Hey there Spawn, I worked with Benn on this and we've a few things we want to address.
-Concerning the backstory of the character, overall the concept of it is perfectly fine. We were a bit disappointed to see that the tribe the character was from wasn’t named. But we liked the concept of it, though we believe a few things worthy of change would be how the inhabitants of this tribe became generally larger and stronger than most normal people; as saying it was because of a, “harsh upbringing” doesn’t entirely explain much of anything. Instead we feel it would be better if it was because of incest, radiation, cannibalism, or a combination of these things.
As well as the unnecessary harshness of his childhood. While perfectly fine to have a character who was beaten by his parents or had some sort of rough upbringing, we feel it better if there was some sort of explanation as to ‘why’ this happened. Rather than just having a rough upbringing simply because it makes him more ‘deep’.
-His high pain tolerance "flaw" is hardly a flaw at all, your example of his pain tolerance worries me as it implies he's so resilient to pain that he would not notice an arrow in his back, which is simply unrealistic and overpowered.
-Requested equipment and character's current status in Coahuiltecan; in the final paragraph of of your backstory you state that he is slightly more than a slave, has he earned their trust as a warrior(implied by his weaponry) in only a few years, how did he rise among the other slaves with a quick temper and hate for his captors(who aren't really in desperate need for better warriors)? I appreciate the attempt at diversity, but if you want him to be a slave turned warrior you should rethink how you play this character, his personality and explain in his backstory how he worked his way up, however I strongly recommend you just start as a slave, get a feel for how the character works before deciding how he acts, this will also be much easier to explain in backstory
-We've tried to hold back on nitpicking at things that don't necessarily need to be addressed, but the following is noteworthy:
His hatred for the Coahuiltecan and plan to work his way up the ranks either for a chance at revenge or just to survive conflict with his personality "tends to get ticked off easily and/or prefers a more brawn over brains" "doesn't aspire to any sort of greater goal" "tendency to lash out at others who tick him off in any sort of matter" looking past the personality conflict, if I focus on his personality he seems like a recipe for disaster as a Coahuiltecan slave, however you seem to describe him being beaten into obedience. I feel like when you wrote his personality you weren't describing his current state, does he obey them while hating them and therefore no longer quick-tempered and brutish? Again this isn't a horrible issue but we'd like some clarification.
As of right now you are Denied
You have 2 more tries, we look forward to hearing from you again if you have any questions you have our skypes.
Skype name (Optional for the group chat/faction chats):
Time Zone: NDT
Prior Bans and reasons: Most Recently- Trolling/Being Silly – Because I was very bored and tried to fix that in a very stupid way.
Define Role-play: Acting, immersing yourself into a world as a character and having that character act just as a real person would in a real world(Fear death even though you know in real life you can just respawn, have their ears hurt from a loud noise even though you in your computer chair just had to turn the volume down a bit are examples of Role-Playing while using a video game as a platform.)
Define Powergaming: Forcing an action and a reaction to occur in Role-Play, (*fires rifle and kills assailaint instantly* as opposed to *fires the rifle aimed at his opponent*)Even if the outcome you state is likely, it is not your job to roleplay the reaction to your action, that is the other player’s responsibility. You could also associate Powergaming with simply being ridiculously overpowered like surviving something that you couldn’t possibly survive.
Define Metagaming: Having your character know what you know – using OOC information IC.
Previous roleplay experience: I’ve played on servers like these before but not in a while, I’d bet my money that I’m really rusty right now which is why I want to get back into it.
Previous Fallout experience: The first game I played was Fallout 3, I had really fell in love with the lore and the wiki by Fallout: New Vegas, many of the RP servers I’ve played on have been Fallout-themed.
Have you read the rules?: Yes
Write any further questions here:
There is no escaping the shadows of the old world.
IC:
Character Name: Frederic Withers
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Race: Caucasoid/White
Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): 5ft and 11 inches in height, at the top of his thin body; a gaunt neck holding up a head of greasy black hair. He has restless blue eyes with bags under them divided by a thin nose. He has dirt, inflamed areas and scabs covering parts of his body.
Strengths: Experienced in repairing makeshift armors and scrap shacks. Knows how to operate most small guns and rifles, but doesn’t have the best long range aim making him best with personal defense weapons.
Weaknesses: Fred has lived his life suffering from vitamin deficiency, giving him weak bones that hurt easily if he puts too much pressure on his legs, making running more taxing, this combined with little muscle makes him an awful candidate for melee combat. He has lost some patches of skin from radiation poisoning, and is prone to vomiting from his radiation sickness. His appearance makes him look like he is addicted to the worst of chems, but fact is he’s just disease-ridden.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L. (Like in the games, you have 40 points to allocate. You must have at least one point in each, and cannot have more than ten.):
Strength: 3
Perception: 5
Endurance: 3
Charisma: 6
Intelligence: 7
Agility: 8
Luck: 8
Character Biography (Please include at least two quality paragraphs):
Fred was born in early 2248 south of the ruins of Ottawa, Canada. His mother was the leader of a group of traveling wasters. But Fred’s first memories were of a town that he grew up in, a collection of people holding their own against the wastes in the ruins of Watertown, USA. He spent his youth working on maintaining and creating shacks composed of scrap metal in the settlement with his mother. By age twenty, he’d learned how to use more basic forging tools like the blowtorch and developed a hobby of repairing traveler’s armor in exchange for supplies.
When his mother passed from unidentified disease in 2274, Fred left the now poverty-stricken town and headed north-east, taking his belongings with him and partnering with a tougher, more experienced local named Merrick. Fred and Merrick traveled the wastes, Fred handled the sales and Merrick was responsible for security. In 2275 the two repaired ancient gladiator masks for an ice-gang and helped them navigate their way through the black river.
After a year of dodging raiders and arduous haggling, the two had gained another guard, and a pack Brahmin. They considered themselves wealthy enough to cash in for a bit, and look at a more permanent home and business. The two returned to Watertown in late 2275, finding a shell of what used to be considered sanctuary from the horrors of the wasteland. Fred and Merrick bickered about whether they should stay there for the night. Fred assured him that his home town wouldn’t cross him, and so the two rested in the town for the night, exchanging food for shelter. When Fred awoke, he found his partner gone, exiting the bunkhouse to see his pack Brahmin and guard gone as well. He asked the gate guard what happened, and was told that his caravan guard had stolen the Brahmin with some locals, and that his partner left looking for them.
Fred waited a week, getting back in touch with some childhood friends, but many of the people he’d knew had left. He helped the town ward off a small raider attack, somewhat regretting leaving his home town in its time of need almost two years ago. Growing impatient, Fred left the settlement and searched the ruins of Watertown, after a few hours he stumbled upon the body of the traitorous caravan guard, and a local from the settlement, bloody craters in their chests from a shotgun, but no sign of the Brahmin, or Merrick. Fred searched until dark, returning to the town, confused. He was unsure whether he’d been conned by his business partner for all he was worth, or got a close friend killed by making a bad call.
Fred rejoined the settlement and lived there for most of 2276, he tried to help the settlement out by trading with travelers, but sometimes the greedy merchant side of him outshined the good; and he would stash food for himself in case he needed to leave. Over the year the raider attacks became worse, caravans stopped coming to the settlement despite the attraction Fred tried to create. Many left the settlement, less than a dozen wasters remained. One day, a band of slavers rolled into town, and took the young, killing those who fought back and leaving the old. Fred fled the settlement without getting to his supplies, knowing being a hero would only get him killed.
Now in 2277, Fred wanders the wastes trying to find a new town, living off the land and trading with those he deems safe to approach.
Roleplay Scenario: Time: 3:18 P.M. Location: 14 miles South of Niagara
As you're walking north along a desolate highway when you spot two large black birds circling in the sky in the distance. To the east, large thunderheads loom on the horizon. Hopeful to avoid the storm, you begin to walk a bit more briskly; scanning the area to find shelter from the radioactive downpour. You observe a small light grey smoke plume coming from the median of the highway only a couple hundred meters away. Before approaching the scene, you take a quick look in your bag (below is a list of your items). As you approach the scene, you can see that it is a Merchant Caravan that has been hit, likely by raiders. The merchant lies bloody and beaten to death near a slaughtered Brahman, blood covers his clothing and a box of items is scattered near him. Of the two guards, one lies near a jersey barrier; empty shell casings from her caravan shotgun scattered around her corpse. The other guard is struggling to pull himself upright using the one of the carts wheels, his left leg had been blown off below the shin and is now nothing but a bloody mix of singed skin and asphalt.
Bag contents:
1x 10mm Pistol
4x 10mm Pistol rounds
1x bottle of dirty water
2x Mentants
1x Salisbury steak
1x Squirrel on a stick
1x small radio (functional)
1x Stimpak
1x Half-used first aid kit (missing supplies)
What do you do?:
Fred approaches the surviving guard, kneeling down and helping the guard sit against the cart instead of foolishly trying to walk. “Where were you headed?” “The Falls, to the north” Replies the guard, stumbling over his own words. Fred takes off his belt and goes to wrap it above the Guard’s stump “I think you’re supposed to put pressure on it or something.” “Help me, please.” Says the guard, grabbing Fred’s arm, breathing heavily. “Your foot is pretty mezzed, man. Your caravan did they come from anywhere near here?” “Help me, please you’ve got to.” Fred sighs, standing up and looking down at the miserable man, then looking to the eastern skies. Fred opens his bag, looking at the little pistol rounds he had left, hesitantly closing the bag. “There’s nothing I can do.” Fred said, frowning and turning to search the caravan as the man whaled, but the good were picked clean by attackers. Fred walked off the road and to the north-west, hoping to avoid whoever attacked the caravan, escape the storm, and find shelter. The black birds still looming over the sacked caravan.
OOC:
IGN: FrothedMilk
Age (Optional): 15
Skype name (Optional for the group chat/faction chats):
Time Zone: NDT
Prior Bans and reasons: Most Recently- Trolling/Being Silly – Because I was very bored and tried to fix that in a very stupid way.
Define Role-play: Acting, immersing yourself into a world as a character and having that character act just as a real person would in a real world(Fear death even though you know in real life you can just respawn, have their ears hurt from a loud noise even though you in your computer chair just had to turn the volume down a bit are examples of Role-Playing while using a video game as a platform.)
Define Powergaming: Forcing an action and a reaction to occur in Role-Play, (*fires rifle and kills assailaint instantly* as opposed to *fires the rifle aimed at his opponent*)Even if the outcome you state is likely, it is not your job to roleplay the reaction to your action, that is the other player’s responsibility. You could also associate Powergaming with simply being ridiculously overpowered like surviving something that you couldn’t possibly survive.
Define Metagaming: Having your character know what you know – using OOC information IC.
Previous roleplay experience: I’ve played on servers like these before but not in a while, I’d bet my money that I’m really rusty right now which is why I want to get back into it.
Previous Fallout experience: The first game I played was Fallout 3, I had really fell in love with the lore and the wiki by Fallout: New Vegas, many of the RP servers I’ve played on have been Fallout-themed.
Have you read the rules?: Yes
Write any further questions here:
There is no escaping the shadows of the old world.
IC:
Character Name: Frederic Withers
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Race: Caucasoid/White
Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): 5ft and 11 inches in height, at the top of his thin body; a gaunt neck holding up a head of greasy black hair. He has restless blue eyes with bags under them divided by a thin nose. He has dirt, inflamed areas and scabs covering parts of his body.
Strengths: Experienced in repairing makeshift armors and scrap shacks. Knows how to operate most small guns and rifles, but doesn’t have the best long range aim making him best with personal defense weapons.
Weaknesses: Fred has lived his life suffering from vitamin deficiency, giving him weak bones that hurt easily if he puts too much pressure on his legs, making running more taxing, this combined with little muscle makes him an awful candidate for melee combat. He has lost some patches of skin from radiation poisoning, and is prone to vomiting from his radiation sickness. His appearance makes him look like he is addicted to the worst of chems, but fact is he’s just disease-ridden.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L. (Like in the games, you have 40 points to allocate. You must have at least one point in each, and cannot have more than ten.):
Strength: 3
Perception: 5
Endurance: 3
Charisma: 6
Intelligence: 7
Agility: 8
Luck: 8
Character Biography (Please include at least two quality paragraphs):
Fred was born in early 2248 south of the ruins of Ottawa, Canada. His mother was the leader of a group of traveling wasters. But Fred’s first memories were of a town that he grew up in, a collection of people holding their own against the wastes in the ruins of Watertown, USA. He spent his youth working on maintaining and creating shacks composed of scrap metal in the settlement with his mother. By age twenty, he’d learned how to use more basic forging tools like the blowtorch and developed a hobby of repairing traveler’s armor in exchange for supplies.
When his mother passed from unidentified disease in 2274, Fred left the now poverty-stricken town and headed north-east, taking his belongings with him and partnering with a tougher, more experienced local named Merrick. Fred and Merrick traveled the wastes, Fred handled the sales and Merrick was responsible for security. In 2275 the two repaired ancient gladiator masks for an ice-gang and helped them navigate their way through the black river.
After a year of dodging raiders and arduous haggling, the two had gained another guard, and a pack Brahmin. They considered themselves wealthy enough to cash in for a bit, and look at a more permanent home and business. The two returned to Watertown in late 2275, finding a shell of what used to be considered sanctuary from the horrors of the wasteland. Fred and Merrick bickered about whether they should stay there for the night. Fred assured him that his home town wouldn’t cross him, and so the two rested in the town for the night, exchanging food for shelter. When Fred awoke, he found his partner gone, exiting the bunkhouse to see his pack Brahmin and guard gone as well. He asked the gate guard what happened, and was told that his caravan guard had stolen the Brahmin with some locals, and that his partner left looking for them.
Fred waited a week, getting back in touch with some childhood friends, but many of the people he’d knew had left. He helped the town ward off a small raider attack, somewhat regretting leaving his home town in its time of need almost two years ago. Growing impatient, Fred left the settlement and searched the ruins of Watertown, after a few hours he stumbled upon the body of the traitorous caravan guard, and a local from the settlement, bloody craters in their chests from a shotgun, but no sign of the Brahmin, or Merrick. Fred searched until dark, returning to the town, confused. He was unsure whether he’d been conned by his business partner for all he was worth, or got a close friend killed by making a bad call.
Fred rejoined the settlement and lived there for most of 2276, he tried to help the settlement out by trading with travelers, but sometimes the greedy merchant side of him outshined the good; and he would stash food for himself in case he needed to leave. Over the year the raider attacks became worse, caravans stopped coming to the settlement despite the attraction Fred tried to create. Many left the settlement, less than a dozen wasters remained. One day, a band of slavers rolled into town, and took the young, killing those who fought back and leaving the old. Fred fled the settlement without getting to his supplies, knowing being a hero would only get him killed.
Now in 2277, Fred wanders the wastes trying to find a new town, living off the land and trading with those he deems safe to approach.
Roleplay Scenario: Time: 3:18 P.M. Location: 14 miles South of Niagara
As you're walking north along a desolate highway when you spot two large black birds circling in the sky in the distance. To the east, large thunderheads loom on the horizon. Hopeful to avoid the storm, you begin to walk a bit more briskly; scanning the area to find shelter from the radioactive downpour. You observe a small light grey smoke plume coming from the median of the highway only a couple hundred meters away. Before approaching the scene, you take a quick look in your bag (below is a list of your items). As you approach the scene, you can see that it is a Merchant Caravan that has been hit, likely by raiders. The merchant lies bloody and beaten to death near a slaughtered Brahman, blood covers his clothing and a box of items is scattered near him. Of the two guards, one lies near a jersey barrier; empty shell casings from her caravan shotgun scattered around her corpse. The other guard is struggling to pull himself upright using the one of the carts wheels, his left leg had been blown off below the shin and is now nothing but a bloody mix of singed skin and asphalt.
Bag contents:
1x 10mm Pistol
4x 10mm Pistol rounds
1x bottle of dirty water
2x Mentants
1x Salisbury steak
1x Squirrel on a stick
1x small radio (functional)
1x Stimpak
1x Half-used first aid kit (missing supplies)
What do you do?:
Fred approaches the surviving guard, kneeling down and helping the guard sit against the cart instead of foolishly trying to walk. “Where were you headed?” “The Falls, to the north” Replies the guard, stumbling over his own words. Fred takes off his belt and goes to wrap it above the Guard’s stump “I think you’re supposed to put pressure on it or something.” “Help me, please.” Says the guard, grabbing Fred’s arm, breathing heavily. “Your foot is pretty mezzed, man. Your caravan did they come from anywhere near here?” “Help me, please you’ve got to.” Fred sighs, standing up and looking down at the miserable man, then looking to the eastern skies. Fred opens his bag, looking at the little pistol rounds he had left, hesitantly closing the bag. “There’s nothing I can do.” Fred said, frowning and turning to search the caravan as the man whaled, but the good were picked clean by attackers. Fred walked off the road and to the north-west, hoping to avoid whoever attacked the caravan, escape the storm, and find shelter. The black birds still looming over the sacked caravan.
Have you played any Fallout games? Which one(s): Fallout 1, 2, & Tactics (Not Thoroughly) Fallout 3 & New Vegas (Thoroughly)
Why do you want to play on this server? I’m looking for a good fallout server, and a friend plays on it.
Did you read the rules? Yes
Have you read the lore? Yes
IC:
Name: Warren Salvatore
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Character's signifying traits and attributes: Warren is a survivalist, he can make it on his own in the wastes, but after years of traveling he hopes he can finally find a place to call home. He won’t often have much to say, and may come off a bit strange to most because of his isolation in his past years, he knows how to use a variation of guns, he has the least experience with energy weapons, mainly in terms of maintenance and reloading. He has good eyes, often able to spot people from a distance. He is far from a scientist, and the only thing he knows how to fix by himself is his own gun, as well as some first aid. He doesn’t care much for civilization, some might say they see evil in his eyes, there’s no telling for sure if he’s violent or not, might depend on how he wakes up, a wildcard that simple folk wouldn’t trust.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L.
Strength-5
Perception-8
Endurance-7
Charisma-4
Intelligence-4
Agility-7
Luck-5
RP Scenario: (Use the scenario written below)
Time: 3:18 P.M.
Location: 27 miles South of Seattle.
As you're walking north along a desolate highway to a few hundred meters ahead you can see 2 large black birds circling in the sky, to the east a few miles off large thunderheads can be seen. Hopeful to avoid the storm you begin to walk a bit more briskly scanning your area to find shelter from the rain. You observe a small light grey smoke plume coming from the median of the highway only a couple hundred meters away. Before approaching the scene you take a quick look in your bag (below is a list of your items). As you approach the scene you can see that it is an Emerald Trading Company Caravan that has been hit, the merchant lies dead near a slaughtered Brahman blood covers his clothing and a box of items is scattered near him. Of the two guards, one lies near a jersey barrier; empty shell casings from the cowboy repeater are scattered around the body. The other guard is struggling to pull himself upright using the one of the carts wheels; his leg has been blown off below the shin and is now nothing but a bloody mix of singed skin and asphalt.
Bag contents: 1x 10mm Pistol7x 10mm Pistol rounds1x bottle of dirty water2x mentants1x salisbury steak1x Squirrel on a stick1x small radio (working) 1x stimpak1x Half-used first aid kit (missing supplies)
What do you do?
I take a simple look at him, realizing he won’t survive unless there’s someone who cares enough to help him hiding behind a nearby rock. I crouch down next to him and would forcively help him relax against the cart. I search him for any caps or items he may have, “Real shame this happened to you, ‘not going to let it ruin my day.” I say, covering my nose as I stand up and back away. I take my 10mm Pistol, aim it at his head and pull the trigger; I scour the area for any remaining supplies I can carry before heading on down the road (If possible taking some of the larger pieces of the dead men’s clothes, using it as a cowl for the coming storm).
Character biography:
Warren was born in 2257; November 11th in Sac-Town, California, Northern NCR, his father, Ramos was a Mercenary working for the Happy Trails Caravan Company, accompanying traders as they traveled to New Reno and back. His mother, Joanne spent her time taking care of him, and relaxing in their home, not watching over Warren very carefully. Their home was a simple 2-floor suburban home, lit by natural light and lamps. His father would spend eight days to New Reno, 2 days there, and 8 days returning, adding up to 18 days, while traveling with the Happy Trails Traders he would accompany. His father would wait at least a week before leaving again, while home, he spent time with Warren.
When Warren was ten, Ramos taught him how to handle handguns, the first weapon he fired was a .22 pistol, his aim was sloppy, and the fact that his dad was there made him nervous, as the first week of training came to an end, he had learned how to load most handguns, and his father had to leave with a trader again. The .22 pistol was hidden away. As Joanne left him alone in the house again, likely not thinking about Warren. Warren searched the house for weapons, he found a .357 magnum revolver and some ammo in a box under his parent’s bed, and he took it and put it in the pocket of his hooded jacket. Leaving the house and heading away from the populated street, going behind an old RobCo factory where his father taught him to shoot. He set up pieces of scrap to be used for target practice, and practiced his shooting from midday to past sundown; he began to make his way back home.
He entered his home, and looked to see a pair of men’s boots next to the door, “Mom?” he called out, no response, “Mom?” he called out again, no response. He looked in the kitchen, she was not downstairs, he crept upstairs slowly, pushing the door half-open, slowly, he looked in and saw a man, slipping on his shirt at the edge of his parent’s bed, he pushed the door open, the man looking over, “Hey!” he said, Joanne under the covers, turning over to see Warren. She sits up, still covering herself, “Warren, go to bed and I’ll come talk to you, you should’ve knocked.” Warren stepped into the room, putting his hand into his right pocket, taking out the .357 and aiming it at the now-standing man. “Whoa, kiddo hey you don’t want to do-” Warren fired, shooting the man in the chest, he gripped his wound and fell back onto the bed. Warren shook, ventilating, he lowered and dropped the revolver. Only now, he noticed the NCR Dog tags, his mother looked down at the man in shock, her hand covering her mouth. Warren stepped back, running out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the house, he saw men to the right coming towards the house to investigate, he ran down the street and away from the town.
Warren planned on returning when he expected his father to come back, but he was plucked up by raiders a few miles out before the time came, the raiders brought him to their camp, where he was caged as a prisoner, after a month of living like an animal, the raiders released him into a pit with a vicious dog, it was bony, parts of its fur was falling off, and it growled angrily at Warren, it barked, Warren scuttled backwards into a corner as it barked and neared him. The dog nipped at Warren, he kicked at it, the dog backed off, barking. Warren brought himself to his feet, picking up his ceramic bowl that the raiders used to feed him when caged. He gripped the bottom of the bowl, and when the dog leaped forward towards him, he bashed the bowl into its face, kneeing it in the chest. The bowl didn’t break, the dog backed off a bit, and one of the sitting raiders up above stood, watching. Warren looked up at the raiders; one said “Finish him off, kid, or we’ll feed you to’im!” Warren gulped, looking down at the hound, it had backed off and posed no immediate threat, Warren closed his eyes for a moment, gulping as he threw the bowl at the dog’s head, stepping on its face with his boot, mashing the broken bowl into its brain, stepping on its neck. He stomped on it repeatedly, crying and falling back onto the ground, “I’m sorry…” he whimpered, closing his eyes as a raider pulled him up out of the pit.
The raiders traveled north over the years, by the year 2275, they were located around Eagle Lake, there were about 50 of them, primarily raiding travelers along Highway 139. Warren was seventeen; he was one of the raiders by now. He had learned how to use rifles by now, and has been changed by his former captors mentally. Now merciless and blank while raiding, toughened through years of spending time with the raiders. They continued on raiding those parts for years.
Finally, in 2281 the NCR responded, they searched the area around Eagle Lake looking for the raiders, finding them and attacking with brute force, outgunned, the most fierce and stubborn raiders fought until death, the surviving raiders retreated, splitting up and disappearing into the wasteland, Warren, now 23, fled to the west.
Warren arrived in the mining town of Redding almost 2 weeks later, still burdened with a wound he’d gotten from the NCR attack; a bullet in his left leg, he’d cleaned it and kept it from bleeding, luckily it didn’t hit any major arteries. When he entered Redding he was watched closely, he’d still had the patchy shaved head of a psycho raider, but had removed most of his clothes and replaced them with a pre-war bed sheet he found in a house while traveling. The doctor told him the bullet would need to be removed and that the skin had healed over it.
It was painful; he cut his leg open and took the bullet out. He gave the doctor a cap bag containing 85 caps, not mentioning the 5 he had left in his pockets, not sure if he’d been tricked into thinking the removal of the bullet was important, he left the doc’s office a few days later. Redding was full of Jet addicts, and had a relatively small police force. He had with him, 5 measly caps, a hunting rifle and 15 .308 rounds. He left town on his own, beginning to travel north.
Warren lived off the land for the next nine years; learning to stay off the road to avoid any bump-ins with raiders, often watching from a distance as caravans were attacked, swooping in afterwards to scavenge the remains. He became somewhat anti-social, traveling north around the I-5 over time, sometimes living in a home for up to 6 months from time to time, only to leave once a problem had risen. Over the years he’d made up new attire; jet black boots, olive pants, dusty black duster, a grey belt, a faded red tie hanging over a bare chest, and a brown pack on his back. His dirty salmon-brown hair loosely hanging down, untamed. He awoke this morning and found a gun to his face, someone sneakier than him; the bandit took what he could and spared his life, leaving him with little. 2290, with patchy facial hair from ear to ear, he wanders towards Seattle.
IGN: nolanwashere
RP Experience: I've been a part of many servers ranging from different genres, including Steampunk and Medieval RP.
Age: 14
Location: St John's, Newfoundland, The North Pole.
Previous Bans: None that I can remember.
IRP:
Name: Calhoun Whiterock
Skills: "sans-serif">He is brisk, and skilled in archery.
Age: 36
Appearance (we would like a picture of your skin as well as description): Calhoun has grey-white wispy hair, cut fairly short, blue-grey eyes, an average build of a man more around ten years younger, good posture. http://gyazo.com/650...3e932aba8a4f0ae
Character Race: Human
Desire/Goal in life: Calhoun desires wealth in abundance and success for himself and the people who wish him well, a team player willing to do what it takes to get what he or the people around him wish.
Background:
Calhoun was born in south-west Korvin, in a fair sized town, where his family was well off, and his father Harrec ran a mining company that supplied the town, “Whiterock Mining Company” it was titled. He was the second eldest of four brothers, his older brother; Kleggen was a lazy and stubborn, but in Harrec’s eyes, a brave and elegant heir, and after his death, monarch of the family. Always being seen second to Kleggen, Calhoun grew up a grumpy child that didn’t show much happiness, His father issuing him with the task to practice archery in hopes he will find interest in something.
The Whiterock Mining Company was the town’s main mineral suppliers, while a nearby company run by a man, Vereth Arric, ran a quarry that supplied the town’s stone. Harrec wanted to expand his company, and began preparations for a quarry. As Vereth imagined the competition to come, he acted; One night, a group of men were seen lurking about the WMC’s administration office, they caught fire to the building, throwing torches in through the windows. Four Whiterock employees were inside, only one escaped alive.
With one of his buildings burned to the ground, along with loyal employees above the basic builders, Harrec wanted to strike back. Calhoun was thirty-one at the time, and had learned how to be an archer very well, his father ordered him to assassinate Vereth. Calhoun and two hired cutthroats set off, five days after the fire, at sundown. They found Vereth in the market (still busy at night), Vereth was followed by two bodyguards, expecting Harrec to have some sort of retaliation. Shadowing him through the market, they arrived at a tavern. Calhoun made his way to a rooftop across the street from the tavern, instructing his two men to cause a distraction. The two cutthroats began fighting in the streets, beating at each other with their fists, as people crowded around, so did Vereth. Calhoun pulled back and released, the arrow flying into Vereth’s chest, he took another shot for good measure, hitting him in the throat as he fell back.
Calhoun turned and ran, escaping from the guards and reaching his father, hoping he would be proud and see that he is a fit heir. This hope was crushed when his father said “Now son, you must leave, they will come looking for someone, someone believable.” Calhoun, disappointed and furious at the fact that his father would sell him out, gladly left.
For the next five years Calhoun lived in the forest, hunting to survive, traveling north over time, stopping into towns for only a few days, but never finding a home there, eventually, he reached Kaeiyr.
Example of Daily Interactions:
-Waking up.
-Looking around, observing the outside if he is near the wilderness.
-Fixing and eating breakfast.
-Leaving the place he stayed, with some sort of protection like a dagger and/or his bow.
-Go to a local shop, to restock on arrows or food, likely avoiding conversation with the shopkeeper.
-Tend to any work or job he may have, if not, trying to find one.
-Stop working, going for a walk in the wilderness, hunting if he feels like it.
-Stopping near a river or waterfall, enjoying the view and relaxing for a while, eating any apples or food he could find that didn’t need to be prepared.
-By nightfall he would be inside the city, likely going to a tavern where he would get something to drink, and sit alone, though being open to conversation if someone were to approach him, he likely won’t go so far as to start one himself.
-Leaving the bar, likely making plans for tomorrow if nothing interesting happened, on his way back to an inn or his home.
-Fixing himself a meal, eating.
-Writing in his book, not keeping a journal, just writing whatever he pleases whether it only makes sense to him, or just a note to self.
-Going to sleep, after a glass of wine if possible.
How did you find us? I’ve been affiliated with Akavir for a long while, ‘was also on SooF.
What Roleplay experience do you have? I’ve been RPing on servers for years now, and I also have an abundant amount of staff experience.
Define Meta-gaming in your words: Meta gaming is when one learns something IRL/OOCly and changes their character’s actions, personality, or location around this information that their character doesn’t know, but the player does. Meta gaming is not telling somebody something OOCly about something IC, using that information that you learn OOCly to alter your character however is.
Define Power-gaming in your words: Power gaming can be recognized as simply not attempting to do something, forcing the fate of another character, roleplaying like you are fighting a punching bag. *he trips his assailant, then punches him two times in the face before running away*. Simply being overpowered; *hacks computer at first attempt, gets all information on computer*
Define God-Modding in your words: (To me, this has always been an aspect of Power-Gaming, definitions may be mixed) God-modding can be recognized as being completely unrealistic, or overpowered, simply being illogical. *jumps off the skyscraper, and lands on the grass; the grass breaks his fall.* *runs up the wall, then jumps over the angry crowd and escapes*
**In Character** Name: Edwin Satan Van-Daele
Nickname: N/A
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Appearance: 6’1 in height, muscly (a soldier’s body), greying hair, fern green eyes, short cut hair, heavy stubble on his face. His arms are strong. He has a bullet wound on his lower back, and another in his upper, right chest. Signs of aging on his face, wrinkles, as shown below. His skin is fair, not that tanned, not pale. His neck is a little thicker than most. He isn't close to balding, but keeps his hair short, and a little blown back, as shown below.
Personality: Edwin is a calm man, usually keeping to himself. A warrior, his personality most likely will determine on his future, not his past, intelligent, he knows how to use all kinds of weapons. Despite his loyalty, he does not live to serve, on his free time he relaxes, or enjoys tobacco; he’s smart enough not to die for his ego. He is a tough, and not easily broken. He doesn’t often panic, when others would. He doesn't try to involve himself socially, when he does he isn't much of a talker, but calmly maintains a hint of politeness. He opposes slavery, abuse, rape, and the likes, but won't charge a group of armed slavers like an idiot if he comes across some. He promotes gun use, because he believes they should be used for self-defence, as the wastes are no place for a pacifist. Won't often talk back to his superiors.
In-game RP example:
Edwin Van-Daele, age 21.
*Edwin walks out of the barracks, quietly sneaking out as his brothers and sisters sleep, heading to the firing range*
*an older man, looking to be 48, wearing recon armor, meets him in the hall, coming from the other side*
*Edwin halts, staring at the man*
*The man stares back, speaking:* "Going somewhere, Edwin?"
"I was going to the firing range, to practice." *he looks to the ground, expecting to be sent back to the barracks.*
"You shouldn't be up so early, it'll take a toll on your skills, not getting enough sleep."
"Yes, father. I just want to keep up the good work." *he rubs his neck*
"I'm proud of you, son... but you haven't got a clue what good work is, wait until this child-like training starts, we will go on missions together, and you will actually be doing good work."
*Edwin smiled, imagining him and his father returning to the brotherhood base after going out on a mission, speaking* "So... can I go to the firing range?"
"No, rest up." *said Daniel, as he turned and walked on down the hall, coughing into his arm as he turned a corner*
*Edwin turned, going back into the barracks, to his bunk, returning to sleep.*
Unfortunately, Daniel succumbed to mesothelioma later that year, dying the next, before the two had a chance to work together.
Background:
Edwin Van-Daele was born into the Brotherhood’s Chicago Chapter, child of Paladin Daniel Van-Daele, and Scribe Elizabeth H. Satan. He was raised as a Brotherhood Squire, and did not get much attention from his parents. His father, Daniel, was a nice man, and only neglected Edwin because his work forced them to drift apart. His mother, Elizabeth, was an anti-social, crooked, strict woman, often only showing care for her husband, but not their child. Eating well; he grew to a height of 5’11 by age twelve, and began training at age fourteen, becoming an Initiate. Social life was bland/non-existent, spending most of his free time sleeping, Edwin studied the armor and weapons the brotherhood used, giving him some skill in repairing them.
Van-Daele became an Apprentice at age seventeen, and remained one until age twenty. At age twenty, Edwin proved himself by having the second best recorded accuracy in his age group, on the firing range. He was then promoted to Junior Knight. Right before Edwin turned twenty-two, his father succumbed to mesothelioma, meaning his recon armor’s asbestos encapsulation was somehow damaged in his past. His mother reacted maturely, continuing to do her job. Van-Daele took up smoking, sad that his father died before he could do much with him, toughening his personality.
He became a Knight at age twenty-four, getting power armor training. Beginning to go on missions. Sent out on a reconnaissance mission, to investigate a nearby possible location of valuable technology, he was attacked by two raiders, getting shot from behind in the lower back with a Lee-Enfield .303, (only wearing recon armor), he managed to fight them off, using his laser rifle, he managed to return to the base before bleeding out, getting immediate medical attention, and surviving. His mother came to visit him, to his surprise. He recovered well, back on his feet before the end of the month.
He spent the next twelve years as a model Knight, likely told he is being held down for a large promotion. Because of his skill, record, and the fact that the brotherhood could not use him as well as they could in a new chapter, he was one of the honored to be chosen people, who were brought along in the squad with the young Elder-to-be Diana Anderson, heading to San Francisco, to start a chapter. (As for adding more things to why they went to San Francisco, that isn't about me, that's about the whole faction's lore, I did however add reasons on why he was picked.)
Taking his power armor off for the night, as the group took shelter under a rocky overhang, one of the Knights watching the wastes while the others slept, hearing a gunshot, Van-Daele woke to see the Knight firing his laser rifle off into the distance, he stood, going to grab his laser rifle, but was shot in the upper right chest, falling onto his back, the Knight kill the raider, and Van-Daele survived the wound, mended by a traveling doctor that his brothers abducted. They continued traveling the next day.
*Powers up vault boy 3000* (UofM gave me permission to start as a member of the brotherhood.)
How did you find us? I’ve been affiliated with Akavir for a long while, ‘was also on SooF.
What Roleplay experience do you have? I’ve been RPing on servers for years now, and I also have an abundant amount of staff experience.
Define Meta-gaming in your words: Meta gaming is when one learns something IRL/OOCly and changes their character’s actions, personality, or location around this information that their character doesn’t know, but the player does. Meta gaming is not telling somebody something OOCly about something IC, using that information that you learn OOCly to alter your character however is.
Define Power-gaming in your words: Power gaming can be recognized as simply not attempting to do something, forcing the fate of another character, roleplaying like you are fighting a punching bag. *he trips his assailant, then punches him two times in the face before running away*. Simply being overpowered; *hacks computer at first attempt, gets all information on computer*
Define God-Modding in your words: (To me, this has always been an aspect of Power-Gaming, definitions may be mixed) God-modding can be recognized as being completely unrealistic, or overpowered, simply being illogical. *jumps off the skyscraper, and lands on the grass; the grass breaks his fall.* *runs up the wall, then jumps over the angry crowd and escapes*
**In Character** Name: Edwin Satan Van-Daele
Nickname: N/A
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Appearance: 6’1 in height, muscly (a soldier’s body), greying hair, signs of aging on his face, fern green eyes, short cut hair, heavy stubble on his face. Battle wounds are spread across his body, scars and bullet wounds from him traveling to San Francisco
Personality: Edwin is a calm man, usually keeping to himself. A warrior, his personality most likely will determine on his future, not his past, intelligent, he knows how to use all kinds of weapons. Despite his loyalty, he does not live to serve, on his free time he relaxes, or enjoys tobacco; he’s smart enough not to die for his ego. He is a tough, and not easily broken. He doesn’t often panic, when others would.
In-game RP example:
Deserts of Nevada, a pack brahmin strolls down the road, the trader guarded by two mercenaries.
-Two raiders come out from rocks on the right and left side of the road, aiming guns at the caravan
-the mercenaries aim their assault rifles back.-*
The raider to the right twitching, aiming a pistol at the group* he says “Come on, you know the drill, give us your stuff, and we’ll let you run off.”
The trader looks between the mercenaries and raiders, his hands up, “Here, let me get the stuff, don’t shoot each other.” *Turning around, walking to the brahmin.*
“That won’t be necessary, get to cover.” Says one of the mercenaries.
The trader halted, tensions increased as the trader looked over to the raiders
-the mercenary gritted his teeth, and held the rifle tight.
-The trader hid behind the brahmin, as he heard the bullets fly, the brahmin falling on him as it is killed by a stray bullet.
-The trader pushing the brahmin off of him, a minute after the firing stops, looking around as the dust clears, he saw the dead mercenaries to his side, ahead a raider in the middle of the road, bleeding out from a bullet wound to his stomach.
-The trader walking over, slowly, looking down to meet the man’s eyes.
-The raider raised his pistol, shooting a bullet at the trader's head.
-The trader is shot in the forehead, killed instantly, falling back.
-The raider died slowly, bleeding out, surrounded by death.
Background:(Lacking compared to my other character’s backstories, as his past was somewhat simple)
Edwin Van-Daele was born into the Brotherhood’s Chicago Chapter, child of Paladin Daniel Van-Daele, and Scribe Elizabeth H. Satan. He was raised as a Brotherhood Squire, and did not get much attention from his parents, eating well; he grew to a height of 5’11 by age twelve, and began training at age fourteen, becoming an Initiate. Social life was bland/non-existent, spending most of his free time sleeping, Edwin studied the armor and weapons the brotherhood used, giving him some skill in repairing them.
Van-Daele became an Apprentice at age seventeen, and remained one until age twenty. At age twenty, Edwin proved himself by having the second best recorded accuracy in his age group, on the firing range. He was then promoted to Junior Knight. His father succumbed to mesothelioma, meaning his recon armor’s asbestos encapsulation was somehow damaged in his past. His mother reacted maturely, continuing to do her job. Van-Daele took up smoking, sad that his father died before he could do much with him, toughening his personality.
He became a Knight at age twenty-four, getting power armor training. Beginning to go on missions. Sent out on a reconnaissance mission, to investigate a nearby possible location of valuable technology, he was attacked by two raiders, getting shot from behind in the lower back with a Lee-Enfield .303, (only wearing recon armor), he managed to fight them off, using his laser rifle, he managed to return to the base before bleeding out, getting immediate medical attention, and surviving. His mother came to visit him, to his surprise. He recovered well, back on his feet before the end of the month.
He spent the next twelve years as a model Knight, likely told he is being held down for a large promotion. Because of his skill, record, and the fact that the brotherhood could not use him as well as they could in a new chapter, he was one of the honored to be chosen people, who were brought along in the squad with the young Elder-to-be Diana Anderson, heading to San Francisco, to start a chapter. (As for adding more things to why they went to San Francisco, that isn't about me, that's about the whole faction's lore, I did however add reasons on why he was picked.)
*Powers up vault boy 3000* (UofM gave me permission to start as a member of the brotherhood.)
Hey Nolan, nice to see you again. Now, let's take a peek at this application....
-RP example. Though this is good, it seems to relate more to a story then an example of how you would roleplay in game. I mean something similar to taking turns, attempting actions and some dialogue thrown in.
-Backstory. This could use some expanding. It seems to be lacking details about his life. If you need ideas, I'm sure you could go into a slight bit more detail about why he was heading to San Francisco and how he reacted to his fathers death.
Edited, though it should be noted the RP example is RPed from the view of the trader, so most RP-like and non-story like actions are involved with him, nevertheless most of the RP example portrays RP now. Good to see you again, 'swell.
How did you find us? I’ve been affiliated with Akavir for a long while, ‘was also on SooF.
What Roleplay experience do you have? I’ve been RPing on servers for years now, and I also have an abundant amount of staff experience.
Define Meta-gaming in your words: Meta gaming is when one learns something IRL/OOCly and changes their character’s actions, personality, or location around this information that their character doesn’t know, but the player does. Meta gaming is not telling somebody something OOCly about something IC, using that information that you learn OOCly to alter your character however is.
Define Power-gaming in your words: Power gaming can be recognized as simply not attempting to do something, forcing the fate of another character, roleplaying like you are fighting a punching bag. *he trips his assailant, then punches him two times in the face before running away*. Simply being overpowered; *hacks computer at first attempt, gets all information on computer*
Define God-Modding in your words: (To me, this has always been an aspect of Power-Gaming, definitions may be mixed) God-modding can be recognized as being completely unrealistic, or overpowered, simply being illogical. *jumps off the skyscraper, and lands on the grass; the grass breaks his fall.* *runs up the wall, then jumps over the angry crowd and escapes*
**In Character** Name: Edwin Satan Van-Daele
Nickname: N/A
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Appearance: 6’1 in height, muscly (a soldier’s body), greying hair, signs of aging on his face, fern green eyes, short cut hair, heavy stubble on his face. Battle wounds are spread across his body, scars and bullet wounds from him traveling to San Francisco
Personality: A warrior, his personality most likely will determine on his future, not his past, intelligent, he knows how to use all kinds of weapons. Despite his loyalty, he does not live to serve, on his free time he relaxes, or enjoys tobacco; he’s smart enough not to die for his ego. He is a tough man, not easily broken. He doesn’t often panic, when others would.
In-game RP example:
Deserts of Nevada, a pack brahmin strolls down the road, the trader guarded by two mercenaries.
-Two raiders come out from rocks on the right and left side of the road, aiming guns at the caravan
-the mercenaries aim their assault rifles back.-*
The raider to the right twitching, aiming a pistol at the group* he says “Come on, you know the drill, give us your stuff, and we’ll let you run off.”
The trader looks between the mercenaries and raiders, his hands up, “Here, let me get the stuff, don’t shoot each other.” *Turning around, walking to the brahmin.*
“That won’t be necessary, get to cover.” Says one of the mercenaries.
The trader halted, tensions increased as the trader looked over to the raiders
-the mercenary gritted his teeth, and held the rifle tight.
-The trader hid behind the brahmin, as he heard the bullets fly, the brahmin falling on him as it is killed by a stray bullet.
-The trader pushing the brahmin off of him, a minute after the firing stops, looking around as the dust clears, he saw the dead mercenaries to his side, ahead a raider in the middle of the road, bleeding out from a bullet wound to his stomach.
-The trader walking over, slowly, looking down to meet the man’s eyes.
-The raider raised his pistol, shooting a bullet at the trader's head.
-The trader is shot in the forehead, killed instantly, falling back.
-The raider died slowly, bleeding out, surrounded by death.
Background:(Lacking compared to my other character’s backstories, as his past was somewhat simple)
Edwin Van-Daele was born into the Brotherhood’s Chicago Chapter, child of Paladin Daniel Van-Daele, and Scribe Elizabeth H. Satan. He was raised as a Brotherhood Squire, and did not get much attention from his parents, eating well; he grew to a height of 5’11 by age twelve, and began training at age fourteen, becoming an Initiate. Social life was bland/non-existent, spending most of his free time sleeping, Edwin studied the armor and weapons the brotherhood used, giving him some skill in repairing them.
Van-Daele became an Apprentice at age seventeen, and remained one until age twenty. At age twenty, Edwin proved himself by having the second best recorded accuracy in his age group, on the firing range. He was then promoted to Junior Knight. His father succumbed to mesothelioma, meaning his recon armor’s asbestos encapsulation was somehow damaged in his past. His mother reacted maturely, continuing to do her job. Van-Daele took up smoking, sad that his father died before he could do much with him, toughening his personality.
He became a Knight at age twenty-four, getting power armor training. Beginning to go on missions. Sent out on a reconnaissance mission, to investigate a nearby possible location of valuable technology, he was attacked by two raiders, getting shot from behind in the lower back with a Lee-Enfield .303, (only wearing recon armor), he managed to fight them off, using his laser rifle, he managed to return to the base before bleeding out, getting immediate medical attention, and surviving. His mother came to visit him, to his surprise. He recovered well, back on his feet before the end of the month.
He spent the next twelve years as a model Knight, likely told he is being held down for a large promotion. Because of his skill, record, and the fact that the brotherhood could not use him as well as they could in a new chapter, he was one of the honored to be chosen people, who were brought along in the squad with the young Elder-to-be Diana Anderson, heading to San Francisco, to start a chapter. (As for adding more things to why they went to San Francisco, that isn't about me, that's about the whole faction's lore, I did however add reasons on why he was picked.)
*Powers up vault boy 3000* (UofM gave me permission to start as a member of the brotherhood.)
Accepted, as long as you agree and understand that you can't have purple eyes, it's not human. In real life, they are extremely rare, and half the people who look at it would call it a purple tinted indigo-grey, it is impossible to have deep purple, or even medium purple eyes.
Gear/weapons: An iron wrench (An iron hoe, since I'm using LAST DAYS texture pack).
Your character's life didn't start with the prison breakout, write about his life before, also you'll be using the server's texture pack when on the server, because it's the server's texture pack.
Character back-story (At least 3 paragraphs with no assuming faction roles):
Your backstory should still be expanded more, it's hard to follow and should have more needed information, less irrelevant information. There also isn't a recently collapsed tower in our Denver map, because there's no reason it would survive bombing and collapse now randomly.
Until your app (mainly your backstory) is improved, you are still denied.
RP example (At least 2 paragraphs): I don't know what to do here as I've never been on an RP server, but I'll try...
Ray "Yeah, well..." Reaches into his pack. "I don't want to... ugh... to... um... I got nothing. Just stop this, please."
Raider: "Oh, tough guy, huh? Well I won't stand for this!" Aims his weapon at Ray. Ray pulls out his Mother's Lucky Revolver and quickly injures the Raider with a shot to the leg. The other Raiders ready themselves for battle, but Ray quickly attacks them, but doesn't kill them. One last Raider, who was hiding behind his brahmin, takes aim at Ray. Ray, who is out of ammo, runs up to him, taking a shot to the leg, and chops off his arm with his rusty knife
I'd like it if the RP example was less far-fetched, but it's nothing holding the app back I suppose.
Accepted
1
Hey there Spawn, I worked with Benn on this and we've a few things we want to address.
-Concerning the backstory of the character, overall the concept of it is perfectly fine. We were a bit disappointed to see that the tribe the character was from wasn’t named. But we liked the concept of it, though we believe a few things worthy of change would be how the inhabitants of this tribe became generally larger and stronger than most normal people; as saying it was because of a, “harsh upbringing” doesn’t entirely explain much of anything. Instead we feel it would be better if it was because of incest, radiation, cannibalism, or a combination of these things.
As well as the unnecessary harshness of his childhood. While perfectly fine to have a character who was beaten by his parents or had some sort of rough upbringing, we feel it better if there was some sort of explanation as to ‘why’ this happened. Rather than just having a rough upbringing simply because it makes him more ‘deep’.
-His high pain tolerance "flaw" is hardly a flaw at all, your example of his pain tolerance worries me as it implies he's so resilient to pain that he would not notice an arrow in his back, which is simply unrealistic and overpowered.
-Requested equipment and character's current status in Coahuiltecan; in the final paragraph of of your backstory you state that he is slightly more than a slave, has he earned their trust as a warrior(implied by his weaponry) in only a few years, how did he rise among the other slaves with a quick temper and hate for his captors(who aren't really in desperate need for better warriors)? I appreciate the attempt at diversity, but if you want him to be a slave turned warrior you should rethink how you play this character, his personality and explain in his backstory how he worked his way up, however I strongly recommend you just start as a slave, get a feel for how the character works before deciding how he acts, this will also be much easier to explain in backstory
-We've tried to hold back on nitpicking at things that don't necessarily need to be addressed, but the following is noteworthy:
His hatred for the Coahuiltecan and plan to work his way up the ranks either for a chance at revenge or just to survive conflict with his personality "tends to get ticked off easily and/or prefers a more brawn over brains" "doesn't aspire to any sort of greater goal" "tendency to lash out at others who tick him off in any sort of matter" looking past the personality conflict, if I focus on his personality he seems like a recipe for disaster as a Coahuiltecan slave, however you seem to describe him being beaten into obedience. I feel like when you wrote his personality you weren't describing his current state, does he obey them while hating them and therefore no longer quick-tempered and brutish? Again this isn't a horrible issue but we'd like some clarification.
As of right now you are Denied
You have 2 more tries, we look forward to hearing from you again if you have any questions you have our skypes.
0
OOC:
IGN: FrothedMilk
Age (Optional): 15
Skype name (Optional for the group chat/faction chats):
Time Zone: NDT
Prior Bans and reasons: Most Recently- Trolling/Being Silly – Because I was very bored and tried to fix that in a very stupid way.
Define Role-play: Acting, immersing yourself into a world as a character and having that character act just as a real person would in a real world(Fear death even though you know in real life you can just respawn, have their ears hurt from a loud noise even though you in your computer chair just had to turn the volume down a bit are examples of Role-Playing while using a video game as a platform.)
Define Powergaming: Forcing an action and a reaction to occur in Role-Play, (*fires rifle and kills assailaint instantly* as opposed to *fires the rifle aimed at his opponent*)Even if the outcome you state is likely, it is not your job to roleplay the reaction to your action, that is the other player’s responsibility. You could also associate Powergaming with simply being ridiculously overpowered like surviving something that you couldn’t possibly survive.
Define Metagaming: Having your character know what you know – using OOC information IC.
Previous roleplay experience: I’ve played on servers like these before but not in a while, I’d bet my money that I’m really rusty right now which is why I want to get back into it.
Previous Fallout experience: The first game I played was Fallout 3, I had really fell in love with the lore and the wiki by Fallout: New Vegas, many of the RP servers I’ve played on have been Fallout-themed.
Have you read the rules?: Yes
Write any further questions here:
There is no escaping the shadows of the old world.
IC:
Character Name: Frederic Withers
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Race: Caucasoid/White
Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): 5ft and 11 inches in height, at the top of his thin body; a gaunt neck holding up a head of greasy black hair. He has restless blue eyes with bags under them divided by a thin nose. He has dirt, inflamed areas and scabs covering parts of his body.
http://i.imgur.com/ktbNdbN.png
Strengths: Experienced in repairing makeshift armors and scrap shacks. Knows how to operate most small guns and rifles, but doesn’t have the best long range aim making him best with personal defense weapons.
Weaknesses: Fred has lived his life suffering from vitamin deficiency, giving him weak bones that hurt easily if he puts too much pressure on his legs, making running more taxing, this combined with little muscle makes him an awful candidate for melee combat. He has lost some patches of skin from radiation poisoning, and is prone to vomiting from his radiation sickness. His appearance makes him look like he is addicted to the worst of chems, but fact is he’s just disease-ridden.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L. (Like in the games, you have 40 points to allocate. You must have at least one point in each, and cannot have more than ten.):
Strength: 3
Perception: 5
Endurance: 3
Charisma: 6
Intelligence: 7
Agility: 8
Luck: 8
Character Biography (Please include at least two quality paragraphs):
Fred was born in early 2248 south of the ruins of Ottawa, Canada. His mother was the leader of a group of traveling wasters. But Fred’s first memories were of a town that he grew up in, a collection of people holding their own against the wastes in the ruins of Watertown, USA. He spent his youth working on maintaining and creating shacks composed of scrap metal in the settlement with his mother. By age twenty, he’d learned how to use more basic forging tools like the blowtorch and developed a hobby of repairing traveler’s armor in exchange for supplies.
When his mother passed from unidentified disease in 2274, Fred left the now poverty-stricken town and headed north-east, taking his belongings with him and partnering with a tougher, more experienced local named Merrick. Fred and Merrick traveled the wastes, Fred handled the sales and Merrick was responsible for security. In 2275 the two repaired ancient gladiator masks for an ice-gang and helped them navigate their way through the black river.
After a year of dodging raiders and arduous haggling, the two had gained another guard, and a pack Brahmin. They considered themselves wealthy enough to cash in for a bit, and look at a more permanent home and business. The two returned to Watertown in late 2275, finding a shell of what used to be considered sanctuary from the horrors of the wasteland. Fred and Merrick bickered about whether they should stay there for the night. Fred assured him that his home town wouldn’t cross him, and so the two rested in the town for the night, exchanging food for shelter. When Fred awoke, he found his partner gone, exiting the bunkhouse to see his pack Brahmin and guard gone as well. He asked the gate guard what happened, and was told that his caravan guard had stolen the Brahmin with some locals, and that his partner left looking for them.
Fred waited a week, getting back in touch with some childhood friends, but many of the people he’d knew had left. He helped the town ward off a small raider attack, somewhat regretting leaving his home town in its time of need almost two years ago. Growing impatient, Fred left the settlement and searched the ruins of Watertown, after a few hours he stumbled upon the body of the traitorous caravan guard, and a local from the settlement, bloody craters in their chests from a shotgun, but no sign of the Brahmin, or Merrick. Fred searched until dark, returning to the town, confused. He was unsure whether he’d been conned by his business partner for all he was worth, or got a close friend killed by making a bad call.
Fred rejoined the settlement and lived there for most of 2276, he tried to help the settlement out by trading with travelers, but sometimes the greedy merchant side of him outshined the good; and he would stash food for himself in case he needed to leave. Over the year the raider attacks became worse, caravans stopped coming to the settlement despite the attraction Fred tried to create. Many left the settlement, less than a dozen wasters remained. One day, a band of slavers rolled into town, and took the young, killing those who fought back and leaving the old. Fred fled the settlement without getting to his supplies, knowing being a hero would only get him killed.
Now in 2277, Fred wanders the wastes trying to find a new town, living off the land and trading with those he deems safe to approach.
Roleplay Scenario: Time: 3:18 P.M. Location: 14 miles South of Niagara
As you're walking north along a desolate highway when you spot two large black birds circling in the sky in the distance. To the east, large thunderheads loom on the horizon. Hopeful to avoid the storm, you begin to walk a bit more briskly; scanning the area to find shelter from the radioactive downpour. You observe a small light grey smoke plume coming from the median of the highway only a couple hundred meters away. Before approaching the scene, you take a quick look in your bag (below is a list of your items). As you approach the scene, you can see that it is a Merchant Caravan that has been hit, likely by raiders. The merchant lies bloody and beaten to death near a slaughtered Brahman, blood covers his clothing and a box of items is scattered near him. Of the two guards, one lies near a jersey barrier; empty shell casings from her caravan shotgun scattered around her corpse. The other guard is struggling to pull himself upright using the one of the carts wheels, his left leg had been blown off below the shin and is now nothing but a bloody mix of singed skin and asphalt.
Bag contents:
1x 10mm Pistol
4x 10mm Pistol rounds
1x bottle of dirty water
2x Mentants
1x Salisbury steak
1x Squirrel on a stick
1x small radio (functional)
1x Stimpak
1x Half-used first aid kit (missing supplies)
What do you do?:
Fred approaches the surviving guard, kneeling down and helping the guard sit against the cart instead of foolishly trying to walk. “Where were you headed?” “The Falls, to the north” Replies the guard, stumbling over his own words. Fred takes off his belt and goes to wrap it above the Guard’s stump “I think you’re supposed to put pressure on it or something.” “Help me, please.” Says the guard, grabbing Fred’s arm, breathing heavily. “Your foot is pretty mezzed, man. Your caravan did they come from anywhere near here?” “Help me, please you’ve got to.” Fred sighs, standing up and looking down at the miserable man, then looking to the eastern skies. Fred opens his bag, looking at the little pistol rounds he had left, hesitantly closing the bag. “There’s nothing I can do.” Fred said, frowning and turning to search the caravan as the man whaled, but the good were picked clean by attackers. Fred walked off the road and to the north-west, hoping to avoid whoever attacked the caravan, escape the storm, and find shelter. The black birds still looming over the sacked caravan.
OOC:
IGN: FrothedMilk
Age (Optional): 15
Skype name (Optional for the group chat/faction chats):
Time Zone: NDT
Prior Bans and reasons: Most Recently- Trolling/Being Silly – Because I was very bored and tried to fix that in a very stupid way.
Define Role-play: Acting, immersing yourself into a world as a character and having that character act just as a real person would in a real world(Fear death even though you know in real life you can just respawn, have their ears hurt from a loud noise even though you in your computer chair just had to turn the volume down a bit are examples of Role-Playing while using a video game as a platform.)
Define Powergaming: Forcing an action and a reaction to occur in Role-Play, (*fires rifle and kills assailaint instantly* as opposed to *fires the rifle aimed at his opponent*)Even if the outcome you state is likely, it is not your job to roleplay the reaction to your action, that is the other player’s responsibility. You could also associate Powergaming with simply being ridiculously overpowered like surviving something that you couldn’t possibly survive.
Define Metagaming: Having your character know what you know – using OOC information IC.
Previous roleplay experience: I’ve played on servers like these before but not in a while, I’d bet my money that I’m really rusty right now which is why I want to get back into it.
Previous Fallout experience: The first game I played was Fallout 3, I had really fell in love with the lore and the wiki by Fallout: New Vegas, many of the RP servers I’ve played on have been Fallout-themed.
Have you read the rules?: Yes
Write any further questions here:
There is no escaping the shadows of the old world.
IC:
Character Name: Frederic Withers
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Race: Caucasoid/White
Appearance (Please include an in-game screenshot of your skin): 5ft and 11 inches in height, at the top of his thin body; a gaunt neck holding up a head of greasy black hair. He has restless blue eyes with bags under them divided by a thin nose. He has dirt, inflamed areas and scabs covering parts of his body.
http://i.imgur.com/ktbNdbN.png
Strengths: Experienced in repairing makeshift armors and scrap shacks. Knows how to operate most small guns and rifles, but doesn’t have the best long range aim making him best with personal defense weapons.
Weaknesses: Fred has lived his life suffering from vitamin deficiency, giving him weak bones that hurt easily if he puts too much pressure on his legs, making running more taxing, this combined with little muscle makes him an awful candidate for melee combat. He has lost some patches of skin from radiation poisoning, and is prone to vomiting from his radiation sickness. His appearance makes him look like he is addicted to the worst of chems, but fact is he’s just disease-ridden.
S.P.E.C.I.A.L. (Like in the games, you have 40 points to allocate. You must have at least one point in each, and cannot have more than ten.):
Strength: 3
Perception: 5
Endurance: 3
Charisma: 6
Intelligence: 7
Agility: 8
Luck: 8
Character Biography (Please include at least two quality paragraphs):
Fred was born in early 2248 south of the ruins of Ottawa, Canada. His mother was the leader of a group of traveling wasters. But Fred’s first memories were of a town that he grew up in, a collection of people holding their own against the wastes in the ruins of Watertown, USA. He spent his youth working on maintaining and creating shacks composed of scrap metal in the settlement with his mother. By age twenty, he’d learned how to use more basic forging tools like the blowtorch and developed a hobby of repairing traveler’s armor in exchange for supplies.
When his mother passed from unidentified disease in 2274, Fred left the now poverty-stricken town and headed north-east, taking his belongings with him and partnering with a tougher, more experienced local named Merrick. Fred and Merrick traveled the wastes, Fred handled the sales and Merrick was responsible for security. In 2275 the two repaired ancient gladiator masks for an ice-gang and helped them navigate their way through the black river.
After a year of dodging raiders and arduous haggling, the two had gained another guard, and a pack Brahmin. They considered themselves wealthy enough to cash in for a bit, and look at a more permanent home and business. The two returned to Watertown in late 2275, finding a shell of what used to be considered sanctuary from the horrors of the wasteland. Fred and Merrick bickered about whether they should stay there for the night. Fred assured him that his home town wouldn’t cross him, and so the two rested in the town for the night, exchanging food for shelter. When Fred awoke, he found his partner gone, exiting the bunkhouse to see his pack Brahmin and guard gone as well. He asked the gate guard what happened, and was told that his caravan guard had stolen the Brahmin with some locals, and that his partner left looking for them.
Fred waited a week, getting back in touch with some childhood friends, but many of the people he’d knew had left. He helped the town ward off a small raider attack, somewhat regretting leaving his home town in its time of need almost two years ago. Growing impatient, Fred left the settlement and searched the ruins of Watertown, after a few hours he stumbled upon the body of the traitorous caravan guard, and a local from the settlement, bloody craters in their chests from a shotgun, but no sign of the Brahmin, or Merrick. Fred searched until dark, returning to the town, confused. He was unsure whether he’d been conned by his business partner for all he was worth, or got a close friend killed by making a bad call.
Fred rejoined the settlement and lived there for most of 2276, he tried to help the settlement out by trading with travelers, but sometimes the greedy merchant side of him outshined the good; and he would stash food for himself in case he needed to leave. Over the year the raider attacks became worse, caravans stopped coming to the settlement despite the attraction Fred tried to create. Many left the settlement, less than a dozen wasters remained. One day, a band of slavers rolled into town, and took the young, killing those who fought back and leaving the old. Fred fled the settlement without getting to his supplies, knowing being a hero would only get him killed.
Now in 2277, Fred wanders the wastes trying to find a new town, living off the land and trading with those he deems safe to approach.
Roleplay Scenario: Time: 3:18 P.M. Location: 14 miles South of Niagara
As you're walking north along a desolate highway when you spot two large black birds circling in the sky in the distance. To the east, large thunderheads loom on the horizon. Hopeful to avoid the storm, you begin to walk a bit more briskly; scanning the area to find shelter from the radioactive downpour. You observe a small light grey smoke plume coming from the median of the highway only a couple hundred meters away. Before approaching the scene, you take a quick look in your bag (below is a list of your items). As you approach the scene, you can see that it is a Merchant Caravan that has been hit, likely by raiders. The merchant lies bloody and beaten to death near a slaughtered Brahman, blood covers his clothing and a box of items is scattered near him. Of the two guards, one lies near a jersey barrier; empty shell casings from her caravan shotgun scattered around her corpse. The other guard is struggling to pull himself upright using the one of the carts wheels, his left leg had been blown off below the shin and is now nothing but a bloody mix of singed skin and asphalt.
Bag contents:
1x 10mm Pistol
4x 10mm Pistol rounds
1x bottle of dirty water
2x Mentants
1x Salisbury steak
1x Squirrel on a stick
1x small radio (functional)
1x Stimpak
1x Half-used first aid kit (missing supplies)
What do you do?:
Fred approaches the surviving guard, kneeling down and helping the guard sit against the cart instead of foolishly trying to walk. “Where were you headed?” “The Falls, to the north” Replies the guard, stumbling over his own words. Fred takes off his belt and goes to wrap it above the Guard’s stump “I think you’re supposed to put pressure on it or something.” “Help me, please.” Says the guard, grabbing Fred’s arm, breathing heavily. “Your foot is pretty mezzed, man. Your caravan did they come from anywhere near here?” “Help me, please you’ve got to.” Fred sighs, standing up and looking down at the miserable man, then looking to the eastern skies. Fred opens his bag, looking at the little pistol rounds he had left, hesitantly closing the bag. “There’s nothing I can do.” Fred said, frowning and turning to search the caravan as the man whaled, but the good were picked clean by attackers. Fred walked off the road and to the north-west, hoping to avoid whoever attacked the caravan, escape the storm, and find shelter. The black birds still looming over the sacked caravan.
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OOC:
IGN: nolanwashere
RP Experience: I've been a part of many servers ranging from different genres, including Steampunk and Medieval RP.
Age: 14
Location: St John's, Newfoundland, The North Pole.
Previous Bans: None that I can remember.
IRP:
Name: Calhoun Whiterock
Skills: "sans-serif">He is brisk, and skilled in archery.
Age: 36
Appearance (we would like a picture of your skin as well as description): Calhoun has grey-white wispy hair, cut fairly short, blue-grey eyes, an average build of a man more around ten years younger, good posture.
http://gyazo.com/650...3e932aba8a4f0ae
Character Race: Human
Desire/Goal in life: Calhoun desires wealth in abundance and success for himself and the people who wish him well, a team player willing to do what it takes to get what he or the people around him wish.
Background:
Calhoun was born in south-west Korvin, in a fair sized town, where his family was well off, and his father Harrec ran a mining company that supplied the town, “Whiterock Mining Company” it was titled. He was the second eldest of four brothers, his older brother; Kleggen was a lazy and stubborn, but in Harrec’s eyes, a brave and elegant heir, and after his death, monarch of the family. Always being seen second to Kleggen, Calhoun grew up a grumpy child that didn’t show much happiness, His father issuing him with the task to practice archery in hopes he will find interest in something.
The Whiterock Mining Company was the town’s main mineral suppliers, while a nearby company run by a man, Vereth Arric, ran a quarry that supplied the town’s stone. Harrec wanted to expand his company, and began preparations for a quarry. As Vereth imagined the competition to come, he acted; One night, a group of men were seen lurking about the WMC’s administration office, they caught fire to the building, throwing torches in through the windows. Four Whiterock employees were inside, only one escaped alive.
With one of his buildings burned to the ground, along with loyal employees above the basic builders, Harrec wanted to strike back. Calhoun was thirty-one at the time, and had learned how to be an archer very well, his father ordered him to assassinate Vereth. Calhoun and two hired cutthroats set off, five days after the fire, at sundown. They found Vereth in the market (still busy at night), Vereth was followed by two bodyguards, expecting Harrec to have some sort of retaliation. Shadowing him through the market, they arrived at a tavern. Calhoun made his way to a rooftop across the street from the tavern, instructing his two men to cause a distraction. The two cutthroats began fighting in the streets, beating at each other with their fists, as people crowded around, so did Vereth. Calhoun pulled back and released, the arrow flying into Vereth’s chest, he took another shot for good measure, hitting him in the throat as he fell back.
Calhoun turned and ran, escaping from the guards and reaching his father, hoping he would be proud and see that he is a fit heir. This hope was crushed when his father said “Now son, you must leave, they will come looking for someone, someone believable.” Calhoun, disappointed and furious at the fact that his father would sell him out, gladly left.
For the next five years Calhoun lived in the forest, hunting to survive, traveling north over time, stopping into towns for only a few days, but never finding a home there, eventually, he reached Kaeiyr.
Example of Daily Interactions:
-Waking up.
-Looking around, observing the outside if he is near the wilderness.
-Fixing and eating breakfast.
-Leaving the place he stayed, with some sort of protection like a dagger and/or his bow.
-Go to a local shop, to restock on arrows or food, likely avoiding conversation with the shopkeeper.
-Tend to any work or job he may have, if not, trying to find one.
-Stop working, going for a walk in the wilderness, hunting if he feels like it.
-Stopping near a river or waterfall, enjoying the view and relaxing for a while, eating any apples or food he could find that didn’t need to be prepared.
-By nightfall he would be inside the city, likely going to a tavern where he would get something to drink, and sit alone, though being open to conversation if someone were to approach him, he likely won’t go so far as to start one himself.
-Leaving the bar, likely making plans for tomorrow if nothing interesting happened, on his way back to an inn or his home.
-Fixing himself a meal, eating.
-Writing in his book, not keeping a journal, just writing whatever he pleases whether it only makes sense to him, or just a note to self.
-Going to sleep, after a glass of wine if possible.
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**Out of Character**
IGN: nolanwashere
Age: 14
How did you find us? I’ve been affiliated with Akavir for a long while, ‘was also on SooF.
What Roleplay experience do you have? I’ve been RPing on servers for years now, and I also have an abundant amount of staff experience.
Define Meta-gaming in your words: Meta gaming is when one learns something IRL/OOCly and changes their character’s actions, personality, or location around this information that their character doesn’t know, but the player does. Meta gaming is not telling somebody something OOCly about something IC, using that information that you learn OOCly to alter your character however is.
Define Power-gaming in your words: Power gaming can be recognized as simply not attempting to do something, forcing the fate of another character, roleplaying like you are fighting a punching bag. *he trips his assailant, then punches him two times in the face before running away*. Simply being overpowered; *hacks computer at first attempt, gets all information on computer*
Define God-Modding in your words: (To me, this has always been an aspect of Power-Gaming, definitions may be mixed) God-modding can be recognized as being completely unrealistic, or overpowered, simply being illogical. *jumps off the skyscraper, and lands on the grass; the grass breaks his fall.* *runs up the wall, then jumps over the angry crowd and escapes*
**In Character**
Name: Edwin Satan Van-Daele
Nickname: N/A
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Appearance: 6’1 in height, muscly (a soldier’s body), greying hair, fern green eyes, short cut hair, heavy stubble on his face. His arms are strong. He has a bullet wound on his lower back, and another in his upper, right chest. Signs of aging on his face, wrinkles, as shown below. His skin is fair, not that tanned, not pale. His neck is a little thicker than most. He isn't close to balding, but keeps his hair short, and a little blown back, as shown below.
Personality: Edwin is a calm man, usually keeping to himself. A warrior, his personality most likely will determine on his future, not his past, intelligent, he knows how to use all kinds of weapons. Despite his loyalty, he does not live to serve, on his free time he relaxes, or enjoys tobacco; he’s smart enough not to die for his ego. He is a tough, and not easily broken. He doesn’t often panic, when others would. He doesn't try to involve himself socially, when he does he isn't much of a talker, but calmly maintains a hint of politeness. He opposes slavery, abuse, rape, and the likes, but won't charge a group of armed slavers like an idiot if he comes across some. He promotes gun use, because he believes they should be used for self-defence, as the wastes are no place for a pacifist. Won't often talk back to his superiors.
In-game RP example:
Edwin Van-Daele, age 21.
*Edwin walks out of the barracks, quietly sneaking out as his brothers and sisters sleep, heading to the firing range*
*an older man, looking to be 48, wearing recon armor, meets him in the hall, coming from the other side*
*Edwin halts, staring at the man*
*The man stares back, speaking:* "Going somewhere, Edwin?"
"I was going to the firing range, to practice." *he looks to the ground, expecting to be sent back to the barracks.*
"You shouldn't be up so early, it'll take a toll on your skills, not getting enough sleep."
"Yes, father. I just want to keep up the good work." *he rubs his neck*
"I'm proud of you, son... but you haven't got a clue what good work is, wait until this child-like training starts, we will go on missions together, and you will actually be doing good work."
*Edwin smiled, imagining him and his father returning to the brotherhood base after going out on a mission, speaking* "So... can I go to the firing range?"
"No, rest up." *said Daniel, as he turned and walked on down the hall, coughing into his arm as he turned a corner*
*Edwin turned, going back into the barracks, to his bunk, returning to sleep.*
Unfortunately, Daniel succumbed to mesothelioma later that year, dying the next, before the two had a chance to work together.
Background:
Edwin Van-Daele was born into the Brotherhood’s Chicago Chapter, child of Paladin Daniel Van-Daele, and Scribe Elizabeth H. Satan. He was raised as a Brotherhood Squire, and did not get much attention from his parents. His father, Daniel, was a nice man, and only neglected Edwin because his work forced them to drift apart. His mother, Elizabeth, was an anti-social, crooked, strict woman, often only showing care for her husband, but not their child. Eating well; he grew to a height of 5’11 by age twelve, and began training at age fourteen, becoming an Initiate. Social life was bland/non-existent, spending most of his free time sleeping, Edwin studied the armor and weapons the brotherhood used, giving him some skill in repairing them.
Van-Daele became an Apprentice at age seventeen, and remained one until age twenty. At age twenty, Edwin proved himself by having the second best recorded accuracy in his age group, on the firing range. He was then promoted to Junior Knight. Right before Edwin turned twenty-two, his father succumbed to mesothelioma, meaning his recon armor’s asbestos encapsulation was somehow damaged in his past. His mother reacted maturely, continuing to do her job. Van-Daele took up smoking, sad that his father died before he could do much with him, toughening his personality.
He became a Knight at age twenty-four, getting power armor training. Beginning to go on missions. Sent out on a reconnaissance mission, to investigate a nearby possible location of valuable technology, he was attacked by two raiders, getting shot from behind in the lower back with a Lee-Enfield .303, (only wearing recon armor), he managed to fight them off, using his laser rifle, he managed to return to the base before bleeding out, getting immediate medical attention, and surviving. His mother came to visit him, to his surprise. He recovered well, back on his feet before the end of the month.
He spent the next twelve years as a model Knight, likely told he is being held down for a large promotion. Because of his skill, record, and the fact that the brotherhood could not use him as well as they could in a new chapter, he was one of the honored to be chosen people, who were brought along in the squad with the young Elder-to-be Diana Anderson, heading to San Francisco, to start a chapter. (As for adding more things to why they went to San Francisco, that isn't about me, that's about the whole faction's lore, I did however add reasons on why he was picked.)
Taking his power armor off for the night, as the group took shelter under a rocky overhang, one of the Knights watching the wastes while the others slept, hearing a gunshot, Van-Daele woke to see the Knight firing his laser rifle off into the distance, he stood, going to grab his laser rifle, but was shot in the upper right chest, falling onto his back, the Knight kill the raider, and Van-Daele survived the wound, mended by a traveling doctor that his brothers abducted. They continued traveling the next day.
*Powers up vault boy 3000*
(UofM gave me permission to start as a member of the brotherhood.)
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**Out of Character**
IGN: nolanwashere
Age: 14
How did you find us? I’ve been affiliated with Akavir for a long while, ‘was also on SooF.
What Roleplay experience do you have? I’ve been RPing on servers for years now, and I also have an abundant amount of staff experience.
Define Meta-gaming in your words: Meta gaming is when one learns something IRL/OOCly and changes their character’s actions, personality, or location around this information that their character doesn’t know, but the player does. Meta gaming is not telling somebody something OOCly about something IC, using that information that you learn OOCly to alter your character however is.
Define Power-gaming in your words: Power gaming can be recognized as simply not attempting to do something, forcing the fate of another character, roleplaying like you are fighting a punching bag. *he trips his assailant, then punches him two times in the face before running away*. Simply being overpowered; *hacks computer at first attempt, gets all information on computer*
Define God-Modding in your words: (To me, this has always been an aspect of Power-Gaming, definitions may be mixed) God-modding can be recognized as being completely unrealistic, or overpowered, simply being illogical. *jumps off the skyscraper, and lands on the grass; the grass breaks his fall.* *runs up the wall, then jumps over the angry crowd and escapes*
**In Character**
Name: Edwin Satan Van-Daele
Nickname: N/A
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Appearance: 6’1 in height, muscly (a soldier’s body), greying hair, signs of aging on his face, fern green eyes, short cut hair, heavy stubble on his face. Battle wounds are spread across his body, scars and bullet wounds from him traveling to San Francisco
Personality: Edwin is a calm man, usually keeping to himself. A warrior, his personality most likely will determine on his future, not his past, intelligent, he knows how to use all kinds of weapons. Despite his loyalty, he does not live to serve, on his free time he relaxes, or enjoys tobacco; he’s smart enough not to die for his ego. He is a tough, and not easily broken. He doesn’t often panic, when others would.
In-game RP example:
Deserts of Nevada, a pack brahmin strolls down the road, the trader guarded by two mercenaries.
-Two raiders come out from rocks on the right and left side of the road, aiming guns at the caravan
-the mercenaries aim their assault rifles back.-*
The raider to the right twitching, aiming a pistol at the group* he says “Come on, you know the drill, give us your stuff, and we’ll let you run off.”
The trader looks between the mercenaries and raiders, his hands up, “Here, let me get the stuff, don’t shoot each other.” *Turning around, walking to the brahmin.*
“That won’t be necessary, get to cover.” Says one of the mercenaries.
The trader halted, tensions increased as the trader looked over to the raiders
-the mercenary gritted his teeth, and held the rifle tight.
-The trader hid behind the brahmin, as he heard the bullets fly, the brahmin falling on him as it is killed by a stray bullet.
-The trader pushing the brahmin off of him, a minute after the firing stops, looking around as the dust clears, he saw the dead mercenaries to his side, ahead a raider in the middle of the road, bleeding out from a bullet wound to his stomach.
-The trader walking over, slowly, looking down to meet the man’s eyes.
-The raider raised his pistol, shooting a bullet at the trader's head.
-The trader is shot in the forehead, killed instantly, falling back.
-The raider died slowly, bleeding out, surrounded by death.
Background:(Lacking compared to my other character’s backstories, as his past was somewhat simple)
Edwin Van-Daele was born into the Brotherhood’s Chicago Chapter, child of Paladin Daniel Van-Daele, and Scribe Elizabeth H. Satan. He was raised as a Brotherhood Squire, and did not get much attention from his parents, eating well; he grew to a height of 5’11 by age twelve, and began training at age fourteen, becoming an Initiate. Social life was bland/non-existent, spending most of his free time sleeping, Edwin studied the armor and weapons the brotherhood used, giving him some skill in repairing them.
Van-Daele became an Apprentice at age seventeen, and remained one until age twenty. At age twenty, Edwin proved himself by having the second best recorded accuracy in his age group, on the firing range. He was then promoted to Junior Knight. His father succumbed to mesothelioma, meaning his recon armor’s asbestos encapsulation was somehow damaged in his past. His mother reacted maturely, continuing to do her job. Van-Daele took up smoking, sad that his father died before he could do much with him, toughening his personality.
He became a Knight at age twenty-four, getting power armor training. Beginning to go on missions. Sent out on a reconnaissance mission, to investigate a nearby possible location of valuable technology, he was attacked by two raiders, getting shot from behind in the lower back with a Lee-Enfield .303, (only wearing recon armor), he managed to fight them off, using his laser rifle, he managed to return to the base before bleeding out, getting immediate medical attention, and surviving. His mother came to visit him, to his surprise. He recovered well, back on his feet before the end of the month.
He spent the next twelve years as a model Knight, likely told he is being held down for a large promotion. Because of his skill, record, and the fact that the brotherhood could not use him as well as they could in a new chapter, he was one of the honored to be chosen people, who were brought along in the squad with the young Elder-to-be Diana Anderson, heading to San Francisco, to start a chapter. (As for adding more things to why they went to San Francisco, that isn't about me, that's about the whole faction's lore, I did however add reasons on why he was picked.)
*Powers up vault boy 3000*
(UofM gave me permission to start as a member of the brotherhood.)
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Edited, though it should be noted the RP example is RPed from the view of the trader, so most RP-like and non-story like actions are involved with him, nevertheless most of the RP example portrays RP now. Good to see you again, 'swell.
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IGN: nolanwashere
Age: 14
How did you find us? I’ve been affiliated with Akavir for a long while, ‘was also on SooF.
What Roleplay experience do you have? I’ve been RPing on servers for years now, and I also have an abundant amount of staff experience.
Define Meta-gaming in your words: Meta gaming is when one learns something IRL/OOCly and changes their character’s actions, personality, or location around this information that their character doesn’t know, but the player does. Meta gaming is not telling somebody something OOCly about something IC, using that information that you learn OOCly to alter your character however is.
Define Power-gaming in your words: Power gaming can be recognized as simply not attempting to do something, forcing the fate of another character, roleplaying like you are fighting a punching bag. *he trips his assailant, then punches him two times in the face before running away*. Simply being overpowered; *hacks computer at first attempt, gets all information on computer*
Define God-Modding in your words: (To me, this has always been an aspect of Power-Gaming, definitions may be mixed) God-modding can be recognized as being completely unrealistic, or overpowered, simply being illogical. *jumps off the skyscraper, and lands on the grass; the grass breaks his fall.* *runs up the wall, then jumps over the angry crowd and escapes*
**In Character**
Name: Edwin Satan Van-Daele
Nickname: N/A
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Appearance: 6’1 in height, muscly (a soldier’s body), greying hair, signs of aging on his face, fern green eyes, short cut hair, heavy stubble on his face. Battle wounds are spread across his body, scars and bullet wounds from him traveling to San Francisco
Personality: A warrior, his personality most likely will determine on his future, not his past, intelligent, he knows how to use all kinds of weapons. Despite his loyalty, he does not live to serve, on his free time he relaxes, or enjoys tobacco; he’s smart enough not to die for his ego. He is a tough man, not easily broken. He doesn’t often panic, when others would.
In-game RP example:
Deserts of Nevada, a pack brahmin strolls down the road, the trader guarded by two mercenaries.
-Two raiders come out from rocks on the right and left side of the road, aiming guns at the caravan
-the mercenaries aim their assault rifles back.-*
The raider to the right twitching, aiming a pistol at the group* he says “Come on, you know the drill, give us your stuff, and we’ll let you run off.”
The trader looks between the mercenaries and raiders, his hands up, “Here, let me get the stuff, don’t shoot each other.” *Turning around, walking to the brahmin.*
“That won’t be necessary, get to cover.” Says one of the mercenaries.
The trader halted, tensions increased as the trader looked over to the raiders
-the mercenary gritted his teeth, and held the rifle tight.
-The trader hid behind the brahmin, as he heard the bullets fly, the brahmin falling on him as it is killed by a stray bullet.
-The trader pushing the brahmin off of him, a minute after the firing stops, looking around as the dust clears, he saw the dead mercenaries to his side, ahead a raider in the middle of the road, bleeding out from a bullet wound to his stomach.
-The trader walking over, slowly, looking down to meet the man’s eyes.
-The raider raised his pistol, shooting a bullet at the trader's head.
-The trader is shot in the forehead, killed instantly, falling back.
-The raider died slowly, bleeding out, surrounded by death.
Background:(Lacking compared to my other character’s backstories, as his past was somewhat simple)
Edwin Van-Daele was born into the Brotherhood’s Chicago Chapter, child of Paladin Daniel Van-Daele, and Scribe Elizabeth H. Satan. He was raised as a Brotherhood Squire, and did not get much attention from his parents, eating well; he grew to a height of 5’11 by age twelve, and began training at age fourteen, becoming an Initiate. Social life was bland/non-existent, spending most of his free time sleeping, Edwin studied the armor and weapons the brotherhood used, giving him some skill in repairing them.
Van-Daele became an Apprentice at age seventeen, and remained one until age twenty. At age twenty, Edwin proved himself by having the second best recorded accuracy in his age group, on the firing range. He was then promoted to Junior Knight. His father succumbed to mesothelioma, meaning his recon armor’s asbestos encapsulation was somehow damaged in his past. His mother reacted maturely, continuing to do her job. Van-Daele took up smoking, sad that his father died before he could do much with him, toughening his personality.
He became a Knight at age twenty-four, getting power armor training. Beginning to go on missions. Sent out on a reconnaissance mission, to investigate a nearby possible location of valuable technology, he was attacked by two raiders, getting shot from behind in the lower back with a Lee-Enfield .303, (only wearing recon armor), he managed to fight them off, using his laser rifle, he managed to return to the base before bleeding out, getting immediate medical attention, and surviving. His mother came to visit him, to his surprise. He recovered well, back on his feet before the end of the month.
He spent the next twelve years as a model Knight, likely told he is being held down for a large promotion. Because of his skill, record, and the fact that the brotherhood could not use him as well as they could in a new chapter, he was one of the honored to be chosen people, who were brought along in the squad with the young Elder-to-be Diana Anderson, heading to San Francisco, to start a chapter. (As for adding more things to why they went to San Francisco, that isn't about me, that's about the whole faction's lore, I did however add reasons on why he was picked.)
*Powers up vault boy 3000*
(UofM gave me permission to start as a member of the brotherhood.)
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Accepted, as long as you agree and understand that you can't have purple eyes, it's not human. In real life, they are extremely rare, and half the people who look at it would call it a purple tinted indigo-grey, it is impossible to have deep purple, or even medium purple eyes.
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Accepted
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Your character's life didn't start with the prison breakout, write about his life before, also you'll be using the server's texture pack when on the server, because it's the server's texture pack.
For now, denied. Please try again
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Your backstory should still be expanded more, it's hard to follow and should have more needed information, less irrelevant information. There also isn't a recently collapsed tower in our Denver map, because there's no reason it would survive bombing and collapse now randomly.
Until your app (mainly your backstory) is improved, you are still denied.
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I'd like it if the RP example was less far-fetched, but it's nothing holding the app back I suppose.
Accepted