Red Room

Star Wars, Pre-Prequels RP

I'm down :)

Foreign Legion [First Contact/Uplift/Military Sci-Fi]

Renard was nothing short of confused when he awoke -he was very accustomed to never questioning the way the world was, be it on his fathers ranch or on a mission. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what the hell was actually going on when the shot he was given ended up waking him up in a glorified metal box. Though he had woken up in far stranger places during his time doing mercenary work, the diction used to describe the place put him on edge. 'Bulkheads', 'decks', and 'the head' were terms used on ships, not on land. The Frenchman felt queasy at just the thought that they were at sea -he and water had an on-off relationship at best.

The thoughts only ruminated more as he made his way to 'the head' and relieved himself of his lunch. He walked out feeling refreshed, just in time for the call to assembly. The bulking man squeezed himself into a chair and did what he did best -waited silently for orders. He was a bit dumbfounded when the order came: "Hit the switch." Renard cocked an eyebrow, until he looked up to the ceiling and had to work very hard to keep his lunch from coming up a second time.

The inky blackness that stared back at Renard was pierced only by the single eye of purple, brown, and white that he would soon come to hate. As the briefing went on, Renard nodded along silently, trying not to think too hard about how the entire thing sounded like a load of horse shit. But hell, a contract's a contract, whether it comes from some vindictive human or a desperate alien, who was he to judge when it was a multi-million dollar contract? "To Sauna it is." He thought to himself, rolling back his shoulders.

---------

Renard had been patient up to the point when they were issued uniforms. "Pink? What the hell kind of mission are we on?" Of course, Saina didn't disappoint: miserable, sweaty, and pink. Of course, that also described Renard fairly accurately at the time, as he itched with gusto at every inch of exposed skin.

As much as he internally griped, Renard rather quickly accustomed himself to the harsh environment. After all, he'd done worse -at one point he took up 'work' in Detroit, so this jungle of a planet couldn't be that bad, could it?

---------

When it came time to go to work in the jungle, Renard for the first time took notice of the soldiers with whom he worked. Obviously he understood the concept that they were all the best of the best, but it was only when they began moving through the jungle that he could comprehend just how lethal these men and women were. They moved through the jungle like it was nothing, looking more like vicious predators than humans.

As massive as he was, Renard never was the gentle type -moving through the overgrowth he was very conscious of every broken branch and crunched leaf pile beneath his feet as he moved with his team. He held his Negev rather casually in his right hand, treating the weapon more like a sidearm than a 7.6 kilogram death dealer.

His head stayed pointed forwards as his eyes scanned a slow pattern across their path. Still, unused to this environment, Renard had a hard time telling one pink from the next, and saw very little of note. It was only when Danny gave the signal to freeze that Renard noticed anything. He took a knee, staying as low to the ground as his frame would allow as he raised his Negev in the direction of the targets. Taking in a deep breath, he silently moved the lever on the side of the grip from "S" to "R" then, after a moment of consideration, to "A". His fingers flexed around the grip of his weapon, as he waited patiently for the shitstorm to commence.

Monsoon Imminent: A Risk of Rain inspired RP (Sci-Fi Survival)

"...and so he left, with everything but his humanity"

Monsoon Imminent: A Risk of Rain RP

_{The Premise}

The year is 2056. You, for whatever reason, have been placed aboard the U.E.S. Contact Light, a glorified mail truck in space, albeit the size of a small city. Your otherwise seamless trip is interrupted by a massive shuddering in the ship, as the power goes out and red alarms begin flaring around you. You feel the sickening pull of gravity for the first time in a long while, and lose consciousness. When you awake you are on a planet alien even to you, lying among the wreckage of the Contact Light. Be you a hired gun, a prisoner, or a simple seeker or fortune, you now have only one goal: Survive.

_{The Lore}

While NASA and SpaceX did their damnedest to bring humanity to space, their efforts never really improved since 2020. Sure, we could get things out to space, but it was damn expensive, and the trips were short as could be. 2045 came along, and that all changed. Definitive proof of 'wormholes' was found, though not quite how scientists might like it. They just called it a wormhole because 'giant glowing purple portal in the middle of Brisbane' was a bit of a mouthful. After extensive testing, it was found that the portal lead to a planet light-years away. News quickly spread, but not before the relatively small SysTech corporation got control of the portal, and effectively the planet itself. Quick to action, they began work on the new planet, and discovered the planet was rich with volatile liquid that was twice as effective as any synthetic rocket fuel on Earth. With this as a bargaining chip, SysTech locked the superpowers of the Earth into supporting them. They were re-branded the United Earth Corporation, and began colonizing the new world. This began an age of wonder and exploration, as ships were sent out to explore the distant system labelled Simmons-1, in honor of SysTech's late founder. Signs of life were discovered among the planets, in the derelict ruins and artifacts with inexplicable power. Exploration has just begun of the neighboring system of Simmons-2, lead by the finest freighter possessed by humanity: The UES Contact Light.

_{OoC Information}

This RP will be heavily based on the game Risk of Rain. While it's a great game I'd suggest anyone play, having played it is by no means a prerequisite for this RP -the game is very vague when it comes to lore, so I'll be taking quite a few liberties myself.
The RP itself will be based around both surviving the harsh environment and waves of angry fauna, and solving the mystery of what exactly happened to the Contact Light. The survivors of the crash can come from all walks of life -miners, hunters, mercenaries, and janitorial robots can all find a place on the UES Contact Light, and anyone in between.

More information to come if interest crops up : )

Wild Cards AU [High Casual Superpowered fun!]

RIP Hype train 2k17-2soon, you will be dearly missed.

Foreign Legion [First Contact/Uplift/Military Sci-Fi]

Also, I just did a look over the roster, and we've got three US Marine Force Recon/MARSOC types.

I think it might be a fun idea to go ahead and figure out what other countries offer similar experience to the Marine Corps and maybe convert the characters over to these nations. I notice no Germans, South Africans, Cubans, Colombians, Brits (Besides Collins), Australians, PRC Chinese, Poles, Finns, Nepalese or Thai.

So if people want to voluntarily convert from Marine to something else, that's cool. Also, I can give a heads up on some of these nations and their capabilities. There are a number of good naval commando/marine infantry units to choose from in other nations, notably the British Special Boat Service who are both insane and awesome as hell.

@HeySeuss

I'd be cool tossing my nationality around, but I might need some help with that, haha. I'm barely familiar with the USA Marines, let alone other countries

Wild Cards AU [High Casual Superpowered fun!]

"Agabah"

_Name:

Nathan P. Blunt "Agabah"

_Age:

25

_{Birth Place:}

Brooklyn, New York City

_Appearance:

Tall and thin from his manifestation of the Wild Card virus, Agabah hides his near-skeletal figure under a heavy winter jacket with a boisterous fur collar. Under this, he wears ill-fitting dress clothes, in an attempt to both hold on to his past self, and fight off the endless shivers that came with the virus. His hunched-over posture and jerky movements make him an eerie figure to look upon, not mentioning the hollow husk of a face he bares to the world.

_{Drawn Card:}

Joker-Ace

_{Card Manifestation:}

The Wild Card virus twisted his appearance into something so horrible it seems only fiction could explain it. His skin became leathery and gray, hugging tight to his bones as his muscle withered to almost naught. Stag-like horns protruded from both his back and head, and his fingers grew long and thin. His face was the worst victim, shedding its skin and elongating into a chilling animalistic skull.
Ask any bystander what power he manifested from his card, and they would say super-speed without hesitation, but that isn't quite correct. Rather, Agabah simply experiences the world slower than everyone else. If effect, this makes him fast -his walking pace can easily overtake a jogging man. While he benefits from many of the effects of this -the ability to move faster, lift more, and do more than the average human, from his eyesight it is a curse more than anything. He has trouble with even simple conversations, no longer feels warmth at even nearly the same degree as others, and experiences a generally duller world than others.

_{Character History:}

Nathan Blunt was born to a devout Catholic family. He and his kin adhered unquestioningly to Catholicism, dictating their lives by its principles. He lead an uneventful life, keeping mostly to himself as he watched a world of vice and sin grow around him. While he found his family express feelings of disdain towards the vulgar masses, Nathan found himself unable to feel the same -he saw the potential for virtue in all, even the lowest scum.

After his education at seminary school, Nathan went on to become a preacher for a small Catholic church in The Bronx, moving away from his family rather happily. He devoted his life to the church and its goers, rather passionately spreading his message to any and all that would listen to him. He became fairly popular, a charismatic personality that brought even those who strayed from organized religion to his cause. He found himself truly happy here, the happiest he had ever been -surrounded by nothing but love, he felt nothing could go wrong.

After some time, the church fell on financial troubles -a grassroots business man made a generous donation that brought it back on it's feet, and Nathan thanked God.

Nathan's sister was diagnosed with cancer, wasting away within weeks -it went into remission after one treatment, and Nathan thanked God.

Gang violence broke out on the street, and Nathan stepped in to intervene. Rushed to the hospital after catching a bullet with his chest, the doctors were able to remove the lead that pierced just above his lungs, and Nathan thanked God.

While in recovery, the virus struck, and Nathan was surrounded by violent death. Thanks to a miracle, Nathan was not among those violently killed by the virus, and he thanked God.

The virus twisted Nathan's visage, transforming him into a terrifying monster, but he was able to keep his mind, so Nathan thanked God.

After the incident, Nathan returned to his church to foster hope and reassure those he cared for in this time of trouble. The few surviving churchgoers who attended gazed upon Nathan's visage, and they did not see the Nathan Blunt who helped them through so many hard times -they saw the Devil himself before them, and they screamed. Nathan gave them his soul, poured out his heart to the people, hoping that they would look past his disturbing exterior, but all that came from his mouth was an unnatural rambling that scared off those who hadn't passed out. Indeed, everywhere he went, Nathan was faced with the same terrified looks on the faces of Aces, Nats, and Jokers alike. Even when alone, he found himself haunted by the screams of those he once loved and cared for.

He searched for something in his life for which he could thank God, but he found nothing. He felt nothing but a cold dull numbness inside, and was only given fear and rage from the outside. How was it, that God could do something like this to one of his most devout followers? Nathan refused to believe it was possible -he denounced any god from his life, turning from the Catholicism that once drove him. He soon found that he had nowhere to go, and nothing driving him forward.

Nathan heard news of Jokertown, and went there, seeking anything other than the emptiness he felt. On his long road to Jokertown, Nathan saw a young man, no more than 16, on the floor being kicked in the side by a group of similarly aged men. The victim was badly deformed, glassy green marble-like growths all over his body. Nathan felt something he hadn't felt in a very long time when he saw this -warmth. Falling back to some primal impulse, he charged down the young men. By the time the third noticed Nathan's presence, the first two had fallen, gore spilling across the pavement. Nathan bathed in the blood of the men, for the first time since the incident actually feeling.

After the warmth faded and Nathan looked down at his own blood-soaked figure kneeling in a pile of gore, Nathan was both scared and disgusted with himself. Nathan did his best to keep his head down when he reached Jokertown and settled in, but apparently the young man he saved had been connected to the Demon Princes, who came knocking and very forcibly 'suggested' he join them. Nathan found himself scared of the monster that had killed the three men and bathed in the blood, but he saw the Demon Princes as an opportunity to find a purpose in life, and bring back the warmth without giving in to his own demons -and so emerged Agabah.

_{Jokertown Role:}

Member of the Demon Princes, relatively new.

Wild Cards AU [High Casual Superpowered fun!]

<Snipped quote by Red Room>

Sure! We're working on the first IC post now, so plenty of time.

@Ruby

Right on! I'll get right to it

Wild Cards AU [High Casual Superpowered fun!]

Yo, I'd love to join in, if you've got the room?

Foreign Legion [First Contact/Uplift/Military Sci-Fi]

_NAME:

Serge Jr., Renard M.

_AGE:

32

_GENDER:

Male

_NATIONALITY:

French

_{FORMER UNIT:}

Légion Étrangère, 2e Régiment Etranger de Parachutistes
(French Foreign Legion, 2nd Foreign Parachute Regiment)

_ROLE:

Automatic Rifleman

_{PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:}

Headshot

Renard stands at an impressive 6'5", with a build to match -a hulking mass of muscle that might make one wonder what the hell he was fed as a child. His posture does nothing to help this, as he has a habit of stretching out as tall as he can and puffing his chest out, like he's constantly doing his best Superman impression. This follows through in his walk, as he tends to take long, straight legged strides, with his arms hanging loose at his sides. He accents this with tight-fitting shirts and jackets.

_SKILLSET:

◦ Highly capable mechanical skill and knowledge.
◦ Trained in the maintenance of both small and large scale munitions.
◦ Extremely knowledgeable in the world of agriculture.
◦ Accustomed to the logistics of small-scale ground operations.
◦ Some hand-to-hand training.
◦ Extensive tactical prowess
◦ Impressive marksmanship with many firearms -in some solo operations, he has been mistaken for a squad of armed men.

_HISTORY:

Renard's father was a French immigrant, who found his way into owning a small ranch in Nord-Pas-de-Calais. Just like his father worked tooth and nail to build his ranch into a living, Renard knew only work for the front half of his life -he dedicated more to the ranch than many dedicate to their life's work. The only son, much of the heavy lifting fell onto Renard as he came of age.
After a dispute between his mother and father, a divorce came, splitting the family. Though Serge wanted very much to stay with his father, the law favored his mother when it came to custody. So, he and his sibling spent the majority of their time under the care of their mother, who pushed them to get a good education, rather than follow any passions. Upset as he was, Renard said nothing, instead pursuing the wonderful world of engineering into university.
After scraping through high school, Renard made his way directly back to his father's ranch to work again, and carry on his fathers legacy, once his time came. This satisfied both Renard Jr. and Sr., and they worked happily for a good year, making memories and profit.
The end of the year brought tragedy to Renard's life -the odds stacked up against him, and came crashing down. After weeks of 'military test flights' over the farmland area, an unfortunate accident had a jet come crashing down directly on the farmhouse while Renard watched helplessly from the field. By the time he got there, most of the house was ash, and his father's blood had dried along the walls, leaving only a reddish-brown ghost.
Renard strode off on his own after that -his mother lived halfway across the country, and likely didn't care about the news. Taking a recommendation from a Belgian friend, Renard joined him in enlisting in the French Foreign Legion, claiming to be Belgian. His skill and brutal efficiency lead to him being inducted into the ranks of the 2nd Foreign Parachute Regiment.
After suffering a debilitating head wound during an operation, Renard was retired early. After a more or less painless recovery of a few months, Renard took to the role of a for-hire mercenary: doing less-than-legal things for less-than-legal payments. After a while of playing cat and mouse with authorities, he heard news of Centurion, and offered up his services.

_{PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE:}

Rather desensitized, Renard has given up on the issue of 'morality'. Having been tossed around by higher forces most of his life, Renard has given up on any notion of a grey area in life -there is only right and wrong, and he has no qualms in correcting any wrongs he perceives. When he believes he is doing right, he becomes efficient and cold in behavior. He is friendly enough when not operating, but tends to be a bit quiet and distant -often forgetting entirely the topic at hand. Though he comes across as ruthless in his cold efficiency, he is a deeply compassionate figure. He takes the upmost care to not inflict collateral damage, and cares about those close to him -those he considers family more than anything else. That said, he does have a nasty streak of lashing out passive-aggressively (or sometimes just aggressively) when he is irritated.

_EQUIPMENT:

◦ Combat shirt, finger-less leather gloves, cargo pants, combat boots.
◦ Kevlar body-armor.
◦ Tool kit, specs for firearm maintenance and reparations of heavy machinery. Some smaller odds and ends included as well.
◦ Standard communications equipment, etc.
◦ IMI Negev.
◦ Kel-Tec KSG.
◦ M1911A1.
◦ 11 3/8" Bowie Knife.
◦ Lighter, cigarettes.

Foreign Legion [First Contact/Uplift/Military Sci-Fi]

@Red Room It would make more sense if the guy had some sort of military experience prior to Dyncorp. I mean, usually those contractors grab from militaries and most job descriptions I checked out highly suggest previous military experience.

@HeySeuss

Alrighty, I edited it up a bit. The changed parts are colored for ease of reading.