M14.

Do I get a side arm, maybe a K-bar too?

That comes with the shipment of full-auto/burst rifles, emplaced guns, and the haunting chance of unit re-specialization.

So you just have your rifle, a steel helmet, shoulder pads, knee pads and a ceramic chest piece

[Apror]

http://modernfirearms.net/userfiles/ima ... 14_dmr.jpg

Gib clay.

[Parcia]

SO an M14.

Do I get a side arm, maybe a K-bar too?

That comes with the shipment of full-auto/burst rifles, emplaced guns, and the haunting chance of unit re-specialization.

So you just have your rifle, a steel helmet, shoulder pads, knee pads and a ceramic chest piece

Damn, was hoping for an automatic 6-gauge firing explosive slugs from a 45 round drum mag..

Im joking. Right then Generic conscript number 46768-9785974-975475948 inbound.

[Apror]

That comes with the shipment of full-auto/burst rifles, emplaced guns, and the haunting chance of unit re-specialization.

So you just have your rifle, a steel helmet, shoulder pads, knee pads and a ceramic chest piece

Damn, was hoping for an automatic 6-gauge firing explosive slugs from a 45 round drum mag..

Im joking. Right then Generic conscript number 46768-9785974-975475948 inbound.

Maybe the two can be friends, I don't know.

[Parcia]

Name: Jackson "Jack" Tanith
Age:17
Gender:M
Appearance: Minus the armor

[spoiler]

Height: Metric: 1 meter, roughly Imperial: 5 feet, 11 inches
Weight: Metric:78.8 kilograms Imperial: 176 pounds
Biography:
Born on Harvest, one of the more well known farming worlds, he grew up poor and rough, stealing, fighting and drinking by the time he turned 14. He was in and out of prison for some time, though only serving light sentences for small crimes before getting caught for armed robbery. When his letter of enlistment came, he was both overjoyed and terrified. On on hand he was getting out of prison, on the other, it was to likely die fighting some shite xenos on some outer colonial world.
RP Examples: In the Grim dark future of the 41st millennium, there is only war!

[Apror]

Name: Jackson "Jack" Tanith
Age:17
Gender:M
Appearance:
Height: (Metric AND Imperial)
Weight: (Metric AND Imperial)
Biography: Your average Underhive ganger outstanding citizen with a criminal background.
RP Examples: In the Grim dark future of the 41st millennium, there is only war!

Ummmm?

[Anowa]

Name: Jackson "Jack" Tanith
Age:17
Gender:M
Appearance:
Height: (Metric AND Imperial)
Weight: (Metric AND Imperial)
Biography: Your average Underhive ganger outstanding citizen with a criminal background.
RP Examples: In the Grim dark future of the 41st millennium, there is only war!

Ummmm?

WIP = Work in Pogress

[Parcia]

Yea, no, not done with the app yet, multitasking between this and some work.

[Apror]

Yea, no, not done with the app yet, multitasking between this and some work.

Yeah, that was my assumption

[Walrusvylon]

Who exactly are we fighting in the IC currently?

[Anowa]

Who exactly are we fighting in the IC currently?

...

No one currently.

Prior we were fighting aliens.

[Apror]

Who exactly are we fighting in the IC currently?

...

No one currently.

Prior we were fighting aliens.

Right now we're collecting dog tags, and using corpses as sandbags. Andrew is helping move a body right now.