I posted, but I didn't want to take out a major Deathclaw in my first post.
So I guess I forfeit rights to kill it? XD
(Though I did get one hit in, yay.)
So I guess I forfeit rights to kill it? XD
(Though I did get one hit in, yay.)
- Last Seen: 9 yrs ago
- Joined: 9 yrs ago
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- R0bE0 9 yrs ago
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9 yrs ago
Current
Maltesers make all the pain go away.
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9 yrs ago
v A trap character is a male character who could easily pass as a woman. A reserve trap is the opposite. ~The More You Know~
1
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9 yrs ago
How to cure man-flu: go punch a bear. Or not, bears are scary.
1
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9 yrs ago
Got sick. I suppose you could say my illness 'flu' at me unexpectedly.
2
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9 yrs ago
'Ello again Guild, I'm back after a lot of dull real life drama. Hopefully time to write some drama instead of partake in it. <cracks knuckles>
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Bio
Canadian. Dog lover. Gamer.
I probably like Earl Grey Tea more than you.
I probably like Earl Grey Tea more than you.
Most Recent Posts
Today was supposed to be a peaceful day. Or as peaceful as a day could get in the Commonwealth.
Newton had been hired to take 'care' of a stingy chem dealer close to Concord. The confrontation itself hadn't been pleasant, as his employers failed to mention the chem dealer wasn't alone. Two lackeys had been with the dealer, and once he made it very clear that he wasn't here to buy their product they became quite hostile. Not even his so-called 'brilliant' charm could talk them down from making the fight a living nightmare.
The fight had lasted only five minutes or so, but it was a dreaded five minutes with nothing more than the repeated: fuck, fuck, fuck, oh shit, fuck, fuck... occupying his thoughts. Though, three dead dealers, and a busted shoulder later, he was still alive, and all was good.
Two hundred caps was hardly worth the risk. Hell, I wasted two stimpacks trying to heal this goddamn arm, two! I'm going to have to talk to my employer about some extra compensation. Though that could be dealt with later, right now he just had to worry about the trek back to Goodneighbor. Well, it's not like this day could possibly get any worse right?
As if the universe had an ironic sense of humor, he heard a massive explosion sound in the direction of Concord. The exact same direction he was planning to take back to Goodneighbor. "Oh c'mon now!" He let out a huff through gritted teeth. "Goddammit it all." There were other ways he could take back to Goodneighbor, though he knew that those ways were usually crawling with mutated critters or Raiders who just didn't know when to quit.
If I'm lucky whoever caused that explosion got caught up in it. Though he doubted his luck was all that good, and that there would be something - someone, causing a havoc in Concord.
Newton's movements slowed as he began to near the ruined town itself. He kept himself alert and focused, ready for just about anything to happen. His fingers tightly clutched the bindings of the Deathclaw gauntlet that he had tied to his right hand. In the distance he could hear three shots being fired. Of course they weren't killed in the blast, figures.
Once at the outskirts of town, he crouched down, peering over the side of a building, before - BOOM! The sound of a mine being set off was enough to startle the man out of his wits. He didn't even notice the lumbering Deathclaw at first, the ringing sound from the mine being set off filling his ears. When he did glance out again he saw the wounded beast, it clearly looked like it had taken a beating from those who had its attention.
I could run, maybe manage to get away. I don't need to get involved with this. Newton only had one stimpack left to his name, and no fire-arm. His only weapon was the gauntlet forged from the very thing these people were fighting. Though it would be pretty neat if I could say I helped bring down one of those things. Heh, I might even get a free drink at the Third Rail.
It was almost sad to say that all it took for him to gain motivation was a (possible) free drink, and bragging rights.
Brandishing his gauntlet the man moved out from the cover of the building he hid behind in clear view of what the scene truly was. Moving forward, he ran towards the scene, in perhaps what wasn't tactically the best move. He was exposed, if there was someone hostile with a gun then they could take him out in a clear shot.
The fight itself seemed to be happening the tight quarters of what was now ruined home. Filled with determination to get at least one good strike in, the man lunged at the back of the Deathclaw, slicing the claws against the leather-y flesh. It wasn't long before his thunder was cut short when the whip-like tail of the beast smacked into his gut, sending him back on his arse. The charred and grotesque face of the brute turning around to snarl at him.
Damn, the thing's almost dead and it can still make a hit like that. Shit! He was a goner unless someone managed to take the beast down. It had to be on the last leg on its life, right?
Oh man, I'm so fucking dead.
Newton had been hired to take 'care' of a stingy chem dealer close to Concord. The confrontation itself hadn't been pleasant, as his employers failed to mention the chem dealer wasn't alone. Two lackeys had been with the dealer, and once he made it very clear that he wasn't here to buy their product they became quite hostile. Not even his so-called 'brilliant' charm could talk them down from making the fight a living nightmare.
The fight had lasted only five minutes or so, but it was a dreaded five minutes with nothing more than the repeated: fuck, fuck, fuck, oh shit, fuck, fuck... occupying his thoughts. Though, three dead dealers, and a busted shoulder later, he was still alive, and all was good.
Two hundred caps was hardly worth the risk. Hell, I wasted two stimpacks trying to heal this goddamn arm, two! I'm going to have to talk to my employer about some extra compensation. Though that could be dealt with later, right now he just had to worry about the trek back to Goodneighbor. Well, it's not like this day could possibly get any worse right?
As if the universe had an ironic sense of humor, he heard a massive explosion sound in the direction of Concord. The exact same direction he was planning to take back to Goodneighbor. "Oh c'mon now!" He let out a huff through gritted teeth. "Goddammit it all." There were other ways he could take back to Goodneighbor, though he knew that those ways were usually crawling with mutated critters or Raiders who just didn't know when to quit.
If I'm lucky whoever caused that explosion got caught up in it. Though he doubted his luck was all that good, and that there would be something - someone, causing a havoc in Concord.
Newton's movements slowed as he began to near the ruined town itself. He kept himself alert and focused, ready for just about anything to happen. His fingers tightly clutched the bindings of the Deathclaw gauntlet that he had tied to his right hand. In the distance he could hear three shots being fired. Of course they weren't killed in the blast, figures.
Once at the outskirts of town, he crouched down, peering over the side of a building, before - BOOM! The sound of a mine being set off was enough to startle the man out of his wits. He didn't even notice the lumbering Deathclaw at first, the ringing sound from the mine being set off filling his ears. When he did glance out again he saw the wounded beast, it clearly looked like it had taken a beating from those who had its attention.
I could run, maybe manage to get away. I don't need to get involved with this. Newton only had one stimpack left to his name, and no fire-arm. His only weapon was the gauntlet forged from the very thing these people were fighting. Though it would be pretty neat if I could say I helped bring down one of those things. Heh, I might even get a free drink at the Third Rail.
It was almost sad to say that all it took for him to gain motivation was a (possible) free drink, and bragging rights.
Brandishing his gauntlet the man moved out from the cover of the building he hid behind in clear view of what the scene truly was. Moving forward, he ran towards the scene, in perhaps what wasn't tactically the best move. He was exposed, if there was someone hostile with a gun then they could take him out in a clear shot.
The fight itself seemed to be happening the tight quarters of what was now ruined home. Filled with determination to get at least one good strike in, the man lunged at the back of the Deathclaw, slicing the claws against the leather-y flesh. It wasn't long before his thunder was cut short when the whip-like tail of the beast smacked into his gut, sending him back on his arse. The charred and grotesque face of the brute turning around to snarl at him.
Damn, the thing's almost dead and it can still make a hit like that. Shit! He was a goner unless someone managed to take the beast down. It had to be on the last leg on its life, right?
Oh man, I'm so fucking dead.
Name: Y7-68 (Formerly)
Nickname: Newton
Age: Unknown. Appears in mid-30s.
Race: (3rd Gen) Synth
Morals: Very few, but he won't do anything to harm an animal or child. Likewise he holds disgust for slavers, or those who would bind others into servitude. He also isn't particularly fond of racists, as some of his best drinking buddies have been ghouls.
Flaws: Newton is a bitter guy, who generally doesn't 'play' well with others. His lone-wolf act has almost gotten him killed in the past, and yet he's stubborn enough not to want to change. He is also a terrible shot, especially with heavy weaponry. Don't give him a Missile Launcher or he'll accidentally blow himself (and everyone else) up.
Faction: Freelance Mercenary, (Formerly: The Institute)
Background: Originally he was a snyth working in the Institute, living an oblivious life as Y7-68. However he often thought about what the world above was like, and what life outside the Institute might be like. This was only intensified when a synth-sympathizer began to help synths leave the Institute. Eventually he decided to make his first major decision in life and attempt an escape. He was successful, and hasn't looked back since.
Of course his troubles were only just beginning. The Institute wasn't oblivious to their missing synths, and a courser was sent after him and the others who had made it out. It was only thanks to the generosity given by the Railroad that he is still alive to this day. He opted to go to the Memory Den to get his memories of the Institute erased, instead implanting him with the memories of that of a rather average settler of the wastes named Newton.
With his new memories, and a new take on life he left the wastes to go westward for about a year. However desperation drove him to need caps, and caps sometimes doing dirty work for scum people. Those sometimes turned into frequently hiring himself out as a mercenary. Eventually the haul of work that could be found back on the East cost drove him back.
Now he spends a good majority of his time in Goodneighbor and the surrounding area, selling his skills to whoever can afford them.
Looks: Newton is a fairly tall man, with a lean athletic build. He has short and curly platinum blonde hair that curls underneath the bottoms of his ears. His skin is a light peach, with a few blemishes along his arms and neck. His eyes are a light brown. He has a few scars on his torso and upper arms from fights, however the only noticeable one is one spanning the edge of his chin and across the bottom of his jawline.
Other: He's a pure melee-fighter, using a Deathclaw Gauntlet as his primary weapon of choice.
Nickname: Newton
Age: Unknown. Appears in mid-30s.
Race: (3rd Gen) Synth
Morals: Very few, but he won't do anything to harm an animal or child. Likewise he holds disgust for slavers, or those who would bind others into servitude. He also isn't particularly fond of racists, as some of his best drinking buddies have been ghouls.
Flaws: Newton is a bitter guy, who generally doesn't 'play' well with others. His lone-wolf act has almost gotten him killed in the past, and yet he's stubborn enough not to want to change. He is also a terrible shot, especially with heavy weaponry. Don't give him a Missile Launcher or he'll accidentally blow himself (and everyone else) up.
Faction: Freelance Mercenary, (Formerly: The Institute)
Background: Originally he was a snyth working in the Institute, living an oblivious life as Y7-68. However he often thought about what the world above was like, and what life outside the Institute might be like. This was only intensified when a synth-sympathizer began to help synths leave the Institute. Eventually he decided to make his first major decision in life and attempt an escape. He was successful, and hasn't looked back since.
Of course his troubles were only just beginning. The Institute wasn't oblivious to their missing synths, and a courser was sent after him and the others who had made it out. It was only thanks to the generosity given by the Railroad that he is still alive to this day. He opted to go to the Memory Den to get his memories of the Institute erased, instead implanting him with the memories of that of a rather average settler of the wastes named Newton.
With his new memories, and a new take on life he left the wastes to go westward for about a year. However desperation drove him to need caps, and caps sometimes doing dirty work for scum people. Those sometimes turned into frequently hiring himself out as a mercenary. Eventually the haul of work that could be found back on the East cost drove him back.
Now he spends a good majority of his time in Goodneighbor and the surrounding area, selling his skills to whoever can afford them.
Looks: Newton is a fairly tall man, with a lean athletic build. He has short and curly platinum blonde hair that curls underneath the bottoms of his ears. His skin is a light peach, with a few blemishes along his arms and neck. His eyes are a light brown. He has a few scars on his torso and upper arms from fights, however the only noticeable one is one spanning the edge of his chin and across the bottom of his jawline.
Other: He's a pure melee-fighter, using a Deathclaw Gauntlet as his primary weapon of choice.
Character Sheet -
Name: Y7-68 (Formerly)
Nickname: Newton
Age: Unknown. Appears in mid-30s.
Race: (3rd Gen) Synth
Morals: Very few, but he won't do anything to harm an animal or child. Likewise he holds disgust for slavers, or those who would bind others into servitude. He also isn't particularly fond of racists, as some of his best drinking buddies have been ghouls.
Flaws: Newton is a bitter guy, who generally doesn't 'play' well with others. His lone-wolf act has almost gotten him killed in the past, and yet he's stubborn enough not to want to change. He is also a terrible shot, especially with heavy weaponry. Don't give him a Missile Launcher or he'll accidentally blow himself (and everyone else) up.
Faction: Freelance Mercenary, (Formerly: The Institute)
Background: Originally he was a snyth working in the Institute, living an oblivious life as Y7-68. However he often thought about what the world above was like, and what life outside the Institute might be like. This was only intensified when a synth-sympathizer began to help synths leave the Institute. Eventually he decided to make his first major decision in life and attempt an escape. He was successful, and hasn't looked back since.
Of course his troubles were only just beginning. The Institute wasn't oblivious to their missing synths, and a courser was sent after him and the others who had made it out. It was only thanks to the generosity given by the Railroad that he is still alive to this day. He opted to go to the Memory Den to get his memories of the Institute erased, instead implanting him with the memories of that of a rather average settler of the wastes named Newton.
With his new memories, and a new take on life he left the wastes to go westward for about a year. However desperation drove him to need caps, and caps sometimes doing dirty work for scum people. Those sometimes turned into frequently hiring himself out as a mercenary. Eventually the haul of work that could be found back on the East cost drove him back.
Now he spends a good majority of his time in Goodneighbor and the surrounding area, selling his skills to whoever can afford them.
Looks: Newton is a fairly tall man, with a lean athletic build. He has short and curly platinum blonde hair that curls underneath the bottoms of his ears. His skin is a light peach, with a few blemishes along his arms and neck. His eyes are a light brown. He has a few scars on his torso and upper arms from fights, however the only noticeable one is one spanning the edge of his chin and across the bottom of his jawline.
Other: He's a pure melee-fighter, using a Deathclaw Gauntlet as his primary weapon of choice.
Name: Y7-68 (Formerly)
Nickname: Newton
Age: Unknown. Appears in mid-30s.
Race: (3rd Gen) Synth
Morals: Very few, but he won't do anything to harm an animal or child. Likewise he holds disgust for slavers, or those who would bind others into servitude. He also isn't particularly fond of racists, as some of his best drinking buddies have been ghouls.
Flaws: Newton is a bitter guy, who generally doesn't 'play' well with others. His lone-wolf act has almost gotten him killed in the past, and yet he's stubborn enough not to want to change. He is also a terrible shot, especially with heavy weaponry. Don't give him a Missile Launcher or he'll accidentally blow himself (and everyone else) up.
Faction: Freelance Mercenary, (Formerly: The Institute)
Background: Originally he was a snyth working in the Institute, living an oblivious life as Y7-68. However he often thought about what the world above was like, and what life outside the Institute might be like. This was only intensified when a synth-sympathizer began to help synths leave the Institute. Eventually he decided to make his first major decision in life and attempt an escape. He was successful, and hasn't looked back since.
Of course his troubles were only just beginning. The Institute wasn't oblivious to their missing synths, and a courser was sent after him and the others who had made it out. It was only thanks to the generosity given by the Railroad that he is still alive to this day. He opted to go to the Memory Den to get his memories of the Institute erased, instead implanting him with the memories of that of a rather average settler of the wastes named Newton.
With his new memories, and a new take on life he left the wastes to go westward for about a year. However desperation drove him to need caps, and caps sometimes doing dirty work for scum people. Those sometimes turned into frequently hiring himself out as a mercenary. Eventually the haul of work that could be found back on the East cost drove him back.
Now he spends a good majority of his time in Goodneighbor and the surrounding area, selling his skills to whoever can afford them.
Looks: Newton is a fairly tall man, with a lean athletic build. He has short and curly platinum blonde hair that curls underneath the bottoms of his ears. His skin is a light peach, with a few blemishes along his arms and neck. His eyes are a light brown. He has a few scars on his torso and upper arms from fights, however the only noticeable one is one spanning the edge of his chin and across the bottom of his jawline.
Other: He's a pure melee-fighter, using a Deathclaw Gauntlet as his primary weapon of choice.
Yay for interest!
If we don't get anymore interest by this evening, then I'll start brainstorming some ideas with you guys. Here's a few questions to ponder:
If we don't get anymore interest by this evening, then I'll start brainstorming some ideas with you guys. Here's a few questions to ponder:
- What kind of setting would you guys like to see? A place that is already in a game? A new one entirely? And if a new one, then where are you thinking?
- Factions, whether you'd like to see some canon factions (BoS, etc) come back, or have a totally new set of factions.
- Mechanics. How would you like this roleplay to run?
- Possibly character ideas, and what you'd be interested in playing.
I sometimes don't find a picture. Though when I do, it's almost always near the beginning.
If I'm not using a picture it's because I have a clear idea of the character appearance in my head, and cannot find anyone that would be able to suit the role. So naturally if I have a character concept I try to find a picture as soon as possible before my mind comes up with a mental image, and thus makes it difficult for me to find a suitable picture.
There have also been times that I have created a character concept based on an image given. So in those cases finding/having a picture would be the first step.
If I'm not using a picture it's because I have a clear idea of the character appearance in my head, and cannot find anyone that would be able to suit the role. So naturally if I have a character concept I try to find a picture as soon as possible before my mind comes up with a mental image, and thus makes it difficult for me to find a suitable picture.
There have also been times that I have created a character concept based on an image given. So in those cases finding/having a picture would be the first step.
<Snipped quote by R0bE0>
Do you know what kind of person hates things because they're popular?
HIPSTERS.
I don't remember mentioning that I hated the game before playing it. In fact, I didn't. I was more cautious than anything else, more or less for the reasons that @Shorticus mentioned above. The Indie game community has given me more than a few reasons to be a bit cautious in researching a game before buying it myself.
Thankfully Undertale ended up not warranting the caution.
I'd be game for a Dragon Age or A:TLA roleplay. (Whichever you are craving more.) 8)
In
Music & Roleplaying (What kind of music do you listen to when writing?)
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9 yrs ago
Forum: Roleplaying Discussion
I'm a generally curious person by nature, and I am wondering what kind of music (if any) do you listen to when you write? Are there some bands/genres that get you into the writing mood quicker? Are there bands/genres that you can't imagine yourself ever listening to while writing?
And if you do not like listening to music while writing, what is your experience with music/writing? Why are you unable to / don't enjoy it?
I myself have to listen to upbeat music. Regardless of whether or not the post is actually upbeat or more quiet/sorrowful. I find that I lose motivation/energy quickly while writing, and need something to constantly keep me motivated. So things like rock/metal (Trivium, Disturbed, Demon Hunter, etc), or trap music is usually my go-to. Though a lot of OSTs and instrumental/industrial music is helpful too.
And if you do not like listening to music while writing, what is your experience with music/writing? Why are you unable to / don't enjoy it?
I myself have to listen to upbeat music. Regardless of whether or not the post is actually upbeat or more quiet/sorrowful. I find that I lose motivation/energy quickly while writing, and need something to constantly keep me motivated. So things like rock/metal (Trivium, Disturbed, Demon Hunter, etc), or trap music is usually my go-to. Though a lot of OSTs and instrumental/industrial music is helpful too.
In
Let's B!tch. I feel it's a healthy release for our roleplay annoyances 2.0
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9 yrs ago
Forum: Roleplaying Discussion
I take the city bus home from campus everyday, and usually it goes without incident. Today though as I was getting onto the bus a girl in front of me dropped her headband. Me, being the gentleman that I am went to pick it up for her. Only.. it didn't work out so well. Maybe it was the weight of my backpack that made me get off balance, but as I went to pick it up I ended up tripping forward on the step of the bus.
Long story short I embarrassed myself, banged my head, and the girl still had to pick up her own headband.
It would appear the universe hates me.
Long story short I embarrassed myself, banged my head, and the girl still had to pick up her own headband.
It would appear the universe hates me.
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