Penultimate_Pi

Souls of Steel: A Giant Mecha RP

@Evil Snowman Nah, I could tell you had to be kidding, especially considering I posted before you did. But yes, we did all use similar formats for our posts, I shall concede that.

Souls of Steel: A Giant Mecha RP

@Evil Snowman Excuse you.

Wastelanders: The Dystopian Convoy

"Is Andy a stupid nickname?"

He actually had to think about that one. He'd heard some people call him that before, but only some - it wasn't like he regularly socialized or, god forbid, associated with other people well enough to get into the stage of nicknames. There was a time in the past where Andreis insisted he go by the full name for some reason he couldn't quite recall. Probably had something to do with pride and/or heritage. Except, that was just silly- people like him had no such things to speak of.

Mick spoke up, "I have dossiers on everything; you don't live to 32 in this shitty county without doing your research on the world around you, and I sure as hell wasn't going to recruit a bunch of random outlaws for such an important and lucrative job."

The scavenger offered no reply or retort. Andreis couldn't help but wonder if that was meant to be some sort of omen, considering he was a year younger than his employer. He didn't know why he remembered that, considering his tendency of not paying attention to the passing of dates- he scarcely ever recalled his own birthday. Maybe it was time to start again.

Andreis turned back to Nash and answered, "I suppose not."

With little other fanfare, Mr. Mercer beckoned the road crew to prepare to shove off. The employer gave them a brief rundown of their first leg: they would take a more direct path on the rocky plains. With that plan came the requirement for drivers to lead the pack safely through - Wingjack, Oshkosh, and Banshee, the vehicles Mick recognized as suitable for off-road terrain. He really had done his research, however drunk he had been.

Hefting himself onto the roof, Andreis slipped through the hatch and shut the lid behind him. The cockpit was hot and a little dry, a fact that wouldn't change until he built up some speed to let the wind flow. The wastelander only went through a brief checkup before the gunned the engine to life, peeling out of the garage with little hesitation.

"Wingjack here," Andreis reported along with the others as the convoy set off. "Looking good so far. Weather's a bit warm, but conditions are clear otherwise. I'll try and lead us down the clearest path so we can keep good pace."

Souls of Steel: A Giant Mecha RP

Not long through their diverse training program, and Squad Sigma already was being deployed for a mission - one of utmost importance, it seemed. The Cruxi were attacking another planet, so soon after their assault on Gomorrah VI, with the concern being that there were one of two major colonies that the Cruxi could attack. Therefore, Sigma would have to split into two strategic groups to defend both areas simultaneously. Lora shared a glance with Harold, but she wisely cut it off a bit early, so as not to prolong the staring daggers.

Most alarmingly, however, was the matter of their new weapon, codename "Mist". A gigantic orb that emitted pilot-destroying radiation at medium range, flanked by a sizable patrol of otherwise regular Cruxi war-machines. This, presumably, was the reason for Sigma's early deployment - still, it put quite a lot on their plate. While notable that Mist could harm friend and foe alike, it was also a reasonable guess that it wouldn't fire if there was a majority of their units at risk for it. But then again, there was so much humanity's united forces yet knew about the Cruxi - who could say for such how much of their own they were willing to destroy for the sake of victory?

Lora's hand went up. Harold took the first question, in order to inquire the squad's potential support, while Lora allowed herself to follow up with a different topic. "Could you go into detail about Mist's firing systems - how frequently does it fire, and how can we watch for it's attack?" If the squad knew more about how Mist worked, they could find some way to work around or exploit the weapon's firing systems to avoid risk. "Moreover, how do we even damage it? It looks like a gas planet, so I assume it's not simple to attack."

Stand Tall - Pleasant Valley Sunday

Just tell me when.

Wastelanders: The Dystopian Convoy

A scraggy-haired man glanced up from his work at hearing the door open, only to turn back to his job once he confirmed the man behind it. The thick brown gloves he wore had a difficult time fiddling with the intricacies of the piece he was operating upon, but the wastelander managed to latch on well enough. With the loosening of a bolt, Andreis looked up and slapped one arm onto the newly-mounted gun. He grabbed a handle, pushed the weapon forward and then back, and after a moment did it again with a more contemplative frown on his face.

"Good enough," his voice, deep and rough without being gravelly, rung out softly. The wastelander had only mumbled the sentiment to himself, but the large chambers of the hangar had seized the sound and magnified it. Not it made much difference, aside the clatters and sizzling of the other drivers tinkering with their own vehicles.

Andreis shoved the screwdriver into his coat pocket for the time being, where it jangled alongside the brass knuckles. When Mick had offered them the large chest full of neat little 'instruments' to take and play with, Andreis had been the only one to go for the brass knuckles. He thought, at the time, they might complement what he knew of his fighting style- but without opportunity to practice, the driver couldn't be totally sure until he would already be in a full-blown fight.

As Mick told his new hires to introduce themselves again, Andreis only initially replied, "You had dossiers? Didn't take you for that kind of guy, honestly."

People who actually had the forethought to write down stuff to keep track were a relative rarity in this world. Not just the folks who kept journals or anything, but those who would create and keep official records of things, like supplies and cash and people, or whatnot. Considering paperwork wasn't exactly any more more fun even before modern civilization burned to a crisp, any new settlement looking to restore some form of law and order had their work cut out for them if they wanted to keep any of their knowledge on paper.

But then Mick and gone and gotten himself drunk, apparently, so it all went in a 180 anyways. The first three to introduce themselves to their employer were a fellow wastelander, what looked to be a soldier straight out of boot camp, and a foxy lady who clearly held a lot of pride in herself. About the average fare for a road crew, so far.

From the silence that came after Valentine's words, he spoke up, "Andreis Ulysses. My car here is called Wingjack." Another beat of silence came, and he figured he needed a bit more than that. "I don't really have a nickname, so if you want one from me, just make something up. Nothing stupid, though," he picked up the slack, swiveling the gatling gun experimentally again.

Wastelanders: The Dystopian Convoy

Working on a post now, but I wanted to ask a question; while we're obviously going to find more gear during our journey, are we going to get any opportunities to tune-up or modify our vehicles? Like, say, if we got a new weapon, could we choose to enhance our firepower stat slightly?

Stand Tall - Pleasant Valley Sunday

Camero Shepard and Spoonman

Stand User
Name: Camero Cornell Shepard
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Appearance:
At 5'9" and 180 lbs (175cm and 81kg), Camero isn't exactly outstandingly built, as far as features are concerned. His black hair is kept in forward-swept spikes, relaxed just enough to look almost like a normal scruffy hairdo if you squint at his silhouette. For being classified as a delinquent, his features are relatively clean and unblemished, almost giving the impression of an 'untouchable' man.

His typical wardrobe is a biker jacket over an undershirt, cargo pants, and boots. On school days, he'll most often wear a white-trimmed dark blazer over a light t-shirt, slacks and loafers. He puts a lot of care into his jackets, and will only rarely take them off or leave them alone. His wardrobe is most often subdued in color, if not monochrome.

Personality:
You'd expect someone labeled as a delinquent to be brash and tough, or at least in an ever-serious 'cool' expression. Camero doesn't seem to acknowledge this much at all, normally being calm and quiet, even distant. His nature as a subdued individual who would viciously counter any threat against him with violence is all but no more, discarded in favor of a more contemplative and casual attitude - a radical transformation he realized when the reality of his Stand was revealed to him.

He's not the kind of guy that will go out of his way to cause trouble or get into fights. He's actually generally well-mannered, thoughtful, and even clever - he would be a top-notch student if he actually dedicated his time to it. Instead, however, he tends to express more interest in practical things like mechanics and sketching, with a mild hand in skating. Perhaps, if it were not for his certain upbringing, that would be it. Underneath all that, however, he has a certain sense of justice- the kind that would compulsively hunt down and kick the shit out of every genuinely evil bastard in the county if he didn't put a lid on it himself (and thankfully, he does).

Overall, he's a fairly laid-back and relatively well-tempered person in a casual environment, while proving himself quite capable of force, action, and initiative when it comes to it. His not-so-secret distaste of the cruel-hearted, manipulative and abusive is exactly why he's associated himself with the militia of delinquents known as the Boomtown Rats.

Biography:
Born and raised in the Seattle area of Washington state, Camero wasn't exactly an exceptional youth at the time. He would be outgoing, as children often were, but would have difficulty actually making and establishing friends on his part, for reasons he himself didn't quite know. This would unfortunately single out Shepard just enough to become a target for the stereotypical bullies of the late elementary school environment. Needless to say, it was a position he didn't like to be in and quite wanted to get out any way he could. Eventually, it all reached a boiling point when Camero found himself on the verge of being beaten senseless during his outdoor lunch.

Fear, frustration, and the sheer desire for more power saw Shepard's stand awaken, and before he had even realized it, the young boy had beaten the clique of young teens with only his plastic eating utensils. Barring the severe repercussions of the event, Camero suddenly found himself with the reputation that he could beat anyone to a pulp with just a spoon, even going so far as to be called "Spoonman". This put the poor kid to the subject of many tests willing to test out this wild proclamation- not quite understanding the ability that got him into this mess, Shepard forced himself to man up and take on these hardships headfirst. By the time he left elementary school, he had been kicked out of two previous schools for being a needlessly violent delinquent.

In hopes of correcting this, Camero's mother took her boy and moved to the quiet town of Pleasant Valley - against these wishes, Shepard's father stayed behind in Washington to pursue a major business opportunity. The transition and the new town didn't quite mellow out Cameron as his mother had hoped; the latent Stand User ultimately found himself quite at home among the fellow delinquents of Pleasant Valley High.

Time, and the nature of Pleasant Valley, did eventually prove to calm the young man regardless, and he began to pursue more productive interests than his own bloody survival within a school environment. Most recently, he has found himself joining the Boomtown Rats in an effort to try and learn more about his own Stand (affectionately named Spoonman in reference to his old nickname) and possibly harness it for a greater purpose.

Namesakes: Matt Cameron, Ben Shepard, and Chris Cornell- the drummer, bassist, and lead singer/guitarist (respectively) of the American alternative/rock band Soundgarden. Also a pun on the Chevrolet Camaro.

Stand
Name: Spoonman
Appearance: A figure of roughly Camero's size and build, draped in raggy cloaking and a wide-brim hat that gives the very vague appearance of a old west gunslinger. Robotic limbs of a teal tint extend from the shadows of its rags, the arms terminating in metallic hands of impeccable quality. It's face and torso remain in eternal shadow that shrouds the Stand in mystery along with its cloth, two scarlet-red blips of light serving as its eyes.

Power:
Item Empowerment - Spoonman has the ability to take any mundane tool or utensil and inflate its capability to dramatic effect. For example, a plastic knife in Spoonman's hands would have the cutting ability of a sword, or a spoon the impact of a mace. An item that would not have any significant destructive potential would be granted it: an eraser would turn into the likes of a deadly razor. Effectively, an object held in Spoonman's hands gains the same 'stats' as the Stand does, Destructive Power just being the most notable increase.

This ability is limited in several ways. Firstly, an item is not changed in shape, so a small utensil would remain small and thus be difficult to use offensively. Secondly, the item must remain in Spoonman's hands in order to be empowered- the moment the item leaves Spoonman's grasp, it loses that power, preventing the use of empowered projectiles. Third, an item can only be empowered up to a certain natural threshold- a knife could be given the cutting power of a masterwork sword, but an actual sword could not be made notably stronger.

Finally, for now, Camero hasn't experimented extensively with his Stand, and is yet unaware of how his Stand's ability could affect items with more complex uses. He currently has knowledge of Spoonman's use of simple kitchen and writing utensils, such as spoons, forks, pens, and erasers.

Stats:
Destructive Power: A
Speed: B
Range: C
Durability: C
Precision: B

Wastelanders: The Dystopian Convoy

Character

Name: Andreis Ulysses
Age: 31
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 191 lbs.
Nationality: Scandinavian

Appearance:

Fighting Style: Kickboxing. Technique focuses on hard, quick, subduing blows.
Specific Skill: Scavenging (tools, items, parts, ammo, etc.)

Bio: The end of society as we knew it affected a lot of people quite differently, needless to say. The 'normal' people with casual lives and city experiences were quickly cut down, while many of the more rural and survivalist folk would keep going as if not a damn thing had happened. Among these kinds of people, Andreis found himself in the right kind of upbringing- he was able to blossom from his uncomfortable life as a slummy rat in a second-hand apartment and thrive well enough in the wake of the apocalypse.

With the only prejudice now concerning the size of one's proverbial balls, Andreis would end up right at home in the remnants of humanity's world, simply getting by in his own quiet way. And while he wouldn't have normally paid a thought over an odd job like this, sometimes you just can't help but decide go and reach out for something a little bit bigger.

Theme Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iLLz2LloxdI

Vehicle

Name: Wingjack
Apperance:


Firepower: 9
Grip: 12
Frame: 8
Acceleration: 14
Top Speed: 12
Flavor Text: A vintage muscle car that has passed through many hands, seeing many injuries and modifictations before ending up in Andreis's hands - this followed the death of the previous owner, who didn't have the good sense to watch his feet and stepped on a land mine. Not much of the original car remains, a lot of the housing or parts either stripped away or replaced, like the wheels and the engine. The resulting vehicle serves as a machine sturdy enough to house a mounted weapon while quick enough to keep pace with light buggies. The top hatch is the only convenient entrance, as the doors have been welded on to serve as protective plating.

Gear

• Brass Knuckles
• Mounted Gatling Gun (30 rounds)

Stand Tall - Pleasant Valley Sunday

Ah, but isn't that the point? Like Passione, the gangsters that all ended up being good guys somehow?
Besides, I'm the one guy that doesn't have a pompadour- *kicked*