I was wondering if I could change one of my perks to Jury Rigging.
Marcus XVI Member
STATUS: Just because you can have 36 attacks per turn that threaten a crit on a roll of 14+ doesn't mean it's worth doing. 6 yrs ago
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- Old Guild Username: Marcus XVI
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- Marcus XVI 11 yrs ago
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Just because you can have 36 attacks per turn that threaten a crit on a roll of 14+ doesn't mean it's worth doing.
8 yrs ago
Purple, because aliens wear red hats.
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10 yrs ago
Isn't it weird how you can start a private conversation with yourself?
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Then the fight began - by Max's estimate someone had made their way to the tower, probably to give support fire to the kid. With a little resigned sigh the old man stayed in place for a few seconds longer - to hear several shots form what by his experience were from a 9mm handgun of some kind. Then with a little grin he took a proper aim at one of the slavers - one out of a pair hiding behind some dumpsters.
The unnerving little 'thup' of the gauss pistol was not very loud, however the second slaver had amazingly not lost his nerve when his compatriot's brains were scattered to the pavement. "There's more of em!" The fellow had yelled out while swiftly turning on his heels and began pouring fire towards Max's rough direction.
Max managed to pull himself in to cover just in time. He waited patiently, the slaver types usually emptied the whole magazine to make sure the fellow they were after was dead - or at least they used to back in the day. The slaver however was smarter than the average slavers back west and had taken cover to reload before resuming firing. The old man mumbled something under his breath and took a deep breath before spinning out of his cover and firing two shots towards the slaver.
The slaver got hit by both shots - one hit him on the left shoulder and the second one punctured his left arm. Amazingly he was still alive, but dazed - not quite able to believe his own luck. Max straightened up while drawing the slightly curving blade from his back and still keeping the gauss pistol fixed on the slaver.
The unnerving little 'thup' of the gauss pistol was not very loud, however the second slaver had amazingly not lost his nerve when his compatriot's brains were scattered to the pavement. "There's more of em!" The fellow had yelled out while swiftly turning on his heels and began pouring fire towards Max's rough direction.
Max managed to pull himself in to cover just in time. He waited patiently, the slaver types usually emptied the whole magazine to make sure the fellow they were after was dead - or at least they used to back in the day. The slaver however was smarter than the average slavers back west and had taken cover to reload before resuming firing. The old man mumbled something under his breath and took a deep breath before spinning out of his cover and firing two shots towards the slaver.
The slaver got hit by both shots - one hit him on the left shoulder and the second one punctured his left arm. Amazingly he was still alive, but dazed - not quite able to believe his own luck. Max straightened up while drawing the slightly curving blade from his back and still keeping the gauss pistol fixed on the slaver.
Now I just have to choose between being a ballsy old coot and just wading my way up to a standoff, or sneakily opening fire on the bad guys.
His eyes had seen so many places - Navarro, Boneyard, Citadel, heck even Dog City and the Pitt to boot. New York was all of them and nothing like them. Still there were all sorts of raiders and slavers and other people who disturbed the peace. Once again there seemed to be something going on - a fight of some kind, maybe a standoff of some kind. Max had been in standoffs in the past, it was the one combat situation he actually liked since there was the slight chance of talking your way out from it.
Admittedly he had seen many things, but a seemingly tame Yao Guai was not one of them. For the time being the old man decided to stay as hidden as possible and simply readied his Gauss Pistol in case there would be trouble. Max hadn't quite chosen a side yet - after all if the fight would really break out the most important thing was self preservation - silently he admitted that the kid who had the slaver's guns pointed at him had that familiar sense of bravado about him. Max liked people with bravado - be it more hollow than a raider with no brains. Admittedly he himself had a load of bravado - some of which he was about to throw away.
Admittedly he had gotten a bit worse at sneaking over the years, but still he began making his way closer to Par and the slavers while doing his best to remain undetected.
Admittedly he had seen many things, but a seemingly tame Yao Guai was not one of them. For the time being the old man decided to stay as hidden as possible and simply readied his Gauss Pistol in case there would be trouble. Max hadn't quite chosen a side yet - after all if the fight would really break out the most important thing was self preservation - silently he admitted that the kid who had the slaver's guns pointed at him had that familiar sense of bravado about him. Max liked people with bravado - be it more hollow than a raider with no brains. Admittedly he himself had a load of bravado - some of which he was about to throw away.
Admittedly he had gotten a bit worse at sneaking over the years, but still he began making his way closer to Par and the slavers while doing his best to remain undetected.
I added perks and flaws to my character.
Name= Max Sawyer "The Old Man from the West"
Age= 66
Looks (picture optional)= At first glance Max seems just like most of the old scroungers that have been lucky to live to old age. His face - though still handsome - is lined with marks of age and scars from past battles. His grayish-blue eyes have a curious spark to them and his long black hair - though notably graying - refuses to thin with age.
Personality= Max is quite the storyteller, admittedly most take his stories with the proverbial pinch of salt since the stories oftentimes sound very much exaggerated. He is as polite as possible and usually prefers to take care of matters with diplomacy instead of bullets.
Faction= Wastelander/Unaligned
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength-4
Perception-7
Endurance-3
Charisma-7
Intelligence-8
Agility-4
Luck-10
Perks
Sharpshooter
Sniper
Demolition Expert
Cautious Nature
Flaws
Old age, Old enemies - Max seems to have enemies everywhere, mostly old enemies still haunting him. Some have even followed through the wasteland and some have just taken new guises in the east.
Backstory=
Max has had many names and homes in his lifetime. If he is to be believed he was born somewhere in California during the early days of the New California Republic, before the First Battle of Hoover Dam even. His travels took him to many places - San Francisco, New Vegas and even through Dog City in Colorado. He also claims that he visited Washington D.C. a few years back with a salvaged vertibird, but when questioned further about where getting the flying vehicle he just changes the topic.
Eventually Max's travels took him to New York - though he insists he's planning on moving further east, to Boston, or other such place. However he has shown no sign of actually moving from New York for the time being - perhaps due to the rumors about the Enclave being present in the area.
Weapon of choice= PPK12 Gauss pistol and a large curved blade that has obviously had a much larger hilt at some point. Both weapons are in poor condition.
Any other info not included in the above= Max wears a tattered duster over what seems like a vault suit. When the curved blade is not hanging from his back the letter 3 can be seen from one of the cuts and either a 1 or a 7.
Age= 66
Looks (picture optional)= At first glance Max seems just like most of the old scroungers that have been lucky to live to old age. His face - though still handsome - is lined with marks of age and scars from past battles. His grayish-blue eyes have a curious spark to them and his long black hair - though notably graying - refuses to thin with age.
Personality= Max is quite the storyteller, admittedly most take his stories with the proverbial pinch of salt since the stories oftentimes sound very much exaggerated. He is as polite as possible and usually prefers to take care of matters with diplomacy instead of bullets.
Faction= Wastelander/Unaligned
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength-4
Perception-7
Endurance-3
Charisma-7
Intelligence-8
Agility-4
Luck-10
Perks
Sharpshooter
Sniper
Demolition Expert
Cautious Nature
Flaws
Old age, Old enemies - Max seems to have enemies everywhere, mostly old enemies still haunting him. Some have even followed through the wasteland and some have just taken new guises in the east.
Backstory=
Max has had many names and homes in his lifetime. If he is to be believed he was born somewhere in California during the early days of the New California Republic, before the First Battle of Hoover Dam even. His travels took him to many places - San Francisco, New Vegas and even through Dog City in Colorado. He also claims that he visited Washington D.C. a few years back with a salvaged vertibird, but when questioned further about where getting the flying vehicle he just changes the topic.
Eventually Max's travels took him to New York - though he insists he's planning on moving further east, to Boston, or other such place. However he has shown no sign of actually moving from New York for the time being - perhaps due to the rumors about the Enclave being present in the area.
Weapon of choice= PPK12 Gauss pistol and a large curved blade that has obviously had a much larger hilt at some point. Both weapons are in poor condition.
Any other info not included in the above= Max wears a tattered duster over what seems like a vault suit. When the curved blade is not hanging from his back the letter 3 can be seen from one of the cuts and either a 1 or a 7.
Name= Max Sawyer "The Old Man from the West"
Age= 66
Looks (picture optional)= At first glance Max seems just like most of the old scroungers that have been lucky to live to old age. His face - though still handsome - is lined with marks of age and scars from past battles. His grayish-blue eyes have a curious spark to them and his long black hair - though notably graying - refuses to thin with age.
Personality= Max is quite the storyteller, admittedly most take his stories with the proverbial pinch of salt since the stories oftentimes sound very much exaggerated. He is as polite as possible and usually prefers to take care of matters with diplomacy instead of bullets.
Faction= Wastelander/Unaligned
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength-4
Perception-7
Endurance-3
Charisma-7
Intelligence-8
Agility-4
Luck-10
Backstory=
Max has had many names and homes in his lifetime. If he is to be believed he was born somewhere in California during the early days of the New California Republic, before the First Battle of Hoover Dam even. His travels took him to many places - San Francisco, New Vegas and even through Dog City in Colorado. He also claims that he visited Washington D.C. a few years back with a salvaged vertibird, but when questioned further about where getting the flying vehicle he just changes the topic.
Eventually Max's travels took him to New York - though he insists he's planning on moving further east, to Boston, or other such place. However he has shown no sign of actually moving from New York for the time being - perhaps due to the rumors about the Enclave being present in the area.
Weapon of choice= PPK12 Gauss pistol and a large curved blade that has obviously had a much larger hilt at some point. Both weapons are in poor condition.
Any other info not included in the above= Max wears a tattered duster over what seems like a vault suit. When the curved blade is not hanging from his back the letter 3 can be seen from one of the cuts and either a 1 or a 7.
Age= 66
Looks (picture optional)= At first glance Max seems just like most of the old scroungers that have been lucky to live to old age. His face - though still handsome - is lined with marks of age and scars from past battles. His grayish-blue eyes have a curious spark to them and his long black hair - though notably graying - refuses to thin with age.
Personality= Max is quite the storyteller, admittedly most take his stories with the proverbial pinch of salt since the stories oftentimes sound very much exaggerated. He is as polite as possible and usually prefers to take care of matters with diplomacy instead of bullets.
Faction= Wastelander/Unaligned
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (42 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength-4
Perception-7
Endurance-3
Charisma-7
Intelligence-8
Agility-4
Luck-10
Backstory=
Max has had many names and homes in his lifetime. If he is to be believed he was born somewhere in California during the early days of the New California Republic, before the First Battle of Hoover Dam even. His travels took him to many places - San Francisco, New Vegas and even through Dog City in Colorado. He also claims that he visited Washington D.C. a few years back with a salvaged vertibird, but when questioned further about where getting the flying vehicle he just changes the topic.
Eventually Max's travels took him to New York - though he insists he's planning on moving further east, to Boston, or other such place. However he has shown no sign of actually moving from New York for the time being - perhaps due to the rumors about the Enclave being present in the area.
Weapon of choice= PPK12 Gauss pistol and a large curved blade that has obviously had a much larger hilt at some point. Both weapons are in poor condition.
Any other info not included in the above= Max wears a tattered duster over what seems like a vault suit. When the curved blade is not hanging from his back the letter 3 can be seen from one of the cuts and either a 1 or a 7.
Not gonna lie this moves a bit too quickly in comparison to the stuff I'm usually in ^^;;
Would it be ok for me to add a form of fire immunity to my character. The kind that you feel the pain of the flames, buf you do not get burned?
Sometimes dreams are just dreams, other times they are the very last vestiges of your past - oftentimes facts of your past are mixed with the strangeness of dreams. You can never be quite sure which is which when you are dreaming and when you finally are back in the waking world you may be more confused than anything. Ramia was now rather confused. Her workshop was a mess from her working to the earliest hours of dawn before falling asleep mid tinkering. She brushed her black, now quite messy hair away from her eyes and stared at the ceiling while slowly gathering her thoughts.
Even her dreams were getting hazier now - not that it bothered her at the very moment, since that was just what those had been, dreams. Ramia pushed the thoughts of her strange dreams away and began preparing a meal of bread and watered down wine while lighting up her forge - signaling the rest of the town that she was back in business again.
Even her dreams were getting hazier now - not that it bothered her at the very moment, since that was just what those had been, dreams. Ramia pushed the thoughts of her strange dreams away and began preparing a meal of bread and watered down wine while lighting up her forge - signaling the rest of the town that she was back in business again.
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