Realistic or Modern Frozen Hell (Apocalypse World 2E) - CS

[WlfSamurai]

Post your characters here. Attached are the playbooks that can be chosen from for making characters. Pick one, follow the character creation section of the playbook, and then post it here.

 

[Scattered Ambitions]

Mercury, The Skinner

◯ Cool - +1
◯ Hard - +1
◯ Hot - +2
◯ Sharp - +1
◯ Weird - -2

Harm -
Experience -
Look - Woman, casual wear, beautiful face, laughing eyes, quick hands, slim body

Spoiler: Look

Mercury is a short, slender woman. She looks about as young as she is, which is around 19. Her chosen art form is singing, but she does enjoy pianting as well so she is rarley without paint splatters. She looks, for lack of a better word, untouched. Untouched by violence, untouched by the world she inhabits. Her hands are soft and her skin is smooth. She projects a carefree air, and when one spends too long around her they tend to pick it up as well. She has a shaved head, although fuzz has started to sprout, and dark skin. Her eyes appear to be a muddy brown but when you get close to her as so many feel compelled to do they are a muted hazel. She takes no precautions with her clothing and generally sports a sundress when inside. When it comes to color, she always picks something bright, something that contrasts with the rest of the ash covered world. Usually this means light yellows, pastel blues and soft pinks. On the occasions when she does venture out, she has a long and fairly expensive fur coat which serves to keep her warm.

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Gear - Pet (valuable alive)
Long gorgeous coat (worn valuable)
Ornate sword (3 harm hand valuable)
Odments (2 barter)
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Moves:
- Artful & gracious: when you perform your chosen art—any act of expression or culture—or when you put its product before an audience, roll+hot. On a 10+, spend 3. On a 7–9, spend 1. Spend 1 to name an NPC member of your audience and choose one: • this person must meet me. • this person must have my services. • this person loves me. • this person must give me a gift. • this person admires my patron. On a miss, you gain no benefit, but suffer no harm or lost opportunity. You simply perform very well.
- An arresting skinner: when you remove a piece of clothing, your own or someone else’s, no one who can see you can do anything but watch. You command their absolute attention. If you choose, you can exempt individual people, by name
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Hx:
• Which one of you is my friend? For that character, write Hx+2.
• Which one of you is my lover? For that character, write Hx+1.
• Sara - Hx -1

 

[Ronan]

Clarke, The Angel

Look: Woman, scrounge wear plus utility, strong face, hard eyes, and stout body.
Statistics: Cool -1, Hard +1, Hot=0, Sharp +2, Weird +1.
HX:

• Which one of you do I figure is doomed to self-destruction? For that character, write HX-2.
• Which one of you put a hand in when it mattered, and helped me save a life? For that character, write HX+2.
• Which one of you has been beside me all along, and has seen everything I've seen? For that character, write HX+3.

Gear: Angel kit (no supplier), .38 revolver (2-harm close reload loud), oddments worth 2 barter, blue bomber jacket (worth 1-armour).
Moves:

• Infirmary: you get an infirmary, a workspace with life support, a drug lab and a crew of 2. Get patients into it and you can work on them like a savvyhead on tech (cf).
• Touched By Death: when someone is unconscious in your care, you can use them for augury. When someone has died in your care, you can use their body for augury.

 

[Teh Frixz]

Introducing

The Spectacle
The worse off people are, the more their struggles are hopeless, the greater their need to watch bastards in even bloodier, more pointless struggle. You're that bastard and they love you with all their hearts...

​

• Background Info
• Basic Info
• Fan Info
• Vital Info
• Stat Info
• Hx Info
• Improvement Info

• "Saratoga" The Rapturous Chain. The Maiden of Mettle. The Slayer of Souls. The Child of Carnage.
  
  
  The Forge Pits are where gladiators go to die. Last ditch efforts to avoid a slow death, the pit fighters tired of eking out a living on blood and booze, the worn out battle maidens unable to fill a five man venue, the shit talking idiots looking to prove a point the Apocalypse likes to make over and over. It is a place of death and despair. A black hole sucking in and letting nothing out.
  
  
  Nothing except the one who climbed free.
  
  
  Slave chattel, Forge fodder. The nameless and talentless meat shoved into the grinder while whatever currency is popular at the time turns the crank. Hundreds of them released to the Forge at once resulting in slaughter still spoken about in whispers. Truly the only time the beastial crowds had to look away from their own creation. And in that instant, she was seen.
  
  
  The dark haired girl, chattel garb, body, mind, and soul torn to ribbons, putting one hand after another on one of the thousands of spiked chains hanging into the forge. One hand impaling itself on the razor edge points, coated over countless times with the blood of sacrifice after another. The crowd was silent as she hauled herself up and out of the Forge. Her date of death brand, a symbol of the Forge burnt into the neck of any thrown in, showing her entrance into that kiln of death a full month earlier. A month in a living hell of screams, torture, blood, and eternal combat.
  
  
  To climb free of the Forge and survive was freedom. Never before had any climbed out, their corpses rotting mid climb, but here she was. The silence continued until the progeny of the Forge stood up. Her chain wrapped around her fists, she put them into the air.
  
  
  The crowd could not be calmed. The cheering. The jeering. The coin exchanging hand as she left the Forge. The branded Saratoga, Champion of the Forge, was let loose on the world.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Playbook: The Spectacle
  
  
  Stage Name: Saratoga
  
  
  Actual Name: Sara
  
  
  Look: Woman, Showy scrounge wear, Scarred face, Caring eyes, Muscular body, Partly shaved hair
  
  
  Arena Gear: Chain Lasso, Spiked Knuckles
  
  
  Practical Gear: Hidden knives
  
  
  Statline: Cool 0, Hard 2, Hot 2, Sharp -1, Weird -1
  
  
  Base moves: Showman, Hot Commodity, Torrid
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  The arena: Bared flesh, spotlights, barbed wire
  
  
  The Fans: Dedicated (Want +Savagery) Huge in number (#100)(Want +Anxiety)(+1 Barter surplus Take this shit seriously (Want +Reprisals) Escape from this world (Want +Idle) (+1 Stupor surplus)
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Look: A girl of about sixteen, she appears to be just on the cusp of womanhood. Her body still hanging on to the coltish look and feel of pubescence. Her dark hair is cut in dramatic fashion, both sides of her head shaved to leave a stip about two inches wide of long dark hair that reaches her waist. Her face and body are riddled with nasty laceration scars that mar the essential look of youthfulness she projects up close. No neat eye scars, a good 75 percent of them are deep puncture and laceration wounds that healed up slowly and without much treatment. Her face is strong, showing a sort of determined look that even laughter and tears cannot remove. A strong nose and jaw give her a sharp and striking profile yet but there remains some youthful chubbiness in her cheeks. Her left cheek was nearly torn off, scar tissue ribbing the flesh. Her Right ear is missing. Moving down her body she has a great deal of marking around her throat. Her chest is fairly spared except for strange chevron shape scars running over her breast and down her side. Her right leg is riddled with deep slash marks and her right foot is missing two toes. She is well muscled, body showing signs of having adapted to a life of physical hardship and sudden action.
  
  
  Her eyes are a soft green, lacking the harshness of her body. They are large and manage to catch the eyes of fans without giving the impression of her looking back but when she does, it's easy to get lost in exploring the wide and trusting expanse they provide.
  
  
  Her stage gear is rather skimpy, showing off enough skin to lure men from their whorehouses for a little while. Bits and pieces of cloth and of course the chain wrapped around both fists and draped across her shoulder blades. Between that and cloth there is the grease paint over her eyes and long black lines with X's on them to play up the chain angle.
  
  
  Off stage, she prefers soft fabrics made into loose fitting casual wear. Flowing tops and bottoms, usually grey, black, or white. In this she usually carries a slew of knives hidden under the material of her wear.
  
  
  The Fans: Her dedicated rabble have come far and wide to watch their gladiator fight. Emphasis on their gladiator. They watch each and every fight, screaming for more and more bloody acts. They are primarily the downtrodden scrub class with a few rich benefactors organizing them during meetups to watch her fights. They are split into two main factions, one dedicated to hating Saratoga and the other dedicated to praising her. These internal factions while not openly hostile to each other, can occasionally come to blows. Their fanbase is quite serious with their threats and intentions, often taking out any sort of built up frustration on people outside the fanbase.
  
  
  The main reason they watch though, love her or hate her, they find Saratoga's fights an escape route from this world. Watching her, they lose themselves for a bit in their fervor of praise or hate. A good deal of them, both in the love or praise camps are in the early stages of forming a cult around her.
  
  
  The Arena: While she was born of the forge, Saratoga doesn't fight in there often anymore. Her show a traveling spectacle, often setting up fights in local arenas but adding a distinct flavor. Not much armor is worn and when it is, it is specialized. Lots of bare flesh and often halftime is spent getting to know the local fleshtrade. Barbed wire is strung around the arena and spotlights setup that focus on the combatants, cutting out at the time of death.
  
  
  
• 
  
  

  Cool: 0
  Hard: 2
  Hot: 2
  Sharp: -1
  Weird: -1

  
  GEAR:
  
  
  Scrounged armor: +1 Armor rating
  
  
  Chain Lasso: 2 Harm, Close
  
  
  Spiked Knuckles: 2 Harm, Hand, Messy
  
  
  MOVES:
  
  
  Showman: Surplus want and demand depend on the fans. After a grand display of your skills, roll +hot. On 10+ get 1 Surplus from fans. On 7-9 Get 1 surplus but +1 want. On miss, get all of the want.
  
  
  Hot Commodity: When a character other than you own sets up a showy display of your skills for profit, they roll +juggling. Or zero if they have no juggling. On a hit, a special prize of 2 barter above normal can be made from the competition. On 7-9 the MC choses one or two from
  
  
  - The job is especially dangerous
  
  
  - The spectacle has to lose in order to get the prize
  
  
  - The spectacle is competing against someone they have history with
  
  
  - The job is treacherous or difficult to reach
  
  
  - The job is gonzo, weird, or embarrassing
  
  
  Torrid: When you get hurt in a rough and tumble fight, you can choose to replace 1 point of harm with a +1 bonus (max +3) to Hot that lasts until the end of the session. You can't replace another point of harm this way for the rest of the session.
  
  
  Spectacle Special: When you and another character have sex, roll + the number of people you're having sex with after the first. On a hit, you all take +1 forward, on a miss you are too much, you all take -1 forward.
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Nobody (0)
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  Nada so far
  
  
  

 

[Magnum]

Colum, The Faceless

Look: Man, Scrounged armor, Merciless eyes, Huge body
Mask: Balaclava, Stained

Spoiler: Look (Expanded)

A tall, broad man of indeterminate age, his presence can be felt by the sheer amount of space he takes up. He's a head-and-a-half taller than most, a seven footer at least, and there's enough space between his shoulders for a child to lay upon them and not dangle off. One of his raggedly gloved hands could wrap a good ways around that same child's head. Needless to say he looks down on most, dark eyes unchanging despite the suffering they are privy too. One of his eyes is perpetually bloodshot, a small gash in it's surface visible through the hole of his mask. The skin around his eyes is a color like muddied water, and the openings around his eyes are uneven, torn as they are into the sack that covers his face. Rusty steel wire loops about it's surface, pressing the bag snugly against him. His mask's roughspun surface, having been stitched and patched many times, has let it's deep brown expanse be broken by strips of dark and light shades, as well as both softer and stiffer cloths. What looks like faded letters can be seen if one looks closely, but they are too faint and stained to read. The faded, dark stains upon it are ubiquitous, and give no clue as to how recent the stains are, or even what they are. The same stains can sometimes be found on his simple clothes of worn, matte colored cloth. These stains are less noticed, partly due to the armor he wears over his clothes. Scrap metal, pipe, and grating, all crudely welded and bolted together in a cage about his torso, complimentary pieces of scavenge dotting his arms and legs to a lesser degree. It is said that his chest and shoulders sport the smallish warps of shot-scar, and slice-scars cover his left arm to the shoulder.

Stats: Cool+1 Hard+2 Hot-1 Sharp+1 Weird=0
Moves:

1. Rasputin: Shot, stabbed, poisoned, you just keep coming. When you are being scary as fuck and coming at someone, you get +1 armor. You still get shot and stabbed, bleeding just doesn't bother you that much anymore.
2. Pit Bull: Whenever your life becomes untenable, name the person you hold most responsible. Take +1 ongoing to all rolls versus them, forever. (All rolls with them directly as a target count, of course. Rolls against their family and friends, minions, or property may count, in the MC’s judgment. MCs, remember your job is to make Apocalypse World seem real and keep the characters’ lives interesting, not deny the PCs bonuses.)
3. Beastly: You get +1 Hard (Hard +3)

The Unexpected: When someone sees you unmasked for the first time, they take s-harm, in addition to anything else that happens.
Unmasked:

• Grotesque: Every PC who sees you goes immediately to Hx+3 with you.
• Ashamed: You have Hard=0 until you cover your face again.

Faceless Special: If you and another character have sex, hold 1. If they get into shit, either you or they can spend your hold and you are there.
Gear:

• Machete (3-harm hand messy)
• Scrounged Armor (worth 2 armor)
• Oddments (worth 2-barter)

Hx:

• Saratoga, +3
• Mercury, +2

Spoiler: History

In the long cold, the things needed to live have become hard to come by, and even harder to give away. Maybe they think it's better this way, or just want one less mouth to feed, but times have made it all too common for parents to leave one or more of their children in the wastes to die. But some of these children, despite all odds, don't die. Then, their true suffering begins, facing sickness and hunger, thirst and pain in a world of broken glass. Men, women, and beasts are learned to be feared, or they never give the children a chance to learn. And the cold. Always the cold. But it was into this life that Colum was thrown, and he scraped and toiled through it, growing in spite of the odds of his environment. As he grew, he came to think of himself as one of the men and women, for he could walk as tall as them and make their sounds. He tried to follow them, desperate in the insufferable loneliness of it all. This would prove to be a mistake, and their blades and clubs descended on him once they realized one of the ferals was tailing them. He might have been able to get away, had he been smaller, but he could no longer fit into his hiding spaces, and was too heavy to run along the rubble heaps without falling in. It wasn't fair, to have worked so hard, to have lasted this long and proven himself worthy of being among them, only to die so pathetically. It was in this great despair that a hate against the very world and it's unceasing cruelty was born. Tearing one of the blades from a stray hand, Colum pierced and tore through his attackers, bloodying himself further as he pressed against their blows, but feeling little of it beneath the hate. When he was done, he took the mask of their strongest, proof that he had become better than them, as well as whatever looked useful. Thus began his life as an adult, and a raider.

 

[ThaDruid]

The Maestro D'

In the golden age of legend, there was this guy named Maestro. He was known for dressing up real dap and whever he went, the people had much luxe tune. Tere was this other guy named Maitre d’. He was known for dressing up real dap and whever he went, the people had all the food they could eat and the fanciest of it. Here in Apocalypse World, those two guys are dead. They died and the fat sizzled off them, they died same as much-luxe-tune and all-you-can-eat. The maestro d’ now, he can’t give you what those guys used to could, but fuck it, maybe he can find you a little somethin' somethin' to take off the edge.

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O'Ven
bloody hands and a clean face. O'Ven didn't become what he is through honest means.

Look: Man, Butcher wear, Expressive face, Cool eyes, Restless body, Quick hands
Stats: Cool=0 Hard+1 Hot+2 Sharp+1 Weird-1
Moves:
Just give me a motive: name somebody who might conceivably eat, drink, or otherwise ingest something you’ve touched. If it’s an NPC, roll+hard; a PC, roll+Hx. On a 10+, they do, and suffer 4-harm (ap) sometime during the next 24 hours. On a 7-9, it’s 2-harm (ap). On a miss, some several people of the MC’s choice, maybe including your guy maybe not, get it, and all suffer 3-harm (ap).
Everybody eats, even that guy: when you want to know something about someone important (your call), roll+hot. On a hit, you can ask the MC questions. On a 10+, ask 3. On a 7-9, ask 1:
• How are they doing? what’s up with them?
• What or who do they love best?
• Who do they know, like and/or trust?
• When next should I expect to see them?
• How could I get to them, physically or emotionally?
On a miss, ask 1 anyway, but they hear about your interest in them

Gear: • a wicked blade: an unnervingly clean and sharpened butcher's cleaver (2-harm hand)
• oddments worth 2-barter
Harm: None yet
Improvement: None
Hx: To be determined


The Establishment:
"Swinehaus"
It is not the quality that matters. A hungry man will eat his own hand to survive.

Main act: Lots of food
Side acts: Spectacle, Fights
Atmosphere: Meat, Red lights, Spice, A Cage
The Regulars: Lamprey, Ba, Camo, Toyota, Lits and Ink
• Who’s your best regular?
"Lamprey's an odd-jobber, but an odd-jobber for the right kind of people. He's got big contacts, and by keeping him fed the Swinehaus gets some much needed publicity"
• Who’s your worst regular?
"Ink brings bad luck wherever she goes. We just try to feed her and shove her out as quickly as possible..."
There is interest: Been, Rolfball, Gams, Lupara
Who wants in on it?
"Gams wants a piece of the biz. Problem is, the biz dosen't want any piece of Gams."
Who do you owe for it?
"Before we had any real security to speak of, Lupara provided her services and threw out any unwanted patrons, free of charge. Said she'd come back eventually when she needed barter, or a favor... And we haven't seen her in a while."
Who wants it gone?
"Rolfball'd become a nuisance. Boss tried to poison him. Didn't work out so well. Now he's hellbent trying to bring us down forever."
Security: • everybody’s packing: your cast & crew are a gang (2-harm gang small 0-armor)
• a warren of dead-ends, hideaways & boltholes
Cast & Crew: Faces
"The Faces are a silent group of unassuming individuals, characterized by their dapper suits and elegance. They tend to the Swinehaus and its patrons with loyalty, acting as the establisment's face when boss O'ven is too busy in the kitchen."​