New Vegas: War Never Changes

[Protagonist]

Name:


Faction: (You can have multiple. For example, Boone would have "NCR and Novac" on his list)


Hometown:


Appearance: (A picture will suffice)


SPECIAL: (You have 38 points to distribute, and may have no higher than 10. If you replace one or more of your Perks with "Intense Training", you get one more point to distribute)


Tag Skills: (List 3)


Perks: (choose 3. If it's a 'trait' style perk with a downside, you can have it without it counting towards your 3)


Weapons: (Try not to start with more than 3, unless they are wimpy weapons)


Armor/Clothing:


History:


Personality: (Optional)


RP Sample: (Optional. I may ask one from you though if you're looking to be playing a canon)


Wanted Canons:


Sunny Smiles


Victor


Ringo


Joe Cobb


(You can apply for others, of course, these would just be convenient for me right now)


Taken Canons:


The Courier


 
Name: Adam Campbell


Faction: Goodsprings


Hometown: Goodsprings


Appearance:

SPECIAL:


Strength: 5


Perception: 6


Endurance: 4


Charisma: 6


Intelligence: 6


Agility: 5


Luck: 6


Tag Skills: Guns, Sneak, Speech


Perks:


-Lady Killer: Girls dig Couriers.


-Educated: Adam has been formally educated, and is well-read.


-Sneering Imperialist: While working as a Courier, his greatest enemies were fiends and raiders. As such, he's specialized in fighting tribals and junkies.


Weapons: Varmint Rifle, Boxing Tape, Switchblade


Armor/Clothing: Pre-war Buisness Suit, Prewar Hat


Personality: Adam generally falls into the archetype of Lawful Good. He's relatively humble about any heroic actions he takes, if he takes any, considering himself to be a punch-clock hero more than anything. He's relatively open-minded, at least wanting to hear everybody out before deciding a course of action or an attack. However, he's developed a certain distrust of tribals, thanks to Fiends constantly trying to attack him when he was a courier, and more recently, the Khans assisting in stealing the Platinum Chip. He also likes to flirt with every other woman he meets, which occasionally gets him into trouble. He's also a religious man, but not to the extent of Joshua Graham by a long shot.


History: Adam was just a little courier living in the Mojave. He was asked to deliver an odd, platinum chip. It sounded innocent enough, so he took the job. He was waltzing through Goodsprings when he was suddenly ambushed by a few thugs. One of them, by the name of "Benny", shot him in the head with a 9mm. He scarcely remembers the event now, it's all kind of a blur. However, a robot by the name of Victor had managed to dig him out of his grave, and delivered him to Doc Mitchel.

 

[Riddle78]

Name: Steven Stone


Factions: Brotherhood of Steel (Test subject,MIA) ; Followers of the Apocalypse (Volunteer patient,missing with valuable and potentially dangerous technology) ; New California Republic (Citizen,missing,presumed dead)


Hometown: The Boneyard


Appearance: Steven stands at five foot eight inches,and clocks in at a surprisingly heavy 204 pounds,likely due to the cybernetic arms he possesses,which he makes no attempts to hide. He is completely bald,with surgical scars faintly visible along the back and top of his head. His skin is obviously of Caucasian birth,but his time outside gives him the complexion of a dirty boot. His brown eyes are often taking in the surroundings in a squint,and he's overall built like a Deathclaw: Huge frame,lots of muscle.


Tag Skills: Melee Weapons,Unarmed Combat,Repair


Strength: 9/10 (+5,in relation to arms)


Perception: 5/10


Endurance: 7/10


Charisma: 1/10


Intelligence: 4/10


Agility: 6/10 (+5,in relation to arms)


Luck: 6/10


Traits: Cyberware. Due to an experimental surgery with the Followers of the Apocalypse,and subsequent...Enhancements at the hands of the Brotherhood of Steel,Steven is in possession of a pair of extremely advanced cybernetic arms,plus the neural wetware to support it. As such,his arms are far stronger and more agile than even the finest human equivalent. However,due to their robotic nature,Steven is rendered vulnerable to electric discharge,and EMP assault. One pulse grenade can fry his brain.


Perks





-Heave-Ho! Steven was able to throw things pretty damn hard and far before. The new arms crank it up a few notches.


-Heavyweight: Steven's a BIG man. He knows how to carry big things.


-Toughness: Steven is a large and tough man. His life's hardships have conditioned him to be more accepting of pain,and his body to be more resilient.


Weapons: Five javelins,one sledgehammer,his own body.


Apparel: T-51b Powered Armour (Stolen,stripped down,waist to feet only),wide-brimmed sombrero (two and a half foot radius),slings and a quiver for his hammer and javelins.


Personality: In the fields of his expertise (see above),Steven can be considered a genius,and is more than willing to impart his knowledge. Otherwise,he's quite inept at everything involving people,almost as if his foot's permanently in his mouth. He holds the Brotherhood of Steel in equal parts disdain and fear,and holds a healthy respect for the Followers of the Apocalypse. In a social scenario,Steven would much rather stay back and observe,hoping to improve his social skills,and not step on anyone's toes.


History: Steven was born in the Los Angeles Boneyard,pretty much just as the NCR came in and started to clean the place up. From an early age,he came to respect the Followers for the good they done to the people of the Boneyard and surrounding area,and made a few connections,even scoring an internship as a laborer and custodian at their medical university. When the Followers began experimenting in human augmentation technologies,Steven was on board for the idea,and volunteered to test a prototype produced based on recovered Old World schematics.


The surgery lasted for ten hours. Along with having his original arms removed to allow room for the cybernetic limbs,he needed a neural implant to allow the arms to interface with his central nervous system. He went into cardiac arrest twice on the slab,and was saved with timely defibrillator blasts,not to mention the mid-surgery blood transfusion he needed. When the doctors finished their work,Steven was more than man,more than machine. More than the sum of his parts. Or,at least,that's what they said. Steven felt no different. Yeah,his arms weight quite a bit more,but he could deal with that.


One evening,on his way home from the Followers Medical University,he was knocked unconscious,bound,and carried off into the night.


He awoke in a brightly lit room of steel and concrete. He was strapped to a chair,and across from him was a head perched atop a suit of steel. A member of the Brotherhood of Steel. His helmet was on the table before him,and there were two helmeted Paladins flanking the door behind him,wielding what appeared to be coilguns. Trained on him. Pleasant thing to wake up to. Steven,of course,had a moment of panic,but couldn't break free. The man across from him simply waited for Steven to calm down,and presented to him an ultimatum. Become the Brotherhood's cyberware test subject until the end of days,or die,here and now.


Like any sane human,Steven took the test subject offer. A Hobson's Choice if there ever was one. For years,he was experimented upon,numerous upgrades and changes were made to his neural hub and arms,to various results. Eventually,they needed a live-fire test. With five javelins and a guard of two Paladins and a Knight,Steven was sent to the surface to test the strength of the arms. Seeing the sun for the first time in years,Steven enjoyed it. Then,he realized. He's outside. Only three people stand between him and freedom.


It was that,or die,anyways.


When the Knight came to get a control reading on the arms,Steven made his move. He struck him across the head with the back of his closed fist. There were several cracks and crunches,and the Knight's head spun one hundred and twenty degrees,and he flopped over to the ground,dying,and paralyzed from the neck down. As he turned,he drew a pair of javelins,and hurled them at the Paladins,panicking that this mechanical man killed one of them so effortlessly,without a weapon.


The spears rammed home in the respirator for one of the men,and the neck seal for the other. Both died on the spot.


He knew that the Brotherhood would learn of their deaths shortly,and send teams to investigate. Steven removed the leggings from one of the Paladins,and stripped them down on the spot,making sure that he could use them,without compromising the protective qualities,and ensuring that he didn't need to rely on actuators to move. His glorified steel leggings acquired,Steven retrieved his javelins,and set out East,to the frontier. He heard the Paladins and Knights talk about how the Mojave chapter dropped out of contact a while ago. Perfect place to hole up.


In an attempt to avoid detection from the Brotherhood,Steven avoided settlements when he could. On arrival to the Mojave,he climbed the mountains to avoid the NCR outpost there,and found himself in a tiny town,calling itself Goodsprings,with quite a hubbub raised about some package courier,double-tapped in the brainpan and left for dead,resurrected by the quick work of the local doctor. Nothing short of miraculous. Steven decided it would be good to investigate.

Spoiler

Steven was walking down the highway. In the distance,he could see a giant novelty dinosaur,and the telltale glint of a sniper's scope in the sunset light. Always prepared for an attack,he walked with a javelin in his left hand,and his sledgehammer in the right. Just as he passed an overturned cargo trailer from eons ago,a gunshot thundered into the ground beside him.


Time seemed to halt as adrenaline coursed through Steven's system. Was it the sniper? No,I heard the gunshot as the round impacted. Close. Behind. CRAP! Steven wheeled around to see a bunch of filthy thugs come out from behind the trailer. Frequent ambush,it seems... One of the marauders had a lever action rifle,standing to the rear of the crowd. Her allies,six of them,brandished assorted handguns and bludgeons. "Alright,shit stain,gimme yer caps,Legion coin,and NCR green,then maybe we won't kill ya." The baying laughter that followed her demand said otherwise.


Steven hurled his javelin into the riflewoman's collarbone with a pithy reply of, "F*** you too,asshole." With the sudden death of their leader,the highwaymen were stunned,but only for a moment.


It was all Steven needed.


He rushed into the nearest trio of thugs. One had a revolver,another a ten millimeter handgun,and the third had a rusty-looking combat knife.


He fell on them like a bomb on Washington.


Hammer in hand,Steven reduced the head of the thug with the ten millimeter pistol to a rapidly expanding cloud of chunky gore with a single overhead swing. Using the momentum,Steven allowed the hammer to travel down,and he spun it back up to bear,just as the cowboy recovered from his moment of shock. Too late. The hammer thundered into his chest,caving in the ribs and crushing all behind them. He fell to the ground in a heap,convulsing in his final moments.


The knife-wielding woman,however,was upon Steven. She leapt at the larger man,attempting to drive the ten inch blade into his head. A simple cross-check from the hammer put the skids on that plan,knocking the overbalanced woman over. He stepped forward,planting his foot on her pelvis as he bought the hammer out and up,then down on her neck.


The neck was reduced to ketchup on the pavement.


However,he didn't have the time to extricate his hammer from the pulpy mess,as the remaining three were on him,all wielding bludgeons. Someone cracked him across the shoulders with a tire iron,and was rewarded with a metal elbow in the chest,collapsing the sternum for his efforts. The greasemonkey fell,wheezing his last.


Steven wheeled around,delivering a mighty hook across the jaw of a woman with a crowbar. The skull practically turned to dust under his knuckles,with the mandible flying off with his follow-through. Steven's other hand sprang out,and grabbed the final hooligan's weapon,a baseball bat. In his iron grip,the thug was helpless to control it,but he tried to pull it free. With the human trash thus distracted,Steven wrapped his metal hand around the goon's throat,and began to hoist him aloft,while simultaneously squeezing down on the baseball bat with his other hand,snapping it in two.


The cybernetic man glared at the terrified thug,and said, "What made you think that was a good idea?" Finally hearing the mechanical demon speak,the highwayman finally went into full-on hysterics,shrieking in terror,begging to be spared. "No." With that,Steven hurled the piece of garbage to the pavement,as hard as he could. Many things broke,and the skull spilled gray matter. The highwayman was dead like the rest of them. He wiped his knuckles off on the clothes of his least mutilated adversary,retrieved his arms,and continued on his way to Novac,giving a jovial wave to the sniper in the dinosaur's mouth,who he KNEW was watching,now.

 

[Der Kojote]

Fallout Rp ehh? Gimmie a bit i'll get a sheet up,

 

[Protagonist]

[QUOTE="Der Kojote]Fallout Rp ehh? Gimmie a bit i'll get a sheet up,

[/QUOTE]
Yay!

 

[ThatGuyWithSouvlaki]

Namelivia Antoni


Faction:Follower of the apocalypse, formerly Ceaser's legion


Hometown: Old Mormon Fort


Appearance:

SPECIAL:


Strength: 4/10


Perception: 7/10


Endurance: 4/10


Charisma: 5/10


Intelligence: 8/10


Agility: 5/10


Luck: 5/10


Tag Skills: Science, energy weapons, medicine


Perks: Laser commander, Cherchez la femme, living anatomy, four eyes.


Weapons: recharger pistol, Laser rifle fully modded, plasma pistol


Armor/Clothing:Followers lab coat, eyeglasses, bandana


History:Raised a slave amongst Caesers Legion, Olivia was found a natural with medicine and was put to task as a healer were she earned a descent reputation and interest among legionnaires. However she had no interest in men but of another female slave, a crime punishable by death so decided to escape and find a home in new vegas. The attempt was less than successful, though the managed to escape her lover was seriously injured in the process. Olivia did what she did what she could on her but her success was limited. Eventually the came across the followers who pronounced the lover as dead on arrival but were impressed but Olivia skill offering her a place in their group. She no other options for her, she accepted.


Personality: Feisty, sarcastic, direct, loyal.

 

[Protagonist]

I'm going to Approve Olivia, but your hometown is where you currently live. Sorry, I should have specified.

 

[Der Kojote]

Name: Jacob Falmouth


Faction: NCR, Goodsprings


Hometown: Goodsprings


Appearance: Here he is, looking a lot more angry than he actually is.

Spoiler

SPECIAL:


Strength: 5


Perception: 5


Endurance: 6


Charisma: 5


Intelligence: 9


Agility: 5


Luck: 4


(I answered Skills and perks in the 1st person for some reason No idea why...)


Tag Skills:


Repair: I cannot live if my crap keeps falling apart. Sometimes in the Mojave your best friend is a well-kept firearm.


Science: Computers…there everywhere…and usually linked to turrets… I am NOT a fan of laser turrets!


Medicine: Stimpacks, Who doesn't love stimpacks, give me the right chemicals I can make them all day. DO NOT ASK ME TO MAKE JET….or psycho… Mentats maybe…but those things are addictive. I may have had a problem a while back.


Perks: Intense Training: As a young boy I realized, to get anywhere in Vegas You either have to be lucky, strong, or smart. Luck wasn’t on my side…and though I’m not a weakling…God gave me brains…not brawn, I've been exercising the old grey-matter ever since I was young.


Jury Rigging: When my dad was working on the Share cropper farms, always some NCR trooper would be complain their gun was busted. I got tired of hearing it… I told them I’d look at it. I may have only had a half functioning varmint rifle, some duct tape, and a spring from a switchblade, but I’ve managed to fix quite a few carbines, Much to the wonder of every single NCR soldier who happened to pass by and pay a few caps to get their rifle fixed.


Hand Loader: How do you get an edge over the compitetion over the rest of the Mojave? Simple, get a better gun. Lack the ability TO acquire a better gun, next best thing. Get ammo…MUCH better ammo. If still, you lack the funds to acquire a bunch of Gun runner’s specialties, well I suppose a Hollow point or Armor Piercing would have to do… or .38 special if your gun is looking particularly fragile.


Good natured: Through most of his life, Jacob has been a more of a scholar not a fighter… he’s not trained so much in the way of the heavy weapons…or the sword…or the fist… (Has this kid touched a knife? He hasn’t? What about explosives can he do them? Oh ok so some skills with a pistol.) He spent most of his time learning how to repair weapons, reprogram computers, or trying to keep the Sharecropper farmers free of diseases, or at the worst talking and bartering with the members New Vegas. He only started to learn how to use a pistol with the increase of fiend attacks. He’s been interested in picking up the use of Energy weapons, however, they’ve always been too expensive to buy, and one does not try and Barter with the Van Graphs… Unless you want to be the wrong end of a RCW…


Weapons: His father’s .357 revolver. One of the only weapons he’s really fired. He’s not terrible…however he’s not the best shot; he’ll get his target 70% of the time? 60% He’ll provide covering fire, let’s go with that >.>


Tire Iron: when the bandits get close… tools find surprising applications! In this case, a crude bludgeon. For Jacob he wields this not with grace or dexterity rather with the force of a panicked man trying not to be swarmed by bipedal Geckos! (It was a very bad experience, don’t ask.)


Armor/Clothing: All Jacob has is his Field hand outfit that he’s been wearing for a while now… kind of smelly…then again it’s the Mojave everything is smelly and slightly irradiated.


History: Jacob Falmouth began his life in the NCR with all the wonderful things that meant, (slightly less prone to be eaten by a deathclaw!) This safety was great until his father decided to move out to the Mojave under the Thaler Act. Jacob from then was either helping his father in farming…or helping the populace anyway he could… usually repairing, reprograming or being the only one with decent medical skills at the camp. However this changed with the rise in Fiend attacks. His father was caught off guard and brutally attacked. After Jacob manically retaliated with a shovel, Mr. Falmouth said to hell with the endeavor. Jacob still saw this as some place to do some good…also…they only had enough money to get one of them back to NCR territory… So Jacob stayed. He had decided to make a trip to Good Springs to sell some things at the general goods store…However on the return trip. The powder ganger incident occurred. And the other route was infested by death claws… Having no quick and safe way to get back to New Vegas or the Sharecropper farms…Jacob has been bumming it in Prospector Salon… doing odd jobs, and generally being depressed. (His luck isn’t too good…)


Personality: Neutral good describes Jacob fairly well, he wants to help, he’s familiar with how the law works, and is willing to use it…however sometimes…a law does need to be, “bent” a little. Still if you need a drinking buddy or a generally friendly accomplice in any of your schemes he’s your guy! Also his life outlook is Realistic optimist.


RP Sample:


The radio in the Prospector Saloon was playing happy times...but for a figure in booth close to the window...it was anything but. He slowly raised his hand up in the air.


"Trudy...another beer please!"


The response was a shake of the head. "No, you told me to cut you off at three... paid for it ahead of time...and not a cap more."


The Figure let his head his the table rather hard. The bartender came up to the table.


"Look Jacob was it...you can't keep staying here...this isn't an inn...the first night it was sad, the second...pathetic...the third...it's old...you need to get moving, do something else than drown your sorrows."


A grumble was heard the following "you're right...I can do this... I can get back to Vegas...no problem!" The man leapt to his feat rather drunkenly. Stumbling to the door he waved. "I'm vegas *hic* bound, I'm heading back *hic* home!" Jacob had only gotten half way out the door before falling over into unconsciousness. Trudy shook her head and threw a bucket of water on the poor sap. "Well...at least that takes care of the smell..."


That night the Gearhead slept upright in a chair, not hearing the sound of a gunshot...or the whirring of a robot dragging the body of the biggest player the Mojave had ever seen to the doctors.

 

[Protagonist]

Alright, Steven Stone and Jacob are approved. Though if you're referring to the incident with Ringo, that hasn't quite yet happened. It'll be pretty much the first thing to happen in goodsprings, though. 
Anyways, do you think I should start this RP off or wait for more people to join?


(Of course, more people can join afterwards)

 

[Der Kojote]

Umm I have no opinion in particular on the matter... Anyone else?

 

[Protagonist]

Alright, I'll start us off. I'll NPC any other canon characters that aren't currently in use. 
If your character isn't normally in goodsprings, you could come up with a reason for visiting them, or maybe undergo some sort of RP elsewhere, or just wait.

 

[Scotty]

Fallout RP, eh? I'm interested. Still taking OCs, or no?

 

[Protagonist]

We're still accepting OCs, though we'd appreciate it if someone would sign up as a canon.

 

[Scotty]

I'm not sure I could pull off a canon character convincingly or well enough. I'll try to get a sheet typed up some time tomorrow, since it's the first day off I've had in a while.


I'll see you then!

 

[Scotty]

Egh. Sorry this took me so long. Life got me with a suckerpunch. Anyway, here's the sheet.


Name: Jackson Bridgers


Faction: Goodsprings


Hometown: Goodsprings, against NCR and Caesar's Legion


Appearance:

SPECIAL:


Strength: 3


Perception: 9


Endurance: 3


Charisma: 5


Intelligence: 4


Agility: 5


Luck: 10


Tag skills:


-Guns: In a world where violence and war is the norm, one needs to know how to use a gun.


-Repair: The only asshole broken equipment will kill is you.


-Survival: “Eh, fuck it. Whatever it is, jus’ put it o’er the fire an’ cook it. I’ll make it taste good. …Kinda.”


Perks:


-Intense Training: The old man’s strength suffers, but he still has his wits about him.


-Cowboy: Rifles and revolvers – his bread and butter.


-Scrounger: The old man just has ridiculous luck when it comes to prospecting.


Traits:


-Trigger Discipline: Bullets aren’t cheap or easy to find. …Well, they are, in the Mojave, but that doesn’t mean you should waste them!


Weapons: .357 revolver, varmit rifle


Clothing: Duster, leather cowboy hat


History: Mr. Bridgers isn't a stranger to the wastes by any means. With 45+ years of experience, some of them as a wanderer, he's learned quite a bit about the ways of the wasteland. Although many of the old coot's claims are radical, most would believe him when he says he's been everywhere in the Mojave, spare a few obvious places such as the Legion's camp, or the Nellis Air Force Base. And, even then, he's probably tried to get in at least once.


He's also quite fond of gambling. Although he never truly got into Caravan, he's stopped by the casinos of New Vegas more than a few times to play his favorite game blackjack. Unfortunately (and hilariously), he was kicked out of both The Tops and the Gomorrah once or twice for 'rigging the cards', even though he would never even think of doing such a thing. Luck seems to follow the old man like a shadow -- the only thing is is that said shadow would have a luxury suit and a top hat, rather than a duster and a cowboy hat, so to speak.


But, as much as he loves exploring, adventuring, and gambling, he's found himself spending more and more time at home in Goodsprings. And, although life there is nice, he can't help but thirst for adventure again; he wants to go back, do what he did years ago, and live his life again. All he really needs is a little nudge...


Personality: Although a few things stand out about this man, such as his soft-spoken words, his love for the outdoors, and his willingness to buy anyone a drink, one thing stands out; he's curious, and wants to see everything the world has in store for him, for better or for worse. His childish curiosity never left him as he grew old, and he always finds himself sticking his head in places it shouldn't be for kicks, for fun, or for no reason at all. More than once has this gotten him into a sticky situation, but this hasn't stopped the old man in the past. (The thing that did stop him, actually, was his bad hip. ...Or, so he says.)


The other prominent thing about him is how he handles stressful situations. He knows how to keep himself and others alive in travels, and although his methods may be a bit unconventional, irregular, and at times just plain barbaric, they're always reliable, and get the job done well. Alongside this is his typical lack of fear or worry. His house could be burning down, and as someone screams at him to get out of the house, he'll calmly grab his revolver, walk out, and say something along the lines of 'I'll fix the damned thing in the morning'. This doesn't mean he's fearless, however; he knows when a considerable amount of danger is present, and does fear for the worst. It's always there, but it doesn't show unless it's very, very called for. And, at that point, it's every man for himself.


...Also, it's good to note; his selection for firearms is very, very limited. He strictly stays with revolvers and rifles* -- he loves them with a passion, it's what he grew up with, and they're what he has used in the past, is still using today, and will use for the rest of his life. Anything else he sees, he deems 'too big', 'too fancy', 'too flashy', or just plain 'shit'. Although, if he has no other choice, he will pick up one of said guns. He just won't use it wholeheartedly, and will likely suffer some sort of penalty.


(* -- Bolt-action or semi-auto are preferred. Automatic rifles are not to his liking either.)


Let me know what you think, and if you want a sample.

 

[Holo]

Name: Acerbus Vertani


Faction: None


Hometown: Navada


Appearance:

SPECIAL:


S:5


P:6


E:5


C:5


I:7


A:6


L:5


Tag Skills: Speech, small guns, lockpick


Perks: quick draw, light step, infiltrator


Weapons: A combat knife and Ranger sequoia and a sniper rifle


Armor/Clothing: A leather armor set with a NCR helmet


History: He was born in the Pitt and can easily be considered harsh and dangerous. He went through the wastes after fighting for his freedom in the Pitt earlier in his life. He fought and scraped his way across the wastes just to get to the NCR and join them. He spent most of his life in the NCR and gained much renown but doesn't brag about it since he later did the same for the legion. He now works as a caravan guard since he left both sides of the current war and is trying to get some caps for the way up to Alaska but he also wants to see who will win the war.