Name: Richard Johnson Aliases: Richie, Dick, āSkidmarkā. Age: 28 Birthday: Not important Ethnicity: Caucasian Birth Place: Prattville, Alabama Location: New York City, New York Gender: Male Major/Minor: N/A Occupation: Goon, Street Thug, Biker Languages: English and bad English
Appearance
Height: 6ā1ā Weight: 225lbs Build: Muscular and toned Eyes: Light blue Hair: Dirty blonde Skin Tone: Lightly tanned tone Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: He has a tombstone tattoo on his right forearm with the name of his best friend that died because of his actions during a job pre-outbreak, he has a tattoo on his left forearm of the name of his brother (Thomas) which runs down the length from elbow to wrist, there is another tattoo on his right shoulder blade of a pair of roses with one having petals of red and the other having black. He has countless scars all over his body but the most notable one is a scar that runs from under his right pectoral down to his hip bone from a motorcycle accident. The same accident gave him the circular scar on the front and back of his left thigh. He also has some small noticeable scars on his face from various fist fights but none are particularly exceptional fortunately.
Psychology
Charismatic * Devious * Scrupulous * Sordid
Sexuality: Straight as a board Relationship Status: N/A Personality: Richard is not the most lovable type of person once you see his true colours. Heās the kind of guy that can easily rub a person the wrong way just by breathing once you get to really know him. He has a smug, self-serving attitude around him and it tends to make people very wary of him even if he can talk his way in. As heās a very meticulous kind of person, heās constantly thinking and working out different scenarios in his head.
Heās got a hell of a temper but you wonāt ever know that until itās too late. Heās got a voice thatād melt butter and looks to boot. He can worm himself into anywhere or anyone. He likes a challenge and doesnāt ever back down from a fight. He calculates everything that he does and has gotten particularly good at covering his tracks as time has went on with this world. He is just one of those guys that you donāt think you should trust, but canāt help giving him the chance when he knocks the door to come in. Habits: He frowns a lot when he thinks, he cracks his knuckles just in general, he spits randomly on the ground on purpose when talking to people and picks his teeth with his nails after a meal. Hobbies: Biking, gambling, drinking, smoking Fears: (Other than infection and an early death.)
Being mauled by a wild animal
Spiders ā disgusting little shits
The day he can no longer drive a bike
Likes:
Gambling
Drinking
Smoking
Adult ārelationsā ā Especially one thatās a challenge to get
Biking
Meat
Dislikes:
Spiders
Queers
Ethnics
Wild animals that have the ability to eat him
Not having a smoke
Weakness
Cards On The Table
Pre Outbreak Skills:
Car and Motorcycle Maintenance and Use
Shotguns ā Weapon of choice as a goon
Street fighting
People reading ā from years of poker playing
Enhanced strength ā 10 years of weight lifting does that to a person
Post Outbreak Skills:
Hunting
Survival skills
Pistols
Knives
Wilderness Evasion (basically covering his tracks)
Current Supplies:
Current Clothing ā slate grey denim jeans, stained white t-shirt, navy blue plaid shirt with long sleeves, black hoodie, leather vest with his biker patches on it, thick grey boot socks, black studded biker boots.
Worn brown leather backpack
Hip flask with moonshine x1
500ml plastic bottles filled with water x3
Tins of food x4
Basic survival kit ā 1x box of matches (13 left), wire, 1x roll of duct tape, 1x small bag cotton wool, 2x sheets of adhesive gauze, 1x antiseptic wipe, gas lighter (half full), 1x sheet of aspirin.
Richie was in the middle of knocking over a convenience store, shotgun in hand, when he first saw a walker. The owner was behind the desk, Richieās barrel pointed straight at his chest, as he grabbed bill after bill and shoved them into the duffle bag that had been thrown at him across the counter.
He was distracted and kept peering out the windows, checking to see if the cops were nearby. The owner moved to zip the bag up when Richie demanded he put cartons of cigarettes into the bag as well. He was shouting at the owner so he hadnāt heard the shuffling and groaning from the back room. The owner, having now spotted what was his shelf boy, screamed in terror as the kid lunged at Richie from behind.
If it werenāt for his vest, Richie never would have made it out of that store. He swung an elbow round and clocked the kid square on the temple, knocking him into a magazine rack. That didnāt stop him for long. Turning round now, the shotgun facing towards the kid, Richie threatened him and told him to step off. The kid didnāt listen. Richie didnāt want to but he had to. The kid lunged at Richie again and the shot rang out in the store. The shot hit the kid from about a foot away and knocked him back a few steps.
He didnāt stop coming. His chest was fucking mincemeat! The kid was snarling and clawing at the air as he ran towards Richie again. He had no choice. Richie aimed higher and shot the kid square in the face. The kid smacked backwards onto the ground. Blood and brain matter had sprayed everywhere. Richie turned round, grabbed the duffle bag and made a run for it out of the store and didnāt look back.
History Before Outbreak:
He was born in a place called Prattville, Alabama. His dad was a drunk, his mother didnāt give a ratās ass. His big brother raised him and took care of him. Thomas was only five years older than Richie but he seemed much older. They were lucky not to be taken away by social services but no one around Prattville even cared. They were all the same; drunks, junkies, whores, wasters and criminals. No one cared about anyone but themselves around there.
As kids they basically got themselves into all sorts of shit and ended up running with the wrong crowd. Richie was always into his cars and motorcycles and stole more than his fair share of each, breaking them down for parts and building them back up again. Richie also grew sick of relying on his brother for protection when he got into fights so he began weightlifting at around age fifteen.
He even managed to make his first real friend after beating him up over a game of baseball. His name was Tony. They got on like a house on fire and were pretty much inseparable after that. Tommy actually got a little jealous until he got to know Tony too and the three of them became quite a team until the worst came to pass.
Tony and Richie were bored one day and decided itād be fun to ride one of the motorcycles through some disused fields. Itād be fun, Tony said. So they made out and began messing around; Richie driving and Tony as the passenger.
Richie decided to go through a field that led towards the forest edge. He shouldnāt have done that. There was a rabbit burrow that the front wheel ploughed into it and sent Tony and Richie flying forward. The next thing Richie knew, he was in a hospital bed. He could barely move, it hurt to breathe and his vision was blurry. When he was fully awake and not high on pain meds, Richie found out that Tony was dead. Heād killed his best friend, even if it was an accident it didnāt matter, that weight rested on Richieās heart heavily.
He was in hospital for six months healing and had to go through a long stint of physical therapy. Tommy was there for him every step of the way. Richie didnāt get charged with vehicular manslaughter because it was a complete accident. Richie was seriously lucky not to be arrested for what happened.
As time moved on they got in with an even more disreputable sort that said he could set them up in NYC and get them a decent job. Thus Richieās life as a goon for hire began. They worked minor jobs, ripping stores off, collecting debts that hadnāt been paid; the sort of shit youād see in any generic gangster movie.
He was good at what he did and earned a decent amount of money doing it but most of that was squandered on booze, cigs, gambling and whores. It wasnāt much but Richie enjoyed his life.
History Since Outbreak:
After leaving the store heād just hit, Richie found his brother Tommy and told him what had happened. Tommy figured they had to get out of town and they packed up and hit the road. It was then that the news began spreading about this infection.
They made their way out of NYC as quickly as possible and drifted from place to place, avoiding busy areas, sticking to the woods as much as they could manage. They hunted for food and it was a good job that they knew how to. Theyād had to learn after years of feeding themselves since their folks didnāt give a flying fuck. But food soon became harder to hunt as walkers at anything with a pulse.
Richie decided to go out and scavenge some while Tommy rested. Richie found a camp of other survivors sleeping in their tents. They had supplies of food justā¦ laying there. Richie couldnāt help himself. He went back to Tommy with his haul as fast as he could, but didnāt think to cover his tracks well enough for a tracker to not be able to find him. What would the chances be of a tracker being in the group anyway? Especially with the world being the shit show that it now was.
Tommy congratulated Richie on his haul but stopped when noises came from the direction that Richie had. Tommy told Richie to hide up a tree, quickly and quietly, while he dealt with this. Tommy bent down and did his boot lace up.
The survivors werenāt happy, they were a bunch of big guys, angry and mean looking. Tommy tried to diffuse the situation, saying he had nothing but what was on his back and that he was alone. They didnāt believe him. They began to beat on him, Tommy fought as much as he could but was overpowered and outmanned. Richie was too afraid to do anything. He was rooted to the spot in fear. His need for self-preservation won out over his love for his brother. Tommy was a beaten, bloody pulp on the ground.
The guys stole Tommyās leather jacket and his boots before laughing and making their way off, looking for their stolen goods hidden in a tree log somewhere. After a short while, Richie climbed down and went to Tommy. He wasnāt going to make it. Tommy asked Richie to kill him, he didnāt want to lay here and bleed out, and he didnāt want to become Walker chow while he couldnāt do anything to stop it. The sheer thought of it was terrifying. Richie eventually agreed, albeit reluctantly, to kill Tommy and save him the horror and pain. After all was said and done, Richie grabbed his stuff and left Tommyās body lying on the forest floor.
Eventually, months later, Richie happened upon the same group that had killed his brother. He recognised his brotherās jacket on one of the fucktards. He decided he wanted them to suffer. He worked his way into the group, he became trusted and part of the group. He hung around with them for a couple months, waiting for the right opportunity.
It finally came in the shape of a herd. The group was aiming to be quiet and avoid drawing attention to themselves. They were hiding in abandoned cars on the highway but Richie had slipped away and hidden up a tree. He had a small bottle of whiskey that heād been nursing for a month now. Heād planned to drink it when these fuckers were dead but this would be worth it.
He made a makeshift Molotov out of it and threw it on one of the cars near where the rest were hiding. The flames did the rest. The walker herd descending on the men and ripped them apart. This was his life now. Richie knew this was how he would live. Other people were good for nothing but cannon fodder after long. He would use them to get what he wanted and move on. Simple as that.
This routine repeated a lot over the next couple years. Although one particular group really stood out to him. There was a group of three women; one had a fucking katana, one had a blasted bow and the other little one had a fucking AK-47. These were a good, but possibly difficult target. He found them in a wooded area in Georgia.
It took a lot of convincing, especially since the chick with the katana had a serious stick up her ass, but eventually Richie convinced them to let him join their band of merry women. They travelled together for a fortnight and in this time, Richie noticed that the one with the bow had a lingering eye on the katana lover at times. There was a challenge, besides, women couldnāt be queer. It was just a phase.
The katana one, Lauren or Laura or some shit, said he and the bowman were to go on a run for supplies. This was his time to make a move. When they got there, Richie made his advances on her but was soon shot down. No way was it going down like that. He persisted until she had had enough and they began to fight. Richie figured heād have the upper hand there but the noise of their fight was drawing walkers their way.
A few shuffled into the shop and made towards them both. Richie and Mary, Marie, Mariaā¦ something like that, let go of each other and started fighting the walkers off but more kept coming. It was then that Richie realised this was going to end badly for him. He decided that she had to die. Her necklace had got caught on his cuff while they were fighting. As he āstruggledā with a walker he let a shot off that grazed her leg. Sheād soon be eaten. He popped another round off into the head of the walker he was holding onto and then made a break for it out of the back door.
He made his way back to the other two chicks and told them what happened. Showed them the necklace. The katana chick decided to snatch the necklace away and started telling him to leave. So he did. He took his gear and he left the same way as heād came. He was a little disappointed he hadnāt been able to land one of them but such was life now. Heād find another, he always did.
He eventually ended up forming a group with some people he seemed to constantly see from a distance and sometimes from nearby. The group grew little by little and eventually became nine. There was nothing but fights and disagreements. This was going to be fun.
Extras
Character Quote: āStep off.ā āLord almighty.ā āSpare me your bullshit.ā āYou gettinā wise with me?ā Theme Song:This. :D How Many Walkers Have You Killed: āFucked if I know.ā How Many People Have You Killed: āI aināt killed no one, the walkers are the killers here, not me.ā Why: āWhy get my own hands dirty when I donāt need to?ā Anything Else: PM'd the GM
*By submitting this CS in its completion I am stating I have read all the rules for this Rp and am agreeing to follow them to the fullest with respect and courtesy.
@Charnobylisk Okay, one - not fair using a hottie as an asshole! Two, if it weren't for the ethnicity thing I could see Viv and him getting along like two fucking peas in a pod LOL. Three, him and James are going to be funny as hell interacting. Four, so I take it you want him as part one of the asshole group? Lol Five, Richard Johnson is my uncle's name, lmao!
@Lady Amalthea 1) I couldn't resist! It means I can play him more smooth like. (It was almost Bruce Willis btw) 2) Hey, he's racist but he's also a sexist prick. If he thinks he can score, he'll do it. 3) I KNOW! I need to sort that out with @Sigil really soon. :P 4) Yes please. Asshole Group Numero Uno, por favor. 5) LOL! I'm sorry. The name was too perfect though... Dick "Dickie" Dickson #sorrynotsorry :D
Also woot, I shall move this mofo to the Character tab.
My first thoughts were "What a dickwad!" and "How did he craft his beard so well?!" God, Bob is going to hate him. Jonas... either avoiding him entirely or working his way into his heart although I doubt the latter strategy would succeed XD
@SgtEasy I think it would take longer and be extremely risky cuz of walkers, herds, bad/horrible and the wrong crowd. But totally up to bosslady just gave my two cents.
And all relations for Maria are up right now at least those who have messaged me I left Victoria and Jonas out for now since Maria hasnt meant them yet. Same as Kristina cuz she hasn't met the others yet.
@SgtEasy@Nallore Actually within the confines of the tv show it is possible. I won't say how I know since some have yet to watch the series in full but it is possible; so I will allow it.
Alright, working on a "supply list" and map for Newnan for the RP - this will help us keep track of what we have, what we need, where everything is, where people sleep and so forth. This list we will keep up with through out the RP; what we use, what gets stolen, what gets lost, things that get destroyed because of this reason or that; what could be quick to grab; evacuation plans and so forth. Will put it up as I complete it. (Certain things will purposefully be left off as to help us drive the story forward and push runs.)
