TentacleLord

Machines(Mechs, Mecha, and Powered Armor Oh my!) Interest Check

Some Examples of Mobile Armor(Not own design.):




Some Examples of Mobile Suits(Again, not own Design):




An Example of a Character Sheet:
Name: Jonathan Marx
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Looks(Picture not Required): Messy, neck length dirty blonde hair. Green eyes with large lines underneath them from lack of sleep. A murky not-quite pale, not quite tan skin color. Average height, pilot suit consists of a grey full body suit, complete with a helmet that links directly to the mechs main camera.
Mobile Weapon(Picture not Required, but Recomended): Example MECHA-T6

-Crew: One
-Height: 12.36 meters
-Weight: 36.56 tons
-Power Source: Compact Nuclear Reactor.
Weapons:
-Double-Barreled Beam Rifle "SuperExample Beam": Fires two beams in rapid successtion. Cooldown time is close to thirty seconds before it safe to shoot again.
Shell-Firing Shortrifle "Dingbat": Compact weapon made for shooting large quantities of metal at a target in a short amount of time.
Personality: Worst. In all seriousness, he drinks heavily, smokes, has done nearly every drug known(and some unknown), and is an insomniac. Curses like a sailor, and while not entirely misogynistic, a lot of his viewpoints are ignorant and his suggestions are usually as offensive as they are numerous. Seems to like doing his job, or just does it because he has nothing better to do with his time. While an exceptionally skilled pilot(and by proxy a relatively good mechanic), he often goes through partners due to his rather grating actions and words.
Short Biography: Jonathan Walker was born to a young woman in a central part of the junkyard, which was conquered and currently controlled by a medium sized bandit group called the "Metal Warriors". These so-called conquerors never posed much of a threat to any of the larger bandit groups nor the large paramilitaries, so they remained in power for much of Jonathan's early years. During this time, the young man was drafted into the ranks of the various support personal for updating and maintaining the bandits many mobile weapons.
A few years passed before fate finally found a way to bring down a hammer on the "Metal Warrors", in the form of Dynamo Corporation. Dynamo, a highly successful producer of mechs, began to spread out to the wastes, with one of the first territories being taken those of the much weaker and less well-equipped Metal Warriors. The resulting slaughter nearly destroyed the bandit gang to the last man, and Dynamo annexed the persons and land that the now-dead gang had been hoarding, including the young Jonathan. He was swiftly drafted into the paramilitary as a full-time pilot, and thus spent years honing his skills both on and off the battlefield, even as his social skills and his life outside of work declined into oblivion.
Currently has been assigned to the area around the hub known only as Haven as a solo agent and recruiter for Dynamo for the office that is inside Haven proper.

Blank Sheet

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Looks:
Mobile Weapon:
Weapons:
Personality:
Short Biography:

Song of Betrayal | Fire Emblem

High above the now spawning battle, Logan was quite happily reading his tome. It spoke of wondrous things, of fire, of death, and the blaze which linked the two in a way that was exceptionally unhealthy. The mage's lips curled into a grin, the possibilities of how such a violent magic could be used dancing around his mind like so many flames. Black eyes sparkled with unnatural light as he looked up from his book, closing the tome with a snap lest he be tempted to use it on some unsuspecting fool. It was then he glanced down, and remained staring at the small flashes of light thousands of feet below.

He reached over and shook Lumara's leg. "Hey Lumara. I think there's a problem. And this would be the time where I ask if it's okay to throw a magical bolt off your wyvern. Well, not so much a bolt of magic as it... would be a kind of magical long-range blast. Should turn at least one of them into a mutilated mess." Logan reached into his coat and replaced the Dying Blaze tome and yanked out his purple Mire tome, humming with glee. "Well, if anything, can you hold Caius steady? I'd like to be able to hit the enemy over your companions."

Machines(Mechs, Mecha, and Powered Armor Oh my!) Interest Check

Machines

Backstory:
The land is barren, and littered with ruins of tall buildings and husks of once-powerful machines. Metal is abound in this desert of an age past, and the hardy people who live there have found ways to repair some of the fallen mechs and stake a claim of the massive junkyard. Now bandits and their mechs have collectively amassed a huge amount of territory, with most of the wasteland people living under them like serfs. It is not an easy life, but it makes the resilient people even stronger.

However, comfortable life is still supported at oasis's of the land, where the fresh water and delicate plants still are. It is here that companies rise to power, and begin to take an interest in the world that has shunned human life for decades. The most powerful company, Dynamo Industries, was the first to send out "reclamation parties" personal army groups of solders and pilots, to "reclaim the lost land from the savages." As if in a race for more power, the rest of the companies followed suit, creating a sort of battle royale in the once(cough *never *cough) calm junkyard.

The majority of the work in the land for a mech pilot that isn't in either the bandits' forces or in one of the major paramilitaries belong to either corporations or the small counties is an effective freelancer, who takes jobs as they can get them. The main acquisition of these jobs is a large network (creatively called 'The Network'), where everyone from bandit lords to merchants to military commanders post jobs. These range from assassinations to simple clean up of a certain area to escort duties for goods.

Information on the Junkyard:
A large(continent sized) expanse of fallen mechs and vast weapons of ages past. Sand and dirt lie underneath the metal mountains and dunes, making it exceptionally hard to navigate unless using some sort of vehicle. The only creatures native to the horrible place are the rampart infestation of a beast called lizard-bear. While holding no relation to either, they are aptly named as a sort of scaled hell-beast that eats every other living thing it comes across(namely other lizard-bears, and of course, humans). The oasis's are the main producers of the food that supports the junkyard, ranging from bear-lizard jerky to a hardy vegetable that is impossible to identify. Smaller places that can provide food also exist, usually the small monarchies and republics outside of the view of both the businesses and the bandit lords.

Mechs and Limitations of the Times:
The Mechs fall into broadly two categories. Mobile suits are usually in a more upright, forming the more traditional silhouette of a large metal knight, and are usually more utilitarian than mobile armors on a case to case basis. Mobile armors pretty much cover everything else, with every kind of shape and role known to man built into a more specialized mech that will excel in situations that are in it's favor. Average size and tonnage for a mobile suit are around 11 meters and about thirty five to fourty tons. For a mobile armor, the number is slightly smaller, although the range from which the average is taken is larger. Thus, the average size is around 10 meters, and the average tonnage is about twenty five to thirty tonnes.

Both mobile armor and moblie suits are mainly ground based. Flying armor and suits are present, but very rare, and devour fuel incredibly fast, thus making it a risky business. However, both MS and MA usually have omni-directional thrusters built in as a standard to navigate the junkyard proper. Long range weapons are strictly line of sight and some laser guiding, as making large guided missiles is a lost technology and thus both space travel and ICBMs and such missiles are unseen and thus unheard of in this day and age.

Weaponry triangle(or Polydecahedron):
Namely concerning the almost rock-paper-scissors type of weapons.
What with heat weapons cutting through armor like so much paper, and thus having relatively no way to block them except gain more armor and heat dispersion.
However, plasma weapons cut through heat weapons and armor like again, so much paper. However, plasma weapons can be dispersed by destabilizing the magnetic field that holds them together, so shielding is much easier than against heat weapons, thus completing the kind of not really cycle.
In ranged weapons, large caliber slugs are viewed as inferior, but cheap and able to pack a punch. A defense against this is magnetic fields, built into heavy metal shields that point away from the sensitive electronics in the cockpit. Plasma bolts are much the same as their melee their counterparts, cutting through armor but easier to block than both slugs and beams. Beams are the worst kind of ranged weapon to run into, the only way to block them is to have enough armor and heat dispersion and hope they don't grill the pilot before they destroy the engine. However, these are very much one off weapons, generating stupid amounts of heat that can and will grill the man using them or melt the gun that fires them if not careful.

Song of Betrayal | Fire Emblem

Same here.

Song of Betrayal | Fire Emblem

In that case, I'm gonna ask you if Lumara and Logan can support and see how that turns out.

Song of Betrayal | Fire Emblem

Speaking of Supports, how exactly are they handled, other than being on a collaboration site? The two players who control two characters start one up and have it go from there?

Song of Betrayal | Fire Emblem

So, will the fight happen whether or not we agree to it, or will the Shepherds escape.

Song of Betrayal | Fire Emblem

The stillness of the sky was almost startling to Logan as he looked around, listening for Lumara's answers. He didn't have to yell to be heard, and yet they were still floating on the breeze. It seemed dreamlike, with nothing supporting his ride but thousands of feet of air, the ground far, far, below with it's problems down there. He could see how Lumara felt at peace up here. There was literally not a single person that even approached this altitude for miles around, much beyond what Logan's dark eyes could see. It wasn't lonely, but more... free. Away from all the troubles, finally quiet. A sanctuary, he supposed. Although... the nearly pitch black eyes turned directly downward, staring down at the puny people below him. Such tiny beings in a huge world. So easy to... kill, to smash. There was a briefest moment as Logan calculated the range of his Mire tome, and realized how happy he was the results. Perfect. To be able to fling magic from here, no chance of retribution... it was a different kind of bliss, one much more sinister and grim. So this was a new kind of power. The dark mage made a note to remain on good terms with the wyvern lord, if just for these tantalizing choices of relaxation and battle.

"I'll assume that was a rhetorical question." Logan's response was as dry as the desert sands, tearing his eyes of the the horizon and the small specks that were the people going about their daily lives. He took the time to reach into his robes, pulling out his much worn Dying Blaze tome. It felt hot to the touch, even with the night's chill still set about the other books. The scent of burnt leather and merrily blazing wood filled the air, Logan breathing in deeply as the musty smell of wyvern and fire mixed, forming a scent cocktail that was usually only reserved for great battles. He loved it. "Do you mind if I read? I haven't gotten peace and quiet like this since... Well, a long time ago. I promise not to fling magic off Caius unless explicitly needing too." He had already cracked the book open, devouring the knowledged hidden within the burnt pages(They fluttered in the breeze, small scraps flying off every now and again) and absorbing the sooty scent like a wet rag.

Song of Betrayal | Fire Emblem

As soon as Lumara had suggested he hang on tight, Logan did as such, his arms snaking around her midriff and drawing him close. The following rush was, for lack of a better word, exhilarating. Wind rushed past in a deafening roar, the dry air being mostly blocked by the wyvern and Lumara herself. The world dropped away as the sun's rise above the horizon was accented with altitude. Clear skies lay ahead and in front, the desert's signature heat seeming to increase as the beast rose. He could feel the beat of the wyvern's wings, every flap accented by a spasm of muscles in the lower back. There was no doubt that he was at the mercy of the rider(probably how she liked it, he assumed). There was only the trust that she wouldn't order the monster to throw him off. The fall would kill him violently, turning him from living man to bundle of flesh thrown against the hard packed sand. Logan, however, basked in the terror and excitment like the heat of his desert home. This was an experience that he'd never felt before and only considered possible by remote reasons, and thus it was wonderful.

As the draconic form of Caius leveled off high above the sandy ground, Logan took a chance to looked around as Lumara had suggested. He remained still and nearly slient for quite some time, before a faint squeal of excitement escaped from his lips, curving them into a smile. "Amazing! This is... everything I could I hoped for! This is experience that I can use! I can learn here! I can see here! Plegia has never looked so small, and yet so large! I... I enjoy this." His grin was both toothy and almost infectiously happy. This was worth the chair to the face, the questions, the knowledge that he'd be traveling with less than intelligent people, and all the other bad things that had made up his morning. This was pure pleasure, and he'd damn well make the most of it. "...It's brilliant. You enjoy being up here? Can you tell much about what's on the ground? Have you ever engaged in a fight this high up?"

Song of Betrayal | Fire Emblem

Of Logan's observations, the one that stood out the most was the seeming bitterness of the bandaged man in charge of battered remains of the Shepherds. The dark mage liked that. No optimism, less chance of dying an ugly death by Ylissean spears. It was almost refreshing compared to the seeming good spirits of the rest of the party. But for all that, there was a barest hint of magic around the wounded man on the horse that Logan couldn't place. It was familiar, yes, but it was so faint it seemed he was constantly imagining it. Stranger and stranger. Perhaps he'd have to have words with this mystery of a man later, as mages always promised at least some form of intelligent conversation.

He continued his washing until Talbot asked his question, giving the faintest hint of a sigh before replying. Out of all the chances in the world, he'd chosen the inquisitive group of surviving Shepards. "Simply put, I don't care about the risks as I find the reward much greater. More eloquently put, I find the chance of discovering knowledge and the chance to access knowledge that has lain fallow with the Shepherds for decades to be a much greater draw that the chance I get more wounded than I'd like. Speaking of which, why do you fight, then, knowing that you could end up more wounded, and die alone as Ylissean blades draw across your band of followers, slaughtering them as you ordered them to fight?" A rather nasty question, to be sure, but Logan had been hit with a chair, prodded for answers, and then prodded for answers yet again. He wanted to be a bit nasty. Before he could get an answer, he heard Lumara call to him, and thus flashed a rather harsh smile at Talbot as the dark mage slid over to the wyvern.

Logan fastened his neck-guard closed once more as he looked Lumara up and down, giving a quiet whistle of approval. "Yes, yes, here I am. You paint quite a picture with the two of you. Lumara, do you mind helping me up?" He proffered his hand, the leap to Caius' back proving to be a bit much with the excitement of the morning.