Kicking
'Fake ID' @Deaddrop - The Leader - Solo -
Tagged and Bagged
Skipped Town
Booked
NPCs
Enf. Fusco - NCPD
Enf. Sloan - NCPD
'Fake ID' @Deaddrop - The Leader - Solo -
Tagged and Bagged
Skipped Town
Booked
NPCs
Enf. Fusco - NCPD
Enf. Sloan - NCPD
[CHAR] Neon Lights
- Large Group
- Post-Apocalyptic
- Casual
- 18+
- Sci-Fi
- GM TrippyNightmare Co-GM tfd
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GM
TrippyNightmare Unapologetic Plagiarist
Member
Seen
4 hrs ago
'Fake ID'
"You work for me now, you do as I say."
LOOKS
Fake ID stands at six foot one wearing a door gunner's vest, the kind you see on a AV-4 TTI vehicle. The guys who mount the big guns. Under that he wears a wife beater, and his pants are some edge-runner cargos with meshing of some sort on it along with military boots. His skin is olive, like most latinos. He has long black hair which has two braid lockes behind his head. He appears to be of average build and sport hazel eyes, his facial expression is rather neutral. He is covered in various tattoos on his upper chest and back aswell as both his arms.
PSYCHE
Some describe Fake ID as a straight forward guy. He'll say what he needs to say and then stay quiet after it, or take questions. He's a man of choice words, described as a calm man his temper rarely goes off. When it does, it usually results in a fire fight, violence and the sort of actions that will get you booked. Outside of his public persona he is known to hold intellectual conversations with those who request an audience. However, rare as Fake ID is usually managing the day to day operations of his gang and has little time for talk unless it's with 'Intersprinter'
HEAT
Strangely, no one.
STREET CRED
A nobody, a whisper in the wind and a rumor to most.
THE STORY
Mexico.
Land of hot deserts and the dead, that's what it is now ever since the drug wars with the Cartels and the U.S.A. broke out in the early 90s. The dead have been stacked up, the government is non-existant and the Cartels run the streets. That's how Fake ended up in the U.S. his gang was wiped out in mexico. The details specifically are vague but it was a violent way to go and by the Feds themselves. Cybergrunts, torture, the kind of stuff that would keep you away from the U.S.A right? Wrong, they call him Fake ID for a reason. He came to the U.S. with forged documents and has been here ever since.
He never stayed too long in each state, he lived job by job. Hitting corps, dealing cyberware. It was all in the gig, or so they say. His crew was never the same for each job and the law was closing in on him. That's when he met Intersprinter in Night City - city of dreams some say. One of the best deckers in the state of NorCal he helped Fake ID stay under the radar. There's some missing bits, omitted or covered up with Intersprinter's help thus keeping Fake in the shadows once again.
Now he's in Night City and there is a job that needs to be done - no, a mission. Take over the damn city, it'll be the start of something great. What if you didn't have to work anymore, you got your money from the lackies below you and they the same? If you could live how you wanted, without the cops or anyone on you back. Get what you want when you want, not a care in the world. For Fake ID, this was the new American Dream. He was so close to grabbing it, all he needed was a team.
ARMED IN THE ONE AND TWENTY
- Kalishnikov A-80 Hvy. Rifle
- Door Gunner Vest
...AND THE REST
Fake ID sometimes gives out a strange vibe.
Fake ID stands at six foot one wearing a door gunner's vest, the kind you see on a AV-4 TTI vehicle. The guys who mount the big guns. Under that he wears a wife beater, and his pants are some edge-runner cargos with meshing of some sort on it along with military boots. His skin is olive, like most latinos. He has long black hair which has two braid lockes behind his head. He appears to be of average build and sport hazel eyes, his facial expression is rather neutral. He is covered in various tattoos on his upper chest and back aswell as both his arms.
PSYCHE
Some describe Fake ID as a straight forward guy. He'll say what he needs to say and then stay quiet after it, or take questions. He's a man of choice words, described as a calm man his temper rarely goes off. When it does, it usually results in a fire fight, violence and the sort of actions that will get you booked. Outside of his public persona he is known to hold intellectual conversations with those who request an audience. However, rare as Fake ID is usually managing the day to day operations of his gang and has little time for talk unless it's with 'Intersprinter'
HEAT
Strangely, no one.
STREET CRED
A nobody, a whisper in the wind and a rumor to most.
THE STORY
Mexico.
Land of hot deserts and the dead, that's what it is now ever since the drug wars with the Cartels and the U.S.A. broke out in the early 90s. The dead have been stacked up, the government is non-existant and the Cartels run the streets. That's how Fake ended up in the U.S. his gang was wiped out in mexico. The details specifically are vague but it was a violent way to go and by the Feds themselves. Cybergrunts, torture, the kind of stuff that would keep you away from the U.S.A right? Wrong, they call him Fake ID for a reason. He came to the U.S. with forged documents and has been here ever since.
He never stayed too long in each state, he lived job by job. Hitting corps, dealing cyberware. It was all in the gig, or so they say. His crew was never the same for each job and the law was closing in on him. That's when he met Intersprinter in Night City - city of dreams some say. One of the best deckers in the state of NorCal he helped Fake ID stay under the radar. There's some missing bits, omitted or covered up with Intersprinter's help thus keeping Fake in the shadows once again.
Now he's in Night City and there is a job that needs to be done - no, a mission. Take over the damn city, it'll be the start of something great. What if you didn't have to work anymore, you got your money from the lackies below you and they the same? If you could live how you wanted, without the cops or anyone on you back. Get what you want when you want, not a care in the world. For Fake ID, this was the new American Dream. He was so close to grabbing it, all he needed was a team.
ARMED IN THE ONE AND TWENTY
- Kalishnikov A-80 Hvy. Rifle
- Door Gunner Vest
...AND THE REST
Fake ID sometimes gives out a strange vibe.
caliban22 King of the badgers
Member
Seen
5 yrs ago
Isabella 'Bella' Lopez Street name Echo
"Get between us...you die."
LOOKS
Isabella stands at 5'6 with black hair that has dark purple highlights. She wears dark blue ripped skinny jeans, an old rock T-shirt and a Pull over a navy blue hoodie with light purple lining. Usually she will wear a beanie or baseball cap. While "working" she will wear a balaclava to hide her identity.
She is in very good shape and is considered pretty. She is mexican and Columbian decent.
PSYCHE
To the criminal underworld Isabella is cruelty made manifest with a desire for money that could never be quenched. Capable of breaking some ones face with only a slight annoyance as to knowing she may have have to kill her partner for a bigger share. In private she hates herself, often showing signs of depression and self destructive tendencies she spiralled into alcoholism and drug use. It wasn't until she met her now adopted children. She since devoted her life to caring for and providing a better life for them.
HEAT
Several small time "gangs" have beef with her. Pretty much unknown by most.
STREET CRED
Small time gang enforcer. Other then a few small groups of people shes a nobody, just another person making money.
THE STORY
Once upon a time Isabella was a nobody, one of many children who were the alone and forgotten that roamed the streets at night looking for money or food within the city. Everyday was a struggle to just exist in this hellish life she lived. A fighter by nature Isabella refused to go quietly die in a gutter some where, or on hee back in some cheap motel looking for that next score. no Isabella was determined to make something of herself, but to do that she needed money and power...she needed a gang.
Starting out small Isabella took to the life of crime quickly. At first it was distracting marks so other members of the gang could do their work and finding information for the gang. Slowly over the next many years her crimes became more and more violent.
Soon she ran enforcement for a small time operation participating in various skirmishes and shoot outs that come with the job.
Even though Isabella life a violent life, she hates that she has to smash in the face of a guy refusing pay tribute. Slowly bit by bit the life was ruining her. Driven to drinking and drugs it was gonna be a matter of time before she put a bullet in her brain.
It wasn't until one night when after a shoot out in an alleyway Bloody and battered she stubbled unto a small child little more then a baby crying wrapped in a blanket in a bag. For the last 13 years she has raised the child like her own.
ARMED IN THE ONE AND TWENTY
Weapons: Militech ronin light assault rifle, militech avenger
Body armor:M-78 RPA heavy vest, ballistic nylon helmet.
...AND THE REST
Roman Catholic
Adopted a young child she found homeless on the street named Dominic
Rebirth Roleplay idea generator
Member
Seen
6 yrs ago
Vincent "Sixer" Royalt
"How's about we shake on it?"
LOOKS
Sixer is a weasel in every sense of the word. Taller than most at 6'3, his dark eyes constantly flit over his surroundings hunting for shadows in the perpetual night. A shadow of a beard lies over his face and clashes terribly with his gleaming white teeth. He slicks back his thin black hair, but you'd never be able to tell because of the worn grey newsboy cap he wears at all times. His prized possession is his "lucky jacket" which on closer inspection reveals dozens of hidden compartments and holsters sown into the bulletproof fabric. His defining trait is his deformed right hand, which has an additional 6th finger on it.
PSYCHE
Most people wouldn't be able to tell you about Sixer, not even his real name. At the very most they could you in which backstreet alley they met up with the strange, beanpole of a man. In truth he's a Fixer who doesn't rip people off, which is a weird and rare breed these days. His wits and charm are the only thing keeping him alive, since his looks certainly aren't doing any favors. Vinny prefers to stay out of the limelight, and would prefer to be on his enemies good side before the fight even starts.
HEAT
If you've even heard of Sixer, chances are you're buying from him.
STREET CRED
Oh maybe just a small timer now, but he's got plans.
THE STORY
Vincent was never a special kid, born by a prostitute without money for the pill. He grew up alongside the other faceless urchins that fed off of each other to stay alive. Really just typical in every way, that is until they started to take notice of his "defect". The teasing was bearable at first, but then the beatings started and poor 10 year old "Sixer" had no favors left to cash in. Starving and alone he wandered into a dark alleyway and witnessed what would be his retribution.
A deal gone bad, some small time booster gang wanted quickstimms, and fast. Unfortunately this particular Fixer was a bit too trusting and instead of some scratch in his outstretched hand he got the business end of a shiv. The punk had taken everything of value from the poor upstart, but left his jacket behind. Quickly the kid scurried over to the still warm corpse and tugged the jacket off the waster.
From then on Vincent Royalt was no more. Instead, small timers in the ghettos spoke about a new supplier on the streets. Nothing more than another Fixer, competing for resources and money just like everybody. Except this time the handshake was a bit different. Sure he may just be a street peddler now, but he has plans of greatness. And all Sixer needs is a gang.
ARMED IN THE ONE AND TWENTY
-jacket filled with various contraband, drugs and other small tools
- 10 mm glock, 3 extra cartridges
- Butterfly knife, dubbed "Slick"
...AND THE REST
Has connections with several small, lesser known gangs and a various assortment of other Fixers, dealers, and suppliers. Has a strong belief that the number 6 is lucky.
GreenGoat Harmless Flower Person
Member
Seen
2 yrs ago
Eva Fosfograv Vasilev
"Orders...?"
LOOKS
A woman of average height of 167cm, her toned body contrasts heavily against the chrome she sports; cyberwear lacking subtlety and finesse, black metal against skin. Her hair changed colors by the day, sometimes by the hour, though the light and colors can be muted if she so wished. Black segmented balance tail would swish behind her as she walked, poking through either a hole in her clothing, or just poking out from under her skirt if applicable. The chrome she sports are obviously milspec to anyone casually inspecting them. Tends to wear clothing similar to what Edgerunners wear; militant looking, well used clothing with the odd holes here and there. Not out of any real desire to show off, but simply because she couldn't find money to spare to have them repaired.
PSYCHE
She was the type of person that rarely emotes, speaks little, and does orders as she was told. The kinda person one would expect a low classed grunt would be. 'Cept she wasn't a low class grunt or doorstopper, she was one of the foolish kids who went willingly into the Cyberwars, lured in by the prospect of looking swish. First it was just the tail and eyes, but the repeated tours as a Covertgrunt took more than just her limbs from her. Annabelle was quiet, suffering from PTSD, and barely spoke a word, but once ordered to do something, she would tear apart any drekhead foolish enough to step in her way without a second thought. She seemed to actively seek conflict, as if trying to drown her thoughts in more conflict to avoid thinking about it. A self destructive behaviour to be sure, one she was aware of, but one she cannot stop herself from doing.
HEAT
Some boosters perhaps, she had done some wet works on them before. Probably the government as well, though she wasn't actually any important grunt.
STREET CRED
Small time. She had just started getting back into the swing of things.
THE STORY
A young girl, still naive and innocent, joins the Cyberwars as part of the covert Elite Mechanized Combat Force.
For what reasons, Eva had long forgotten. The blood on her hands, the people she had killed, the people she had fought beside, the people who died in her arms, none of those technically exists. She did not exists. Cybergrunts were, after all, simply hogwash. They never sent her to fight in far away countries in covert wars. Even if they did, it was all for the country's interest, for the good of all in it. Patriotism, my girl! Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country! Look, free cybers. All you needed to do was just one tour, and all of these will be yours for no charge at all.
Just one more tour, and you can leave.
Just one more tour, and she can go home.
Always one more tour. One more tour did not seem at all that daunting when she was lying in a pool of her own blood, one of her torn limbs lying on her own lap. Go home a cripple, or do just one more tour and get a spanking new cyberlimb free. It wasn't long before she got stuck in a vicious cycle of these, each tour taking a piece away from her. Both figuratively and literally. There was no leaving as well, considering the chips they installed in one of her cybers to ensure her obedience.
Soon enough, she was resigned to the life, having now a few tours under her belt, with only her torso and head being meat. Eva had, by now, racked up a reputation in her unit for being efficient at heavy weaponry, and close quarters combat. She did have some skills in jacking security and netrunning, but she wasn't anywhere close to be any sort of hot shit tiger at it. Instead, she ran the panzers, if there was any given to them; she was supposed to be covert ops after all.
Oddly enough, her salvation came in the form of a mission gone FUBAR. One where she took several shots to the body before an ACPA damn near crushed her arms before one of her more trigger happy colleagues unloaded a warhead on it. She woke up later on, just barely alive amidst the corpses left there. After patching herself up, she waited there for quite some time before realizing no one was going to come for her. Even her comms were silent. Whatever happened during the fight had fried or damaged the chips embedded in her body enough to make them think she was dead.
To cut a long story short, she salvaged what she could from there, managing to scrape enough together to repair herself, and remove any of those chips still left in her body so she could finally run from this job. After long years of being on tour, she finally returned home. However, she was unable to really find work she was able to do, and just scraping enough together for a coffin and some kibbles wasn't the life she wanted to live. Without any other real skills to work with, she turned back to murdering for euros. She didn't have much in gears, considering she sold everything on her out of her eagerness to escape that life, and she certainly wasn't fond of killing more when she finally escaped her life. But hey, anything was better than having to become a meat puppet.
ARMED IN THE ONE AND TWENTY
Her most prominent equipments were the cyberwares she sports. Both arms had been replaced with obvious bulky Soviet looking black cybers, complete with the hydraulic rams they commonly have, and ripper hands. The balance tail looks skeletal in design, as well as being bulky as well. It can be used as an extra limb, but its intended use was for housing the cybermodem link on it, allowing her to jack into the net or a vehicle. Her no frills blackened cyberlegs were standard. All cyberlimbs are covered with ballistic plastic. The only subtle parts of her chromes are the bone and muscle lacing, and the speedware installed on her body. Other than that, she has a heavy jacket, a light autopistol(the Dai Lung Cybermag 15) and a few boxes of ammo for it.
Gotta start from somewhere, right?
...AND THE REST
She has a backpack for all her other miscellaneous things like kibbles and credchips. Generic prepacks were hidden deep inside it like treasure.
LordofthePies A Mess
Member
Seen
6 yrs ago
Ronan Smith
“And here was Ronan, like a heart attack that never stopped.”
LOOKS
Either nearly bald or has a very short haircut
Sometimes will let his hair grow out, but not by much
Sharp features
Cheekbones that could cut someone
Metal stud in his left ear
White, clean teeth he takes pride in
Shark eyes. The kind you can look in and only see bloodlust
PSYCHE
Violence and rage was something Ronan grew into. He didn't have it as a child, but after beating a kid half to death he decided he liked the feeling. He's unapologetic and angry but doesn't mean he doesn't lack empathy. He hates most people, but the people he does like he treats like family and will protect them until the very end. He doesn't ever back down from a fight or challenge, but he never plays fair. Ronan has no respect for the law and does whatever he wants whenever he wants to. Ronan craves violence like a drug and can start a fight in an empty room.
HEAT
The owner of a small corp. (that no longer exists, thanks to Ronan's efforts) that he helped take down and steal from. They can't do too much, but they hold a serious grudge.
Local police, mainly because he's known for starting brawls and disturbing the peace.
STREET CRED
Small-Time
He's known by local police as someone who likes to start fights, whether it's in a bar, on the street, or in a home. He's also hated by a small corporation owner, but other than that he's not known for much.
THE STORY
Ronan is from a family of wandering gypsies. When he was little, his mother, Irene took him around the country. They only settled down in Studio City when she got sick. Irene found out she had lung cancer when Ronan was about 16 and didn't tell him about it until he asked why they had a permanent home. He tried to get a basic job, but his efforts combined with the small trickle of income the gypsy business gave wasn't enough. Ronan began selling drugs for a small-time dealer. He got 25% of his sales, but it was enough to pay for his mom's treatments and then some. Although, his efforts were in vain. Cancer got her, and Irene died a few years later.
After his mother's death, his violent tendencies got worse. He actually had something to fight about. Ronan used the funds he got from selling drugs to get him out of trouble, but after fighting with a few customers the dealer dropped him. He had no dignity, no pride, and nothing to keep him out of trouble. He began stealing, which quickly escalated to him becoming a mugger. Ronan used the pay for food and a cheap house, but spent the rest on drugs to ease his pain. He doesn't do anything that would mess him up too badly, just things that keep him high enough to keep him from thinking about his mom.
Ronan now takes out his anger on his targets. He's a mercenary that doesn't really care who he needs to take down. He'll kill anyone, except for kids. He draws the line at children, although that won't stop him from taking their parents. He still does drugs, but they're mostly party drugs now. His memories of his mother are fading, now that is the focus is on his work, along with staying alive. Ronan also tries not to take contracts that are put on his friends, but he only has a few. He'll take down those he's less attached to, or he'll just break them apart and tell them to never come back. Ronan prefers to take, "teach them a lesson," jobs. Those are the ones where he can really let himself go, although he sometimes forgets that he's not meant to be beating them to death. Most of his friends are in the blood business or they're owners of bars and clubs. His friends aren't powerful, but they're family, and he wouldn't trade them for the world.
ARMED IN THE ONE AND TWENTY
Butterfly knife
Metal baseball bat he's named after his mother, the center of most of his anger.
Ruger SR1911, used for basic hits.
Synthetic Nerves. They aren't as good as normal nerve endings, but they fix the damage that drugs caused.
Electronic Contacts. A pair of contacts that make darkness less of a problem. Less light is needed to see in the dark with the help of the contacts.
...AND THE REST
Either nearly bald or has a very short haircut
Sometimes will let his hair grow out, but not by much
Sharp features
Cheekbones that could cut someone
Metal stud in his left ear
White, clean teeth he takes pride in
Shark eyes. The kind you can look in and only see bloodlust
PSYCHE
Violence and rage was something Ronan grew into. He didn't have it as a child, but after beating a kid half to death he decided he liked the feeling. He's unapologetic and angry but doesn't mean he doesn't lack empathy. He hates most people, but the people he does like he treats like family and will protect them until the very end. He doesn't ever back down from a fight or challenge, but he never plays fair. Ronan has no respect for the law and does whatever he wants whenever he wants to. Ronan craves violence like a drug and can start a fight in an empty room.
HEAT
The owner of a small corp. (that no longer exists, thanks to Ronan's efforts) that he helped take down and steal from. They can't do too much, but they hold a serious grudge.
Local police, mainly because he's known for starting brawls and disturbing the peace.
STREET CRED
Small-Time
He's known by local police as someone who likes to start fights, whether it's in a bar, on the street, or in a home. He's also hated by a small corporation owner, but other than that he's not known for much.
THE STORY
Ronan is from a family of wandering gypsies. When he was little, his mother, Irene took him around the country. They only settled down in Studio City when she got sick. Irene found out she had lung cancer when Ronan was about 16 and didn't tell him about it until he asked why they had a permanent home. He tried to get a basic job, but his efforts combined with the small trickle of income the gypsy business gave wasn't enough. Ronan began selling drugs for a small-time dealer. He got 25% of his sales, but it was enough to pay for his mom's treatments and then some. Although, his efforts were in vain. Cancer got her, and Irene died a few years later.
After his mother's death, his violent tendencies got worse. He actually had something to fight about. Ronan used the funds he got from selling drugs to get him out of trouble, but after fighting with a few customers the dealer dropped him. He had no dignity, no pride, and nothing to keep him out of trouble. He began stealing, which quickly escalated to him becoming a mugger. Ronan used the pay for food and a cheap house, but spent the rest on drugs to ease his pain. He doesn't do anything that would mess him up too badly, just things that keep him high enough to keep him from thinking about his mom.
Ronan now takes out his anger on his targets. He's a mercenary that doesn't really care who he needs to take down. He'll kill anyone, except for kids. He draws the line at children, although that won't stop him from taking their parents. He still does drugs, but they're mostly party drugs now. His memories of his mother are fading, now that is the focus is on his work, along with staying alive. Ronan also tries not to take contracts that are put on his friends, but he only has a few. He'll take down those he's less attached to, or he'll just break them apart and tell them to never come back. Ronan prefers to take, "teach them a lesson," jobs. Those are the ones where he can really let himself go, although he sometimes forgets that he's not meant to be beating them to death. Most of his friends are in the blood business or they're owners of bars and clubs. His friends aren't powerful, but they're family, and he wouldn't trade them for the world.
ARMED IN THE ONE AND TWENTY
Butterfly knife
Metal baseball bat he's named after his mother, the center of most of his anger.
Ruger SR1911, used for basic hits.
Synthetic Nerves. They aren't as good as normal nerve endings, but they fix the damage that drugs caused.
Electronic Contacts. A pair of contacts that make darkness less of a problem. Less light is needed to see in the dark with the help of the contacts.
...AND THE REST
"Local ones at least, the corporate police stay in their corporate zones while the big boys do the rest of the work. NCPD is funded by Night City's city council which seems to have an endless fund for the police department. The corps pitch in, probably to keep the NCPD off them and off their corporate police. That isn't the problem though, they are too spread thin as it is. So many districts, most rookie officers are sent off to the combat zones where they fight the booster gangs, the crazies and the occasional corporate security team. For the most part, they are well trained, brutal and don't take any shit. Some can be nice, but can you really trust anyone these days? They use to be on the corner of every street, but look what the city is doin' to them? They've turned into savages."
-People to be wary of
-People to be wary of
Solos - are ex-military, killers, hitmen, assassins. All for hire, they live and die by the sword and the gun. You point and they shoot. Doesn't matter who if the money is right, they pull the trigger and don't look back. Allegiance is from wire transfer to wire transfer, they usually work for the corps some on contract while others as security forces.
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