[0700
]*Eleanor stands and nods at Dwayne Hicks. "Mr. Hicks, are you looking forward to this?" He pushes his glasses up and chuckles nervously. "Uh-huh yes indeed ma'am. I'm pleased to be second to a scholar such as yourself." The latter comment sounds a bit forced.
*Pearl leaves the chopper.
*Jack looks at his co-pilot while he unbuckles himself. "Well, that weather wasn't as bad as they laid it out to be! Piece of cake." He then looks back at the passengers, "Everybody have a nice trip? Nobody got air sick, I hope?" Someone groans in response.
*Jane flipped some switches on the overhead including the one that lowers the ramp. "That was Antartic Ass-end of Nowhere Flights, I hoped you enjoyed your flight today. The blades have spun down, so there is little risk of decapitation. Thank you and goodbye." She announced over the headsets and laughed, undoing her restraints.
*MacReady leaves the chopper as soon as the ramp is lowered.
*Washburne grabs a crate and hefts it, grunting. "Ah shit, these are heavy. Those sailors make it look easy!" Washburne leaves the chopper.
*Pierce leaves the chopper.
*Hicks stands up, avoiding eye contact with anyone.
*Pace realizes something and coughs. Pace leaves the chopper.
*Mully snorts and jerks awake, mumbling. "Gblfgmrare we there- Oh we're here."
Everyone eventually makes their way indoors with their luggage. You're all mingling in the hallway outside the supply room. Captain Rowland is nearby, having just walked around the corner.
You're already in your uniform, arranging a master key set at your desk.
Master key ring acquired.You check to make sure your revolver is loaded, flicking it closed and tucking it into your hip holster. You turn off the desk lamp and head over to your office. You open your filing drawer and flip through the dossiers you obtained through the Army Intelligence Security Command at Fort Belvoir before the team shipped.
Personal info accessed, feel free to read the CHARACTERS spoilers in the last update.You head over to the sleeping quarters to see who's up and pass by Chief Cook Bawler, cheerfully humming "British Grenadiers". You remind him that he's got to prepare breakfast and he says that's what he's off to do just now.
In Room 7 Assistant Cook Marcus is sitting on his bed listening to music. You get his attention, making sure your displeasure is known, and tell him to go help Chief with breakfast.
You check the other rooms, all empty. Everyone else must've got up and started their day while you were reviewing dossiers earlier. You close the door of the last room you checked and step back into the Quarters hallway. The visitors ought to be making their way inside any moment now, you should get to organize a meeting eventually so everyone can get acquainted.
You hear a bit of commotion and walk around the corner of the hall to investigate. You see a small crowd of visitors milling around outside the supply room, all with their personal bags and one man holding a crate. You recognize Jack and Jane, your pilots, somewhere at the back.
You get up and get dressed then head off to the Mainframe.
You have no idea how to work the computers. These are mostly for the scientists that will be arriving this afternoon, all of the recording equipment hasn't been totally assembled yet and the monitors are dark. You poke around behind them at the bundles of wires for a very long time, but eventually you decide to give up.
You wake up and reach for your clothes where you left them folded last night. You zip up your coverall, listening to the familiar sound of Malcom doing his daily morning exercises. You hear something pop and he groans; his right shoulder, he said he hurt it working last night, and you remember being woken up when he came in late. You sit on the bed quietly, listening to him get up and struggle with a plastic bag.
He heads for the door and says in a low, respectful tone. "'Ey, boss, I think the new fellas are here. I'll make sure things are down pat in the shop, 'fore they get here proper, then I'll hurry to get ready for the day. If I'm quick enough, thinkin' I can finish being prim'n'proper before they see me a mess." He shuts the door behind him.
You slip your boots on and take your time lacing them up properly, then get up and walk into the hall. You listen for a second. You're pretty sure you're alone. You turn left from your door and walk slowly, keeping one hand on the wall to guide you.
You walk down to the map room. On your way you don't hear anything wrong with the ducting in the halls, you pat the wires leading to the fire alarms familiarly, making sure they aren't stripped and that the connections are good. Being blind, going about your sweep is very time-consuming and there are some things you can't tell are working without touching them, that being a major inconvenience. Perhaps you should get Malcom to help you, or ask him to do it on his own.
You get up and do your exercises. Your right shoulder pops while you're doing pushups and you groan, sitting back on the bed and rolling your arm. You notice the chief is already up and his clothes are on. You get dressed yourself, tucking the ripped clothing into a plastic bag you'd normally use for your waste bin.
You get up for the door. "'Ey, boss, I think the new fellas are here. I'll make sure things are down pat in the shop, 'fore they get here proper, then I'll hurry to get ready for the day. If I'm quick enough, thinkin' I can finish being prim'n'proper before they see me a mess." You leave without waiting to see his reaction.
You arrive at the machine room, having not passed anybody on the way over here. You walk over to the basement door and jiggle the handle. Oh right, it's locked.. The captain confiscated all the keys recently, you remember overhearing her saying she planned on redistributing them today when the new team arrived. You look around. Well you are in a machine room, you could always force the door if you're hell bent on hiding your dirty laundry in the basement.
You take a look at the clothes in the bag. A mess of tatters, it's impossible to tell what they could've been before. They're dark with bloodstains. If you dug around in there you'd probably find a few bits of material that could identify them as belonging them to you.
You wake up and start pulling your clothes on. Sarge is up and you say hullo. He's already dressed and heads on out the door, probably to go tend to his dogs. You heard the helicopter come in to land earlier, everyone's probably still offloading and getting situated, you remember reading the report detailing their cargo and it sounded like a lot of gear. You finish lacing your shoes and trot on over to the radio room.
You don't see anybody on your way over, stopping by the map room to pour yourself a cup of joe, the pot from yesterday still sitting there half full. You enter the radio room and walk over to your listener's station, pulling your chair out and taking a seat. You take a sip of cold coffee. You gag when you taste just how stale it is and to avoid spitting it all over your equipment you force the disgusting liquid down your throat. You groan, setting the coffee aside and pulling the headphones over your head.
You get up, having slept in your clothes from last night. Stevens says hi as he rolls out of bed, you leave while he's still getting dressed.
You don't see anyone else as you wander on over to the dining area, and the place is deserted when you get there. You peer through the windowed door to the kitchen and see it empty. You leave, and run into the Chief Cook on the way out. He explains that he was just about to go make breakfast and heads into the kitchen. You sigh and resolve to come back later to get yourself something hearty.
You arrive at the kennel where your beloved team of 12 Alaskan Malamutes are situated. Most are still sleepy, lazing on their sides amongst the warm straw. A few of the dogs are already sitting up and they immediately hop up and trot over once they recognize you, their fluffy tails flopping back and forth. They're very excited to see you! Do you have one or a few favorite dogs? If so, what are their names? You open the door to the kennel, carrying the bag of dry dog food and a handful of bowls. You start laying it out for them and by now all the dogs are gathered around you.
You take your time getting dressed for the day. Marcus is busy listening to music and combing his afro, he doesn't look up from his mirror even when you go to leave.
You pass by Captain Rowland in the hall outside the quarters on your way to the kitchen and she reminds you to fix up breakfast, suggesting that the rest of the crew will be hungry. You nod and utter a cheerful affirmative. You run into mister Stanford on the way to the kitchen, who seems to have just come from there. He says hello and you do the same, telling him that you were just about to make breakfast. He understands but seems disappointed, and you watch him head off towards the kennel.
You arrive in the kitchen and wash up, tying your apron on even whilst you briskly retrieve utensils from the cupboards. You get everything prepped for a nice American breakfast. There's some cardboard boxes full of frozen strips of turkey instead of bacon (no pork?! unbelievable!) and plenty of cartons of powdered eggs, biscuit mix (you could fix some gravy to go with those as well), bags of potatoes, some tins of dehydrated milk, corn flakes.. You could always go all the way and spring for some good old-fashioned flapjacks. You've even got a half-gallon ration of authentic homemade maple syrup leftover from an amount you got in a care package, sitting pretty in a plastic jug the freezer. You could thaw that out no problem but you think the mix itself is locked away in the supply room. The captain probably has the keys. You wonder shortly if it's worth the hassle.
*Get Up (I Feel Like Being a Sex Machine) Part I - James Brown*
You lie in bed with your headphones on, tapping your walkman to the rhythm. You still have your skates on from last night, didn't feel like taking them off. You grab your mirror from under the bed and take your hair pick out of your billfold so you can touch up your flow a bit. Groovy.
The boss gets up out of bed and gets dressed, then heads off without saying a word. He seems pretty cheerful.
Captain Rowland stops by after he leaves, looking displeased. She tells you to go help Chief with breakfast and leaves. You're alone in the room now.
1: Catherine Smith
2: Pearl Lancaster
3: Jane Doe
4: UNOCCUPIED
5: Jack Woods
6: Alex Stevens, Sarge Stanford
7: Jack Bawler, Marcus Wessneck
8: Freddy Van Stan, Malcom Torres
Command: Jennifer Rowland
Cabin: UNOCCUPIED
C H A R A C T E R SYou may only peek at your own sheet. NPC sheets are off-limits to players.Appearance: She is in her late thirties, or at least looks like it, with very dark skin and black, kinky hair that's kept meticulously cropped. She has a pear-shaped build and a friendly face. While her facial features are rather attractive and rather pronouncedly African, if a little matronly, one can't help but notice her conspicuously crooked, once broken and now improperly healed nose. She tends to dress in primary colors, and varies her outfit often, but does so in a very easily noticeable pattern due to having brought rather few sets of clothing of her own. Tends to look a little frazzled, and uses a set of reading glasses when working at her desk.
Bio: Jennifer was born in the States in a Congolese immigrant family, a rather dirt poor family at that, and her most treasured dream ever since early childhood was, oddly enough, joining the CIA of all things. This was, sadly, ultimately an unrealized dream, though she did manage to join some other, slightly less romanticized, though apparently slightly more interesting agencies, some of which didn't even have specific acronyms, to further the disappointment, and she's had reasonable experience as a handler in foreign intelligence work, too. She was given this assignment rather unceremoniously, ostensibly because she's apparently highly reliable and has had a wealth of experience (though she'd never really noticed, to be honest, given how most of the people she remembers working with once are apparently either dead or missing now, although she does realize that her 12 or possibly 13 years of almost uninterrupted fieldwork in seemingly problematic areas might be construed as a sign of competence), but nevertheless feels that it may be a very important step up in her career, what with it possibly preventing the apocalypse and all. Shame she had to drop her old name to do it, though. She liked her old name.
Inventory
- Indoor Clothes
- Box of Spare Keys (use this to distribute keys)
- Master Key Copy Set (a metal ring, a key to every lock on the base is attached to it)
- .357 Colt Trooper Mark III [6/6] ('On-Duty Sidearm')
Appearance: Calling 30 year old Eleanor a beauty doesn't do her justice, her hair is a platinum blonde, her skin is flawless, her eyes are hazel, she's 5'9" and has the body of a daughter of Venus and she flaunts it.
Bio: American born daughter of a former Nazi Scientist, she followed her in her father's footsteps with regards to occupation. She grew up on tales of how his work had been both horrific and miraculous. The things that he claimed to have been working on could have changed the world, the man is old, senile and suffering from PTSD however, so any claims should be taken with a grain of salt. She has often used the fact that men can't keep their eyes off of her to get ahead in her field, from using sex to steal others work, to utterly destroying other people's credibility due to being incompetent misogynist assholes (when they really were only one of the three). She is ruthless when it comes to getting ahead, and will do whatever it takes to see what humanity can really become.
Inventory
- Indoor Clothes
- Weather Gear
- Personal Luggage
Appearance: Catherine is tall woman with raven black hair, kept in a short bowl cut. She has the scars of multiple bullet wounds on her chest. She wears an odd management of clothing, a stained denim boiler suit with a pair of battered back leather jack boots, under a sheepskin coat thats a size to large for her.
Bio: Her past is fuzzy, clouded by the fog of war, but some of the details are clear. Her place of birth is listed as a collective farm in the remote reaches of the USSR. She claims to have started her military service in 41 as part of Anti-aircraft Regiment. There is a long gap in her records till mid 42 by then she listed as a "Voluntary Assistant" in the German army. Transferring in the Russian Liberation Army in late 43, she seems to have been a model soldier. At the end of Prague uprising when Russian troops entered the city, Kristina left the city with a small band. In the dead of night, they managed to cross the demarcation line some 40 miles to the west and so enter American territory.
When that reached the American lines that where lucky still clad in there old German uniforms, a fact that fortuity lead to there arrest as Germans and a POW camp, not the much feared hands of the NKVD. A woman with out a home or a country she soon found her self in the jungles of Indochina with a gun in her hand and the White kepi of French Foreign Legion on her head. When the Lodge-Philbin Act came in to force in 1950 she jumped at the chance for vengeance.
Inventory
- Indoor Clothes
Appearance: A blonde woman of 5'11" with green eyes. She is 'blessed' with D-cups, she tends to 'eyes up, solider' on her name tag due to this. She wears her hair in a ponytail that rests on her right shoulder most of the time. She dresses in a unzipped black 'hell angels' leather jacket, a loose white t-shirt, blue three quarters shorts and sneakers. She owns a fur coat and trousers if she need to head outside.
Bio: She was in the army for a short duration, quickly climbing the ranks for her quick feet and even quicker mind. She retired after a 'growth spurt' left it 'tricky' to use two handed guns.
She joined the Hell Angels, needing action in her life and thinking a biker gang may provide that. And she was happy with that life.
Meanwhile, the United States had a problem. Every time they choose a Tactical Adviser for their secret project, the man or woman would get into a 'tragic accident'. Believing that they had a mole, but unable to find them, a higher up went with a choice who was 'off the books' and unlikely, hoping to get them to the base before the mole got wind of it.
Inventory
- Indoor Clothes
- Weather Gear
- Personal Luggage
Appearance: Freddy is a strong-framed old man of slightly under six feet, of German descent. He wears an engineer's apron filled with all manner of tools and half-finished mechanical components, in navy blue, over a short-sleeved gray suit. He is in the late stages of balding, with spare yellowed teeth. Over his eyes he wears a blindfold stylized as a miniature American flag. His arms, head, and practically all exposed skin is studded with burns in various stages of age.
Bio: Friedrich Von Stannen was born to a poor family in Berlin, during the Great War. Remarkably, the family was well-enough off after its close, his father returning from a logistical position and his home escaping destruction. In the following economic devastation, Friedrich's father, Hans, was killed in a mugging while searching for work. Friedrich displayed aptitude as an electrician and mechanic and managed to learn what he could from his father and the nearby industrial workers. With the rise of the Nazi party, he left his mother, Ava, and enlisted as part of the German engineering divisions, where he became a leading technical specialist. A high-voltage electrical accident in 1942 permanently blinded Friedrich, but the Party was willing to employ all the R and D it could find, and Von Stannen still managed somehow to continue working. He took to wearing a blindfold to cover his scarred eyes; in order to promote patriotism this was the Nazi flag. After the fall of the Reich, Friedrich, still nursing a German hatred of the Soviets, moved to America to work there; he changed his name and took classes for English-speaking. By chance, due to a logistical oversight Freddy's application was selected for the SHELL project by mistake, and in the tumult of the Cold War no one noticed they hired a blind man as their mechanic.
Inventory
- Indoor Clothes
- Blindfold
Appearance: A man looking to be a bit past his prime, Malcom looks to be the iconic "middle aged man." Strong features and a set jaw, five 'o clock shadow, with black hair that's frosting at the sides and slicked back in a vain attempt to look younger. Despite his age though, its obvious Malcom lives an active lifestyle, as he's far from out of shape. His typical attire is a sturdy set of clothes clothes meant for use inside a workshop, toolbelt included, largely utilitarian in both look and function. The main exception is an old leather jacket he always keeps with him, old enough that the leather has cracked at the elbows and shoulders and shows many an old oil stain and burn.
Bio: Born in the middle of the states, Malcom was what one would one would call a small town legend. During his younger years of schooling, he advanced through the ranks with high marks and signed up with the army, settling in to be an engineer. Taking advantage of his prior experience, newly found connections, and military backing to foot the bill, he managed to snag admittance to a prestigious college for engineers, where he continued his trend for scholarly high marks. In the military, while stationed in some dangerous places, he never saw any actual combat. He was always the one back at base fixing up whatever the others would break, and worked on anything they'd let him touch and would teach him. He was soon approached by those asking him to take part in an experimental research that could turn the tide, or so he was told. Malcom was made to understand that he would be an assistant to the main mechanic, who he's been told was the greatest the country had to offer, and that he would be properly compensated for the strange, yet important mission. Who could say no?
Inventory
- Indoor Clothes
- Shredded Clothes (Malcom's)
Appearance: A rather young-looking man, he is neither overly small nor large. He has brown hair and hazel-green eyes, and keeps his hair very short. He wears cargo pants and a turtle neck sweater, with a short, green jacket over it. It's actually an Air Force jacket he got at a surplus store, with the insignia removed.
Bio: Obtaining his pilot's license when he was 16, Jack has been a helicopter pilot for 7 years now, flying for everything from hospitals to fire departments. He's only been in the military for 6 months, but his skill have already surpassed expectation. He technically still doesn't have a driver's license.
Inventory
- Indoor Clothes
- Weather Gear
- Helicopter Key
Appearance: Jane is short. Really short. 4'12. She has black hair, trimmed short to comfortably fit in a flight helmet and dark brown eyes. Her voice is high and almost musical. She wears baggy combats, seemingly at all times, with thick boots she hopes makes her look taller. It doesn't. Normally, a standard issue pistol is holstered under her arm.
Bio: Jane was born in Britain, the child of an american soldier and a local women on a USAF base. When she was two, she was taken with her parents back to the States when her father was redeployed back to his homeland.
She was fascinated with helicopters as a child, and gained her pilot license as young as she could. She joined the US Navy, and served for all of six months before she was shifted to this project on her nineteenth birthday.
Inventory
- Indoor Clothes
- Weather Gear
- 45. Colt 1911 [9+1]
Appearance: Alex is a tall, dirty blond man, with a small amount of stubble on his face, and green eyes. He usually wears rather casual clothes, jeans and a t-shirt, when possible.
Bio: Alex was born in the mountains of California, and began tinkering with radios at a young age. Soon, he'd spend hours on end eavesdropping on the radio, sometimes even trying to find military channels to listen to. Eventually, the government noticed him, and approached him, offering him a job. He worked his way from there to Yankee.
Inventory
- Indoor Clothes
Appearance: At 84 years of age, this man is simply really really old. Yet despite his age, Sarge is very much fit (somehow), having a spryness and level of activity reserved for only the most driven of the old. His white hair has thinned significantly, and its remnants wrap around the sides and back of his head, cut short. His eyes are brown, and his pale skin has wrinkle upon wrinkle upon wrinkle. He wears thick, winter clothing at pretty much any time (two-layer jacket, hat, boots, gloves, the lot), usually in colors of white and blue-- never red. He speaks in a Russian accent.
Bio: Sarge was originally a Russian, believe it or not. Yet, he was never a Communist, nor did he even ever live in Communist Russia. No, Sarge grew up under the Imperial government, having been born in 1905... the Revolution was his entire life as he grew up, having been born in a very very White Russian, very very anti-Bolshevik family. His father was killed near the very end, and his mother took him and fled to the United States where he would become a citizen. Though he nursed an incredible hatred of the Soviets through every year of his life, his ability to get a job varied widely. Up to and during World War II, he found himself in the military, in a support role. In this role, he found himself working with animals... and discovered his true talent, 35 years into his life. Sarge had a way with animals, utterly unrivaled by any of the other animal workers he met. ...and then, during the Cold War, he was fired anyway for being Russian. But Yankee needed a dog handler, and looking over former veterans, they found one with skill...
Inventory
- Indoor Clothes
- Dog Whistle
- Kennel Key
Appearance: Jack Bawler is 23 years old, and has brown hair, with jade eyes. He tends to wear long blue jeans, and a black jacket with stripes.
Bio: Jack Bawler is an immigrant from Australia, raised on tales of proud America, leader of the free west! The day he turned 18, Jack left Australia to head for the beautiful land of America. Jack took several courses in the Australian University of Tafe, obtaining Certificate 3 in Childrens Services, and Certificate 3 in Hospitality. When Jack left for America, he took a course in hospitality, and once he obtained his degree, signed up to the military, changing his name in the process. As a remnant of his Australian past, Jack tries to be friendly and polite to everyone else in the ice station.
Inventory
- Indoor Clothes
Appearance: A dark skinned young man in his early twenties, having a black afro and donning a tee over a dress shirt. Wears comfortable jeans and usually uses his roller skates to get around the station and assist his boss.
Bio: Wessneck's life is a short, and pretty standard affair. After failing high school and receiving basic military training before getting thrown out because he was flat footed, Marcus enlisted for the only available course in hopes of receiving a training and getting a job. That course later turned out to be a cooking training and Wessneck turned out to be a good assistant and a reliable chef. He then got interested in some politics and science, and shortly later was getting taught how to do basic maintenance in a research facility. He volunteered for the job and decided to work with the government to help with establishing peace and freedom around the world.
Inventory
- Indoor Clothes
- Roller Skates
- Walkman w/Headphones (you've got a few cassettes for this)
---
Appearance: 31 years old. A lanky, pale fellow with a slightly receding hairline. Wears prescribed glasses, can't see a thing without them.
Bio: Assigned as an aide to Dr. Reinhardt. Studies synthetic biology with applications in biotechnology. Generally withdrawn and likes to be alone, but those who know him well understand that he can be extremely personable when he feels like it. Has a dutiful attitude towards the mission and wants to do his best to see it through, but feels disappointed that he won't play a more important role in the project, thinking that most of the work will be left to the computer nerds.
Inventory
- Indoor Clothes
- Weather Gear
- Prescription Glasses
- Personal Luggage
Appearance: 29 years old. Tall and lean, has an average build that is deceptively powerful. Has long, curly brown hair and a thick beard. Wears a brown leather jacket and blue jeans, often wears reflective sunshades on his head for outings.
Bio: A professional arctic trekker and mountain climber. Led the original team that built the base and has been rehired for this expedition as a safety precaution. Keeps a daily journal, it's very personal to him and he tries to avoid having it out when others are around.
Inventory
- Indoor Clothes
- Hunting Dagger
- Journal
- Personal Luggage
Appearance: 39 years old. Heavyset and quite pale, despite his weight has very sharp, angular features. Has curly black hair and and dull greenish-blue eyes. Often seen wearing a featureless grey sweater and equally plain navy blue pants. Has an agreeable, often unexcited demeanor.
Bio: Born in the Oklahoma, graduated from UCLA. A hands-on type of fellow, often quick to speak his mind. Relates to other intellectuals and enjoys discussing theory. Fatally allergic to peanuts.
Inventory
- Indoor Clothes
- Weather Gear
- Personal Luggage
Appearance: A rather plain-looking woman appearing roughly in her thirties. She often appears tired, dark circles having taken up permanent residence underneath her eyes and her movements always have a sort of sluggish appearance. Despite this though, her mind always seems keen of the present. Often dressed in comfortable, if pleasant-looking clothing that often takes on a colorful monochromatic scheme.
Bio: Born in the city that never sleeps, much the same could be said of Dana. A constant sufferer of insomnia, she's used the extra time on her hands to try many a hobby and passion. Taking to computer science as a hobby at first, she never really expected it to take her anywhere as she focused on physics. But as time went on, she found it easier to take on jobs writing code and troubleshooting problems than apply her knowledge of physics. While most would simply be happy for a job, for Dana, it was a bit of a let down. A few years have passed and she's become known in the industry, but she never really felt like this was her calling. Her mind still harkened back to the love of the world, and how it works. One could only imagine her joy when she was taken on staff to fine tune and take a second eye to what could only be the world's premier physics engine.
Inventory
- Indoor Clothes
- Weather Gear
- Personal Luggage
Appearance: Little more than 20 years old and very lanky. Has olive skin, straight black hair and brown eyes. Stands at average height but has a lot of presence despite this. Has round, handsome features cursed with a persistent stubble. Irritably insists that he shaves carefully every morning.
Bio: Has been an orphan since he can remember. Grew up in a halfway house but became best friends with Keith through school. His parents were very kind and became close with him over the years, eventually deciding to take him in as their adoptive son when only days after he graduated high school he had become caught up in gang violence which led to the loss of his left and dominant hand. Keith's parents loved them both unconditionally and put them through college together. They both dropped out however after being offered a job by the government for their revolutionary biotechnical experiments proving their radical theories surrounding the idea of transhumanism. Years after the incident Blake continues to struggle living with only one hand and frequently expresses frustration and resentment over it.
Inventory
- Indoor Clothes
- Weather Gear
- Personal Luggage
- Left Hand Prosthesis
Appearance: About 20 years old. Keith always has a smile plastered on his face, even when things don't quite go his way. Its rather fitting in him seeming to have taken "dress for success" to heart a bit too literally however, as he always seems to fit a handkerchief and a tie on any sort of attire, fitting along with his dress shoes. Immaculate clothes, but only due to the fact that he's often seen obsessively cleaning both his clothes, himself, and his personal areas.
Bio: Keith was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, silver and padded with enough circuitry to act as a CPU. Born to a well off family in the business of technological innovation, Washburn's first books were manuals and his first toys motherboards. With high expectations on him to follow the family in the business, the man took to it well, if perhaps too well. It wasn't long before he was head of the family company, and even sooner he shook hands on a deal to sell it for even more. His family was displeased, but his ambition and the profits smoothed over any doubts. Malcolm wasn't interested in the small time, not when so much more could be had! When handed the blank check to make the best machine he could, how could one of this ambition and pride say no?
Inventory
- Indoor Clothes
- Weather Gear
- Small Crate
- Personal Luggage
Author
Topic: Ice Station Yankee IC: Redtext the Game (Read 2155 times)