Current
god gives his comfiest naps to his strongest snoozers
2
likes
2 yrs ago
ai art produces unhealthy and unrealistic beauty standards of how many fingers our hands should have
5
likes
2 yrs ago
yoshitsune is a lot of effort when naoto can sweep most trash mobs with instakills and the majority of endgame bosses have innate phys resistance
1
like
2 yrs ago
the status bar is great because you can force an entire website to listen to your stream of consciousness and since there's no block or mute function there's nothing anyone can do about it
9
likes
2 yrs ago
decades since the concept of a music video first debuted and humanity has still yet to top ok go hopping across treadmills in what is very clearly a community hall they rented for the day
1
like
Bio
udon 21 y/o from ireland, he/they have roleplayed for somewhere around a decade now through various mediums, 1x1 and group. advanced writer who still uses "furrowed their brow" every time a character reacts to anything
testimonials: "udon you are my hero" - duskkyy "Soooo like. Udon right? Love that guy!" - Icarus "I want to talk to Udon about the fall of Constantinople" - Cloaked "an udon sandwich is EXTREMELY possible" - David "bearing in mind here udon is a massive homosexual" - megar "udon do you ever stop to think about the things you type before you type them" - Igloo "Udon the kinda fella who exhales unnecessarily loudly after having a drink" - Lava "IMAGINE I just walk into a shop and I see udon there. I’d just freak out. I’d flip it. It’d be bonkers. It’s mental. I’d go insane. Totally crazy." - Icarus, again "udon isn't human" - RoseWolf "I frankly don’t even know if Udon exists." - SomeMekBoy
interested! i believe we were in secret wars together a while back, which never really got off the ground. but the concept of reimaginings definitely hooked me, so i'd love to try it again here!
as for character ideas, i have a few, but i generally like to wait and see what others do first so i can play off of them. currently, though, im considering iron lad, loki, and wiccan for reimaginings.
LIKES SUMMERTIME HORTICULTURE PIANO-PLAYING COFFEE DISLIKES LOUD NOISES THE TOUCH OF VELVET STRANGE MEN THE COLD
s k í l l s & w є α k n є s s є s ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
STRENGTHS ☀ In the blood of the Bruja flows peacefulness and restoration. Though a magical novice, Elio has a strong inclination towards defensive and supportive magic, such as counter-spells, "utility" spells, and healing or mending magic.
☀ Eli is intelligent, with the wit to put it into action on the move. He can quite easily grasp new concepts and deconstruct them to their fundamentals, and his memory is equally as sharp as his mind.
☀ From time in the garden with his grandmother, Eli had a head start when it came to Herbology. Thus, he took to the subject quite well.
☀ Eli is emotionally resilient: He works well under pressure, and isn't easily frightened or upset.
WEAKNESSES ☁ Elio is woefully disinterested in, and unskilled at, hexes and offensive magic. The best he can do is guard against it and win duels through attrition.
☁ Eli's focus on detail can often come at a detriment—it can be hard for him to zoom out and see the wider picture.
☁ Eli isn't very socially intelligent. He's no sweet-talker, instead having to rely on pure reason to sway opinions rather than gentle, methodical persuasion.
☁ Eli's stubbornness to stand by his opinions can cause friction with prospective allies or teammates.
OUTLOOK / IDEALS / PERSPECTIVE ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Eli has yet to be properly, fully introduced to the supernatural world. He regards it on the whole with a sense of guarded intrigue: Like a scientist studying a new specimen, he takes a vested interest, and care to make sure it won't swallow him whole.
Of the vampires, Eli is wary. Duplicity seems to be in their nature, and a combination of their insular social circles and the heavy regulations placed upon them is worrying indeed. They could easily be alienated from the rest of society, Eli reckons, pushed further into tribalism and xenophobia. Nonetheless, they're worth looking into—they "get around", so to speak, and make useful confidants. Their favour is worth courting even in a purely pragmatic sense.
Of the werewolves, ELi is more open-minded. Still, he remains cautious around them—if only because it's difficult to relax around creatures that could dismember you with a flick of their wrist. He's not exceptionally interested them from an academic perspective, though their history with vampires is certainly an intriguing one. Otherwise, he doesn't treat them any differently to humans.
To Eli, humans are fine. He has no exceptionally strong opinions about his own species—though he does find it interesting that, surrounded by all-powerful supernatural beings, it was somehow the witches and wizards that came out on top.
AMBITIONS ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ➽➽➽ Eli’s ultimate goal is to find his place in the world—the whole world, not just the supernatural or mundane halves. Rather than give himself entirely over to his magical heritage, or shirk it entirely and live a life of normalcy, he wants to strike a balance. How can he have the best of both worlds, and enjoy all that his life has to offer without making sacrifices? Can it be done? Or will he be forced to choose eventually?
Immediately, Eli’s goal in the present is to combat the tempting wiles of the magic world. He’s determined not to let the supernatural seduce him, and thus wants to keep his distance from it where possible. He wants to learn more about it from a logical, unbiased angle, and avoid being mesmerised into ignoring its flaws. In a similar vein, Eli is resolved not to fall too deep into the cliques and inner circles of Hawthorne. Rather, he wants to be an arbitrator—the diplomat that can freely glide from group to group without attracting aspersions or scrutiny. The greater the circle of those who consider him a confidant, the more freely he can learn what he wants to know.
Conversely, Eli is not overly motivated to pursue his magical studies just yet. He coasts by just fine, but is not seized by a desire for power or mastery like some of his peers.
FEARS ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ➽➽➽ Autophobia - the specific phobia of isolation. Elio’s greatest fear is that he does not, and will never, belong. For much of his life, he has coasted by alone, meeting and interacting with people but never truly interacting with them. He has never had a group or “tribe” he can claim to belong to, nor anywhere he felt truly at home. Consequently, one of Eli’s greatest fears is himself: He fears that something is fundamentally wrong with him, that he is an inherent deterrent to others. He fears the depths his isolation could cause him to sink to, and how difficult it could be to escape it.
Atelophobia - the obsessive fear of imperfection. Elio must put his best foot forward, always. If he cannot do something to the best of his ability, he dreads it. He has a compulsive need to prove himself to others: To validate himself as a person deserving of his station in life. If he cannot achieve his best results every time, then why try at all? This phobia is minor alone, though becomes amplified when someone else is observing Eli.
в í σ g r α p h ч ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
Magically, Elio’s lineage can be traced far back to the dark ages of Spain. There, the Casablancas started as bruja: Witches, well-learned women ostracised from society for their ungendered inclinations about social expectations. Existing outside of both Muslim Almohad and Catholic Hispania society, they were soothsayers, healers, fortune tellers—far from the devil worshippers they’d been branded as, the bruja were devoted to using their powers to improving the lives of their families, and any community that would accept them. While the opposing religious forces skirmished for control of Iberia, they were free to live in relative peace—but that would soon change when the Catholics took control.
After the Reconquista, the Spanish Inquisition arrived to deliver their faith from the blade of a sword. The bruja were an obvious target—heathens, occultist pagans that besmirched the good Lord with their sinister magic and permissive thinking. The bruja, though knowledgeable in their chosen field, were not fighters. Their magic was restorative, passive. They couldn’t afford to put up any resistance to the Inquisition—and thus, were helpless against them.
To escape the witch trials of Basque, Eli’s ancestors devised a scheme. They cast the one spell that could possibly be used offensively—a hex, strong enough to curse an entire bloodline. But rather than use it to curse the Inquisition, they instead turned the spell on themselves: With this hex, no woman that carried their blood would ever be able to command magic again. All of their future daughters would be completely mundane, incapable of becoming bruja—and thus, safe from the Inquisition. They ultimately did not survive—but their children did, and so were taken into the care of a nunnery to be “saved”. The magic was banished from their blood. Though a tragic decision, it was ultimately a necessary one: Even in death, the bruja could safeguard their daughters. That was the exact word they had used. Daughters. The bruja had, after all, been an all female society. Unconsciously, their magic worked to ensure this, enchanting them so as to only sire girls. The repercussions of their wording had never occurred to them in their haste.
Generations passed. Stories passed with them—stories of the bruja, of their fateful hex to save their family. The lineage remained matriarchal, but ultimately fearful of magic and its consequences, especially as organised religion rose to greater prominence throughout the wider world. Sons were born, of course—it would have been a statistical impossibility for them not to be. But over and over, they were told of the dangers of magic. Their mothers were terrified of it, their fathers either agreeing or dismissing its existence entirely. Their disdain for their magic was so deeply ingrained, they would never have dared to explore it. It would be many years later, in the early 20th century, when the tide would begin to change.
It was 1965 when Antonia fled her ancestral home in Navarre, escaping the Francoists to take refuge in England. She had fought with the Spanish Maquis for many years against fascism, but was finally forced out as their guerilla resistance began to crumble. A rebel through and through, it was Antonia who finally had the courage to stand against her family’s dogma. She saw the bruja as heroes—women ahead of their time who lead their families and communities against injustice. Why would they besmirch their name when they had made the ultimate sacrifice to keep them safe? As she started a family of her own, Antonia was quick to turn tradition on its head: She celebrated the bruja, telling tales of their valiant deeds and portraying them as noble defenders.
Her daughter, Isabela, was less enthusiastic about such things. It was the 20th century, after all—no one really believed in witches anymore. She saw the tales as just that—tales, bedtime stories passed down through the family. Besides, even if they were real, what did it matter? The bruja were done for. Her ancestors had sealed away their magic forever, allegedly. It had no effect on her life in the present, and thus was of no relevance to her.
Redemption came soon, though, as Antonia met her first grandchild—specifically, her grandson. Named for his late grandfather, Elios Casablancas—her maiden name, boldly kept by her forward-thinking daughter—was brought into the world facing adversity. He never knew his father—Isabela barely knew him, either. A boyfriend who’d made a mistake and ran from it. But despite their differences, Antonia and Isabela were strong-willed women, and resolved to raise Elio together.
Thus, Elio was raised by two very different women—one a dreamer, the other a realist. He was always closer with his grandmother: She regalled him with tales of her time rebelling in Spain, as well as far-flung fantasies of the bruja’s magical exploits. Greater than that, she instilled in him a destiny: He was an oath-breaker. He was the child that could breach the hex, circumvent its conditions and take hold of his magical birthright. His mother, however, took a far more logical stance. She encouraged him not to be bedevilled by fantasies, and to look forward to the future with a logical gaze. Everything was worth scrutinising, everything worth learning more about.
Suffice to say that when contact between Hawthorne and Elio was made, he was sceptical. He saw no reason to doubt his grandmother’s stories: It didn’t take much digging to trace their mostly stationary family line back to the witch trials in Navarre. He was more satisfied than surprised when he finally began to correspond with the supernatural world—it was less like a revelation being uncovered and more like a theory being confirmed. His grandmother was the one he chose to confide in—and, unsurprisingly, she was overjoyed. She took great pains to ensure it was kept a secret from her more cynical daughter, helping Eli to spin an elaborate tale of a lucrative job up north to disguise his trip to Scotland.
With little resistance, Elio set off for Hawthorne. Already an outsider, he was determined to break through and uncover the whole truth of the supernatural—flaws and all. He’d walk a fine line between the fantasticism of his abuela, and the rationale of his mother.
interested! is there any specific type of magic the witches and wizards would specialise in, or would we have some wiggle room for unique spells within reason?
Appearance: Blond hair, closely cropped at the back and sides but looser on the top and front, recalls a more practical take on the immaculately-styled action heroes Jimmy had grown up with. His jaw is sharp, speckled with stubble from a close shave of the straight razor. He has a strong brow, his eyebrows often speaking for him where words would otherwise fail. A poker face he does not have—anyone attentive can easily get a read on him from his expressions. A short round nose and unusually rosy cheeks contrast his more angular features, giving him a more approachable look than some of the more hardened servicemen.
Jimmy is taller than the average person, assisted by the boots that come as standard with his uniform. Being a soldier, and very passionate about that fact, he’s very well built: Having grown up in a Vault, he lacks the disadvantage of malnutrition many Wastelanders have, and thus easily developed his muscles into a lithe, but strong frame, striking a balance between tone and mass.
Jimmy tends to prefer his vault suit for day-to-day wear, and even in more hostile scenarios, generally wears his NCR armour over it.
Personality: A rarity for the Wasteland, Jimmy is optimistic to the core. He soldiers on when most would succumb to despair, facing the dangers of the wasteland with little fear and much hope to see tomorrow. He will do everything he can to make a difference, however incremental it may be. Through the emulation of his action hero idols, he’s selfless and motivated to assist others: He’ll gladly put himself in harm’s way if someone else’s safety is on the line. He clears the air of tension with smart comments and rallies his compatriots with words of inspiration. Partially driven by this optimism, and partially driven by naivety, Jimmy sees the best in people and trusts their intentions are as pure as his—though he reserves harsh judgement for those the NCR would deem undesirable, such as the Legion remnants or the infamously testy Brotherhood of Steel.
Though not the most intelligent, Jimmy is quite socially and emotionally aware, in tune with the thoughts and feelings of others. This assists him greatly when it comes to bartering: He is a shrewd negotiator, cleverly navigating through logical hoops to reach a deal that both sides can be happy with. Rather than sweetening them up, Jimmy prefers a more practical and down-to-earth style of conciliation: He speaks in facts, of gains and losses, hazards and opportunities. He arrives at his deals through logic rather than sweet-talk, a surprising trait for someone often deemed dull or lacking in smarts. This pays dividends when it comes to teamwork: He can easily inspire others and rally them to him, not by clever wordsmithing, but with frank and honest encouragement.
Still, Jimmy tends to ignore his own needs for the sake of others. Emotionally he is quite starved, bottling up fears and anxieties so as not to become a burden or slow himself and others down. Refutations of his black and white world view often shake him, and he’s prone to shutting them out and falling back on the manufactured personality of his idols when confronted with contrary reasoning he cannot rebuke.
History / How they came to be part of Whitlash: Some two hundred years ago, Jimmy’s forebears were herded into the safe, lead-lined walls of Oregon’s Vault 50 to escape nuclear annihilation. It seemed a benevolent act of the American government—but their freedom came with a price. The inhabitants had been hand picked from a variety of factors: Voting history, involvement with anti or pro-war demonstrations, party membership, letters and phone calls made to senators and local representatives. An expansive vault, it had been designed to fit upwards of 535 inhabitants—or rather, members, and their families.
Any adults of voting age in the vault were assigned a district, some a state, and inducted into the so-called new American Congress. They were instructed that, because of their political activism, they had been selected by their party—Democratic or Republican—to act as a leading official, casting votes and making decisions to influence the future of their country. Their “president”—an Overseer, chosen for their total apathy to the political system—would occasionally receive notices from the Vault’s supercomputer. These notices would present conundrums or crises for the Congress to solve—and the Congress would debate endlessly over these made up issues, for the foreseeable future. Seats were inherited rather than voted for, by the oldest child of the current sitting member. The system was endlessly self-sustaining, and endlessly self-frustrating.
Vault 50’s experiment may very well have run until the end of time itself. However, it would be interrupted when, one fateful day, contact was made from the outside world. A group calling themselves the New California Republic had managed to open the Vault door, and were eager to interface with the inhabitants. It was a difficult process, given the shock that came when the inhabitants were eventually convinced their “civic duty” was a farce. Eventually, however, after much denial and deliberation, the inhabitants of Vault 50 voted unanimously to dissolve their Congress and assimilate into the NCR.
This was Jimmy’s first introduction to his new government—his new home. Already patriotically inclined, Jimmy idolised the NCR as the true continuation of America’s sacred democracy. They had presidents, states, taxes—it was truly the Old World that had been sealed from his ancestors two hundred years ago. With no frame of reference to the rest of the Wasteland, the NCR seemed the pinnacle of civilisation. Their civic duty would continue not as congresspeople, but as defenders of democracy. Enrollment into the military amongst Vault 50 residents was almost ubiquitous: At least one individual of fighting age from each family volunteered their services. Jimmy was eager for the day he, too, would get to fight for his people. He’d grown up with stories of the war, triumphs against China and decisive victories in places like Anchorage. He idolised the strong soldiers in power armour, toting laser-powered weapons of justice to smite any enemies of democracy. The American soldier, to Jimmy, was a paragon to aspire to. He wanted to be like them, one day—to fight on the front lines against tyranny, delivering democracy from the warm end of a Plasma Caster.
Death was a fate Jimmy’s heroes had always managed to defy. Countless times they’d evaded its clutches, seizing the day despite the odds. So it shook him, then, when they received news from the New Vegas front: His father had been killed in action, fallen against a Legion incursion at Nelson. Not exactly the most well-adjusted person, Jimmy chose not to process this at all—not to wrangle with the questions mortality confronted him with. Was he wrong about the world? Could this suffering have been avoided? Were the NCR truly throwing away the lives of their soldiers for nothing? These were all questions Jimmy buried within himself. Rather than letting it shake him, he used the event to strengthen his patriotism—his blind following of a shiny ideal amongst the dusty, desolate wasteland.
Finally, the time came for Jimmy to offer his services to the NCR. With the Battle of Hoover Dam won, and Caesar’s forces scattered to the north and north-east, Jimmy was dispatched from Wyoming into Montana. A food shortage was approaching: It was Jimmy’s job to scout for potential trade alliances, or fertile land for the NCR to send farmers to tend to. Wandering into the uncharted wilds of Montana, Jimmy happened upon the settlement of Whitlash—the ideal place to hunker down and call home for the duration of his mission. Best case scenario, they could even be folded into the NCR with enough persuasion.
For now, Jimmy lives a quiet life in Whitlash, doing all he can to support the local community and paint the NCR in a positive light for them.
Extras: It was customary for inhabitants of Vault 50 to be named after important figures in U.S. history. Jimmy, from the Democrat’s camp, is named after president Jimmy Carter, his ancestors having changed their last name to Van Buren somewhere along the line.
Jimmy is very knowledgeable on U.S. history, though his understanding of the Wasteland and its customs is admittedly somewhat shaky.
He’s fine with Stimpaks, Radaway, and their ilk, but Jimmy refuses to use chems like Jet, Mentats, or Med-X on principle.
Being a proud NCR citizen, as well as a Vault Dweller subjected to a cruel and unusual experiment, Jimmy is quite distrustful of the Old World government and the Enclave. He has yet to rationalise this belief with his patriotism in his head, and chooses not to think about it.
@Zeroth No problem with the extra details on my end, they fit Jimmy's character well.
@Letter Bee I'm fine with another NCR member, though them being Jimmy's direct superior may be a bit of a logistical stretch: Considering he was dispatched from an encampment in Wyoming, it would make sense for his superiors to be located there rather than following their scouts out into uncharted territory.
@Andromedai Would a Laser Pistol be alright? It's the lowest grade of combat-worthy Energy Weapon across the franchise, and in New Vegas you're given one right from the start if you pick Energy Weapons. If not, I may have to retool Jimmy a bit to fit another skill.
Appearance: Blond hair, closely cropped at the back and sides but looser on the top and front, recalls a more practical take on the immaculately-styled action heroes Jimmy had grown up with. His jaw is sharp, speckled with stubble from a close shave of the straight razor. He has a strong brow, his eyebrows often speaking for him where words would otherwise fail. A poker face he does not have—anyone attentive can easily get a read on him from his expressions. A short round nose and unusually rosy cheeks contrast his more angular features, giving him a more approachable look than some of the more hardened servicemen.
Jimmy is taller than the average person, assisted by the boots that come as standard with his uniform. Being a soldier, and very passionate about that fact, he’s very well built: Having grown up in a Vault, he lacks the disadvantage of malnutrition many Wastelanders have, and thus easily developed his muscles into a lithe, but strong frame, striking a balance between tone and mass.
Jimmy tends to prefer his vault suit for day-to-day wear, and even in more hostile scenarios, generally wears his NCR armour over it.
Personality: A rarity for the Wasteland, Jimmy is optimistic to the core. He soldiers on when most would succumb to despair, facing the dangers of the wasteland with little fear and much hope to see tomorrow. He will do everything he can to make a difference, however incremental it may be. Through the emulation of his action hero idols, he’s selfless and motivated to assist others: He’ll gladly put himself in harm’s way if someone else’s safety is on the line. He clears the air of tension with smart comments and rallies his compatriots with words of inspiration. Partially driven by this optimism, and partially driven by naivety, Jimmy sees the best in people and trusts their intentions are as pure as his—though he reserves harsh judgement for those the NCR would deem undesirable, such as the Legion remnants or the infamously testy Brotherhood of Steel.
Though not the most intelligent, Jimmy is quite socially and emotionally aware, in tune with the thoughts and feelings of others. This assists him greatly when it comes to bartering: He is a shrewd negotiator, cleverly navigating through logical hoops to reach a deal that both sides can be happy with. Rather than sweetening them up, Jimmy prefers a more practical and down-to-earth style of conciliation: He speaks in facts, of gains and losses, hazards and opportunities. He arrives at his deals through logic rather than sweet-talk, a surprising trait for someone often deemed dull or lacking in smarts. This pays dividends when it comes to teamwork: He can easily inspire others and rally them to him, not by clever wordsmithing, but with frank and honest encouragement.
Still, Jimmy tends to ignore his own needs for the sake of others. Emotionally he is quite starved, bottling up fears and anxieties so as not to become a burden or slow himself and others down. Refutations of his black and white world view often shake him, and he’s prone to shutting them out and falling back on the manufactured personality of his idols when confronted with contrary reasoning he cannot rebuke.
History / How they came to be part of Whitlash: Some two hundred years ago, Jimmy’s forebears were herded into the safe, lead-lined walls of Oregon’s Vault 50 to escape nuclear annihilation. It seemed a benevolent act of the American government—but their freedom came with a price. The inhabitants had been hand picked from a variety of factors: Voting history, involvement with anti or pro-war demonstrations, party membership, letters and phone calls made to senators and local representatives. An expansive vault, it had been designed to fit upwards of 535 inhabitants—or rather, members, and their families.
Any adults of voting age in the vault were assigned a district, some a state, and inducted into the so-called new American Congress. They were instructed that, because of their political activism, they had been selected by their party—Democratic or Republican—to act as a leading official, casting votes and making decisions to influence the future of their country. Their “president”—an Overseer, chosen for their total apathy to the political system—would occasionally receive notices from the Vault’s supercomputer. These notices would present conundrums or crises for the Congress to solve—and the Congress would debate endlessly over these made up issues, for the foreseeable future. Seats were inherited rather than voted for, by the oldest child of the current sitting member. The system was endlessly self-sustaining, and endlessly self-frustrating.
Vault 50’s experiment may very well have run until the end of time itself. However, it would be interrupted when, one fateful day, contact was made from the outside world. A group calling themselves the New California Republic had managed to open the Vault door, and were eager to interface with the inhabitants. It was a difficult process, given the shock that came when the inhabitants were eventually convinced their “civic duty” was a farce. Eventually, however, after much denial and deliberation, the inhabitants of Vault 50 voted unanimously to dissolve their Congress and assimilate into the NCR.
This was Jimmy’s first introduction to his new government—his new home. Already patriotically inclined, Jimmy idolised the NCR as the true continuation of America’s sacred democracy. They had presidents, states, taxes—it was truly the Old World that had been sealed from his ancestors two hundred years ago. With no frame of reference to the rest of the Wasteland, the NCR seemed the pinnacle of civilisation. Their civic duty would continue not as congresspeople, but as defenders of democracy. Enrollment into the military amongst Vault 50 residents was almost ubiquitous: At least one individual of fighting age from each family volunteered their services. Jimmy was eager for the day he, too, would get to fight for his people. He’d grown up with stories of the war, triumphs against China and decisive victories in places like Anchorage. He idolised the strong soldiers in power armour, toting laser-powered weapons of justice to smite any enemies of democracy. The American soldier, to Jimmy, was a paragon to aspire to. He wanted to be like them, one day—to fight on the front lines against tyranny, delivering democracy from the warm end of a Plasma Caster.
Death was a fate Jimmy’s heroes had always managed to defy. Countless times they’d evaded its clutches, seizing the day despite the odds. So it shook him, then, when they received news from the New Vegas front: His father had been killed in action, fallen against a Legion incursion at Nelson. Not exactly the most well-adjusted person, Jimmy chose not to process this at all—not to wrangle with the questions mortality confronted him with. Was he wrong about the world? Could this suffering have been avoided? Were the NCR truly throwing away the lives of their soldiers for nothing? These were all questions Jimmy buried within himself. Rather than letting it shake him, he used the event to strengthen his patriotism—his blind following of a shiny ideal amongst the dusty, desolate wasteland.
Finally, the time came for Jimmy to offer his services to the NCR. With the Battle of Hoover Dam won, and Caesar’s forces scattered to the north and north-east, Jimmy was dispatched from Wyoming into Montana. A food shortage was approaching: It was Jimmy’s job to scout for potential trade alliances, or fertile land for the NCR to send farmers to tend to. Wandering into the uncharted wilds of Montana, Jimmy happened upon the settlement of Whitlash—the ideal place to hunker down and call home for the duration of his mission. Best case scenario, they could even be folded into the NCR with enough persuasion.
For now, Jimmy lives a quiet life in Whitlash, doing all he can to support the local community and paint the NCR in a positive light for them.
Extras: It was customary for inhabitants of Vault 50 to be named after important figures in U.S. history. Jimmy, from the Democrat’s camp, is named after president Jimmy Carter, his ancestors having changed their last name to Van Buren somewhere along the line.
Jimmy is very knowledgeable on U.S. history, though his understanding of the Wasteland and its customs is admittedly somewhat shaky.
He’s fine with Stimpaks, Radaway, and their ilk, but Jimmy refuses to use chems like Jet, Mentats, or Med-X on principle.
Being a proud NCR citizen, as well as a Vault Dweller subjected to a cruel and unusual experiment, Jimmy is quite distrustful of the Old World government and the Enclave. He has yet to rationalise this belief with his patriotism in his head, and chooses not to think about it.
Thanks for the answers! With them in mind, I have a few ideas:
1) An NCR fanboy, now serving as a scout in the army. Originally belonging to a vault, he and his family were liberated from the ongoing experiment and assimilated into the union. The character and his fellow vault-dwellers would have revered the NCR, both for liberating them and for their resemblance to the familiar old world government they'd read and heard about from passed down stories. His father died in service out in Nevada, further fueling his tunnel-visioned admiration for the NCR. He'd be dispatched from an encampment in Wyoming (implied to be mostly tribal lands by Fallout New Vegas) to scout out potential alliances and solutions for an encroaching food shortage (Thomas Hildern, an NCR scientist in NV, expects a food shortage due to overpopulation about a decade after the game's events). Tag skills would be Energy Weapons, Barter and Survival.
2) A former Enclave scientist from the Chicago outposts. A controversial figure on base, he fundamentally disagreed with the Enclave's philosophy: Rather than believing that the Wasteland had tainted humanity, and Wastelanders, Mutants and Ghouls ought to be exterminated, he believed the opposite—that this was a new path of evolution for humans to take, and that they should be researching how to perfect it rather than trying to exterminate it. A combination of his counter-cultural views and dubiously ethical experiments to prove them led to his ousting from the base. He's since wandered the Wasteland to further his research, seeking to unlock the key to humanity's next step and leading the remainder of civilisation into a new, golden age. Tag skills would be Unarmed, Science and Medicine. (Unarmed may seem unorthodox for a scientist, but I figured it could be fun to subvert the usual trope of Energy Weapons. Plus, it would make sense for his character to keep himself in top physical condition, as he believes in pushing humanity to its limits and beyond.)
3) Originally a child soldier in the Legion, this character was driven out from Nevada by the NCR. Lead by a Centurion, he and a smattering of other soldiers fled into Wyoming, where they attempted to carry on the Legion philosophy as a tribe. Eventually, however, they would come into conflict with other enclaves of the Legion who disagreed with them, and suffered equally from internal squabbling. Gradually, the remainders of the Legion in Wyoming would break down, becoming more tribalistic and beginning to war with each other. Seeing no end to the conflict, this character chose to cut contact with his tribe: While they were in battle, he raided their tents for supplies and deserted them. Eventually, he ended up in Montana, where he now attempts to settle down and leave the scars of his old life behind. Tag skills would be Melee Weapons, Survival and Lockpick.
I figure I'll pick an idea based on GM feedback as to whether they're feasible, then by the balance of characters we already have as they start to appear—both to not repeat anything, and to offer interesting interaction and character dynamic potential.
if this is still open for applications, I'd be interested in joining. I have a few character concepts in mind, however I also have a few questions lore-wise:
1) Is there a given time period? Or can we assume this is post Fallout 4 (and thus all the other games)?
2) If it's post New Vegas, which faction is currently in control of Nevada?
3) How will S.P.E.C.I.A.L. points be handled? Do we have the 40 of most games, or the 28 of Fallout 4? Or is there a limit at all (within reason, of course, I won't be making a character with 10 in every category)?
4) If there's a sensible enough reason or way for a character to own one, are Pip-Boys permitted as equipment?
Sorry for throwing out all the questions straight out the gate. I'm a big Fallout fan so I'm eager to make a high quality character.
udon
21 y/o from ireland, he/they
have roleplayed for somewhere around a decade now through various mediums, 1x1 and group. advanced writer who still uses "furrowed their brow" every time a character reacts to anything
support gay rights? check out [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5547108]my 1x1 request thread.[/url]
[u][b]discord is "oodonoodles.".[/b][/u]
[i]testimonials:[/i]
"udon you are my hero" - duskkyy
"Soooo like. Udon right? Love that guy!" - Icarus
"I want to talk to Udon about the fall of Constantinople" - Cloaked
"an udon sandwich is EXTREMELY possible" - David
"bearing in mind here udon is a massive homosexual" - megar
"udon do you ever stop to think about the things you type before you type them" - Igloo
"Udon the kinda fella who exhales unnecessarily loudly after having a drink" - Lava
"IMAGINE I just walk into a shop and I see udon there. I’d just freak out. I’d flip it. It’d be bonkers. It’s mental. I’d go insane. Totally crazy." - Icarus, again
"udon isn't human" - RoseWolf
"I frankly don’t even know if Udon exists." - SomeMekBoy
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">udon<br>21 y/o from ireland, he/they<br>have roleplayed for somewhere around a decade now through various mediums, 1x1 and group. advanced writer who still uses "furrowed their brow" every time a character reacts to anything<br><br>support gay rights? check out <a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5547108">my 1x1 request thread.</a><br><br><span class="bb-u"><span class="bb-b">discord is "oodonoodles.".</span></span><br><br><span class="bb-i">testimonials:</span><br>"udon you are my hero" - duskkyy <br>"Soooo like. Udon right? Love that guy!" - Icarus<br>"I want to talk to Udon about the fall of Constantinople" - Cloaked<br>"an udon sandwich is EXTREMELY possible" - David<br>"bearing in mind here udon is a massive homosexual" - megar<br>"udon do you ever stop to think about the things you type before you type them" - Igloo<br>"Udon the kinda fella who exhales unnecessarily loudly after having a drink" - Lava <br>"IMAGINE I just walk into a shop and I see udon there. I’d just freak out. I’d flip it. It’d be bonkers. It’s mental. I’d go insane. Totally crazy." - Icarus, again<br>"udon isn't human" - RoseWolf<br>"I frankly don’t even know if Udon exists." - SomeMekBoy<br></div>