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here.War. War never changes.
The capacity for humankind to murder has, throughout history, expanded and multiplied to a scale unprecedented and extraordinary. Starting with clubs and bows, then muskets and cannons. Guns. Bombs. When nuclear fire swept across the world in 2077, men and women wept underground in large vaults, telling themselves this would be the end of violence.
But war never changes.
When the vaults reopened and the people began to start life anew, they learned that violence would always have a place by man’s side. Tribes would fight over territory, and old organizations would tear the land apart in the name of old gods and philosophies. Centuries old conflicts live on as humanity’s wounds fester. The world hasn’t ended, and war lives on.
And here, in Arsenal City, a city built up on the foundation of war, it is no different. Technology cultists and raiders unearth destructive weapons in the ruins of the 313, and turn them on each other to devastating effect.
Some still cling to hope for a better tomorrow. Others drag humanity down with each passing breath. What side will you take?
This is a Fallout roleplay, if that wasn't already apparent. Post apocalyptic with dark humour, mutants and ghouls, lasers and mini nukes, the whole deal. The game will start in a vault, then expand to the area around Detroit, Michigan, the town known as Arsenal City.
GameplayName: That thing that people call you by.
Appearance: Race, gender, stuff like that.
Job/Specialty: Your vault profession. Engineer, security, hairdresser, etc. Or, if you're a wastelander, your specialty/class, like bandit flamer, tech cult plasma thrower, caravan guard.
Bio: Your life, summarized or not.
SPECIAL:
Strength:
Perception:
Endurance:
Charisma:
Intelligence:
Agility:
Luck:
Skills:
Barter:
Big Guns:
Energy Weapons:
Explosives:
Small Guns:
Lockpick:
Medicine:
Melee Weapons:
Repair:
Science:
Sneak:
Speech:
Survival:
Unarmed:
Traits: Up to two traits, as seen below.
You have 40 points to spend on your stats, with 1 being the minimum and 10 being the maximum. These stats modify your rolls as follows:
1:-3
2:-2
3-4:-1
5:0
6-7:+1
8-9:+2
10:+3
As for skills, you can add one + to a skill for every - you add to another. You may only have three skills at +++ and three at --- at spawn. You must obey the rules for skill advancement.
Whenever you gain another + to add to your skills, you must meet the prerequisites for advancement. Your associated SPECIAL stat must be high enough before you increase your skill. At stat 6, you may raise your skill to +, at 7 to ++ and so on until you are a 10, at which you may increase the associated skill to +++++. Every few levels, you'll receive a stat point to spend on your SPECIAL stats. Below are the skill associations.
Strength: Melee Weapons, Unarmed
Perception: Energy Weapons, Explosives, Lockpick
Endurance: Big Guns, Survival
Charisma: Barter, Speech
Intelligence: Medicine, Repair, Science
Agility: Small Guns, Sneak
Born to Raid: You are slightly insane. Cannibals, raiders, and bandits are more likely to listen to you/ fear you, while more civilised folk find you disturbingly barbaric.
Bruiser: You're pretty good with your fists or a bat, but you always go for the easy shots.
Finesse: Crit ranges on your weapons are increased, but you do less damage overall.
Gifted: All of your stats are increased by one, but you are less likely to learn new things.
Good Natured: You prefer to do things non-violently. Any aggressive action (shooting someone, stabbing someone, intimidating someone) is penalized, while non-aggressive actions (doctoring, lock-picking, bartering) are buffed.
Kamikaze: You lack a sense of preservation. Overall, you do more damage, but you take more as well.
Meticulous Maimer: You take your time when aiming. You hit your targets more, but you don't fire as quickly.
Mr. Suave/Ms. Devilish: (Most) people of the opposite gender are predisposed to like you, while (most of) those of the same gender are annoyed by your animal magnetism.
One Hand Tied: You are more skilled with one handed weapons (knife, pistol, magnum) but not as good with two handed weapons (maul, rifle, shotgun)
Pity-Me Pete: You are pitiful. People are less likely to respect you, but they'll also be less likely to target you when you're injured.
Skilled: You may have a fourth skill at +++, but one of your stats are randomly reduced by one permanently.
Snap Shot: You might be able to shoot more quickly than others, but when you do, you don't hit much.
StimHead: Chems have a more profound effect on you, but you are more likely to be addicted, even to non-addictive drugs.
The 313 Eye: You notice things. Special things. Careful where that takes you...
Vault 58A is the sister vault of 58B. The original excuse to have such a thing as a conjoined vault was budget constraints, though that was not the true reason. In reality, Vault-Tec designed these two vaults to work autonomously of one another except for one thing: the overseer for A was put in B and vice-versa. The overseers had to manage their vaults without any way to contact their people. They could only speak with their opposed overseer through a specific terminal. At first, the overseer of B, Alex Dram, just decided he'd run A and let overseer A, Nicolas Bitter, run B. However, Bitter was bent on following protocol. It was thought that he was mad, for he threatened to shut down the power of both vaults if Dram didn't comply. So, a tradition was set. One overseer would rule the neighboring vault through unemotional reports, lists, and short communications with their fellow overseer. And so, the two overseers and their descendants ruled over the vaults for 148 years. Now, in the year 2225, strange orders are coming from the sister vault and her overseer. What could it mean?
Name: Clair Keter
Appearance: Female red head with blue eyes. Wears a brown headband around her head to keep her hair out of her eyes.
Job: Psychologist.
Bio: Was born in a hole, will probably die in one, not necessity the same one. A tomboy from day one, but got along with most people. Avoid fighting for her own sake, but fly in swinging for another.
SPECIAL:
Strength:5
Perception:3
Endurance:6
Charisma:10
Intelligence:8
Agility:5
Luck:3
Skills:
Barter:+++
Big Guns:--
Energy Weapons:--
Explosives:--
Small Guns:---
Lockpick:--
Medicine:++
Melee Weapons:++
Repair:++
Science:++
Sneak:---
Speech:+++
Survival:---
Unarmed:+++
Traits:
Good Natured
Bruiser
Name: Francis Barton
Appearance: Pale-faced young man with medium-length, light brown hair. He's fairly tall at 6'1", with a lanky frame.
Job: (Illicit) Bartender and on occasion, thief
Bio: Coming from a family that had a history of pre-war military work, he was rather forced towards becoming one of the vaults security forces. He didn't particularly like this idea, not caring much for the whole idea of fighting for others' sake. His career of choice soon became bartender, after stumbling upon a few pre-war books documenting bootleggers in the long-passed 1950's. As time went on, he collected what he'd need to set up a still, sneaking into the labs and the kitchen for both ingredients and materials. Eventually, he had a surplus of home-made liquor, but no way to safely distribute it. He managed to convince one of the engineers to set up a nice cozy little hideaway, which he soon refitted into a bar. He became rather well-known for his makeshift little bar, at least, well known among the vault's less reputable population, which is just the way he liked it. His skill with a gun kept the bar well defended, and his natural charisma served to keep any law enforcers off of him.
SPECIAL:
Strength: 4
Perception: 8
Endurance: 4
Charisma: 7
Intelligence: 6
Agility: 7
Luck: 4
Skills:
Barter:++
Big Guns:---
Energy Weapons:---
Explosives:--
Small Guns:+++
Lockpick: ++
Medicine:--
Melee Weapons:--
Repair:+
Science:+
Sneak:+++
Speech:++
Survival:---
Unarmed:+
Traits: The 313 Eye, Mr. Suave
Name: Sam.
Gender: Male.
Race: Sam doesn't like to run. ( Sorry couldn't resist ) American.
Appearance : Sam is just under 6 foot tall with a lean but muscled physique and cropped brown hair.
Job : Security Chief/Diplomat.
Bio : Sam replaced the chief when he became to old to carry out his duties any more, he was raised by the former chief who also happened to be his mother to replace her one day.
He also has a natural gift with women having many of the single women from the age of 15 up trying to become his girl and most of the married women as well but to date he has had a series of flings but nothing more.
Special.
Strength : 6
Perception : 5
Endurance : 6
Charisma : 6
Intelligence : 5
Agility : 9
Luck : 3
Skills.
Barter: ++
Big Guns: ++
Energy Weapons: --
Explosives: --
Small Guns: +++
Lockpick: ---
Medicine: ---
Melee Weapons: +++
Repair: --
Science: ---
Sneak: ++
Speech: +++
Survival: ++
Unarmed: --
Traits : Born to Raid, Mr.Suave.
Name: Simegathree
Appearance: Male, young, neatly trimmed.
Job: Testing scientist (makes tests on !!test subjects!!)
Bio: He was born a prodigy, but often bullied. Grew up lonely, detached. With his grades he scored a job on a good University. They say that his old notebooks where neat and orderly, but after the notes ended (e.g. The place most people use to draw) there are mad scribbles of nonsense with a recurring "madness has kept me sane" Now, he seems to be on the verge of worsening.
SPECIAL:
Strength: 3
Perception: 6
Endurance: 5
Charisma: 3
Intelligence: 10
Agility: 10
Luck: 3
Skills:
Barter: ---
Big Guns: ---
Energy Weapons: --
Explosives: +++ (don't ask)
Small Guns: ---
Lockpick: +
Medicine: ++
Melee Weapons: +
Repair: +
Science: +++
Sneak: +++
Speech: --
Survival:+
Unarmed: --
Traits:
Born to raid
Pity-Me Pete
Name: Rachelle
Appearance: Caucasian-Asian hybrid, Medium length black hair, Female
Job: Tech
Bio: She always knew she was going to be a technician, her father gave her no choice, but she would rather have been tinkering with lasers and plasma casters, unfortunately the vault did not have much need of such devices.
SPECIAL:
Strength: 5
Perception: 7
Endurance: 4
Charisma: 7
Intelligence: 8
Agility: 4
Luck: 5
Skills:
Barter:+
Big Guns:---
Energy Weapons: +++
Explosives:--
Small Guns: ---
Lockpick:
Medicine:
Melee Weapons: ---
Repair: +++
Science:+
Sneak:++
Speech:+
Survival:
Unarmed:
Traits: Finnesse, Meticulous Maimer
Name: Gaze
Appearance: Overall a fairly young man, although his skin is weathered from the harsh wasteland sun, faded, stringy hair hangs in tatters, and his limbs are lean and wiry from a combination of meagre food and a rough life. His light green eyes are sharp beneath his ragged brows, though, and he moves with a subtle grace.
Job/Specialty: Down-on-his-luck mercenary.
Bio: Growing up amidst several siblings in the poorer parts of Ponte city, the life of an adventurous mercenary always held a romantic appeal for Gaze. Apart from the money to be made, just getting to see far-off places was enough inspiration for the young man to ditch the family's glazier business to sign up with a Merc company based out of Arsenal, The Red String.
He and a few equally-reckless friends gathered up whatever beat-up firearms they could get their hands on, said a few farewells and hitched a ride with a rather daring trade caravan into Arsenal, getting their first bit of 'work experience' by signing on as guards- despite the fact that half of them had never fired a gun before.
Long story short, they made it to Arsenal without much trouble, met up with the Red String member they'd spoken to back in Ponte, and shortly had themselves a job. A job involving constant tension, danger and the occasional bit of shooting, but hey it's better than nothing with the economy how it is.
Gaze and his friends, along with a few other junior members, worked as a squad. The RS leadership would send them out for jobs that needed doing, but weren't important enough to warrant sending more experienced troops.
Sometimes they'd do scouting missions for larger attacks, too. The next few years passed like that, with Gaze and his friends (those who didn't die, anyway- they lost a couple along the way) actually learning to shoot, gaining a basic grasp of tactics and survival skills and becoming, if not hardened warriors, not overly green either.
He didn't have any particular philosophy on life and death. He'd shot a few people over the course of their adventures, but they were generally far enough away to not end up haunting his dreams or any such nonsense. Overall, life was good. He and his buddies made a decent amount of caps, buying themselves nice digs back in Ponte.
That all changed, though, when the Red String accepted a contract to take out the Clerics.
A vicious ambush hit them as they made their way towards a Clerics base, coming seemingly out of nowhere in the pre-dawn gloom. It was a slaughter; Gaze saw the head of one of his old companions explode right before him as a bunch of screaming lunatics hit their scout party.
Sprayed with blood, he managed to get away, barely. The focus of the Clerics' attack hit the main group of mercs, with just a few taking shots at Gaze's squad.
Still, he had to run for it- something he's not terribly proud of. He doubts whatever remains of the Red String Company would be happy with him, either- not to mention the Clerics. He wound up in Ghost Town, hiding himself amongst the locals and hiding his shame beneath a haze of chems.
SPECIAL:
Strength: 4
Perception: 8
Endurance: 2
Charisma: 6
Intelligence: 6
Agility: 10
Luck: 4
Skills:
Barter:
Big Guns: ---
Energy Weapons: ---
Explosives: +
Small Guns: +++
Lockpick:
Medicine: +
Melee Weapons:
Repair:
Science: ---
Sneak: +++
Speech: +
Survival:
Unarmed:
Traits: Meticulous Maimer, Stimhead
Name: Michael Leary
Appearance: Michael is a tall, pale Caucasian who is scrawny. He has dyed blue hair that is rather wavy, but short enough. He has blue eyes and soft, boyish features. He has a rather pleasant smile that tends to be rather infectious, and a British accent that he seems to have inherited from his father. He seems to be about twenty.
Job: Medical Doctor.
Bio: The first notable things about Michael was his family: one of the few first generation immigrants in the Vault, being British. This lead to his rather distinctive accent. Michael was always a fastidious child, and even at an early age he was ranked among the most intelligent in the Vault. He studied medicine and science, becoming well-learned as well as intelligent. However, this did not go to his head and he was well-known as being pleasant and gregarious. This natural charisma was of create help in his formative years. One of his hobbies was tinkering with his pipboy, first augmenting it to be a movie holodeck player rather then just an audiodeck player, then adjusting it to be able to analyze chemicals. He negotiated with other teenagers in augmenting their own pipboys in exchange for gods and services which gave him minor skill in trading. However, not all his hobbies were as innocent: he was skilled at lockpicking due to the fact that the entrance to his lab often jammed requiring him to jimmy it open with a bobby pin, and he was good at sneaking around thanks to bullies often prowling around for him due to his physical weakness.
SPECIAL:
Strength: 3
Perception: 6
Endurance: 4
Charisma: 8
Intelligence: 9
Agility: 6
Luck: 4
Skills:
Barter: +
Big Guns: ---
Energy Weapons: --
Explosives: --
Small Guns: -
Lockpick: ++
Medicine: +++
Melee Weapons: ---
Repair: +
Science: +++
Sneak: ++
Speech: +++
Survival: -
Unarmed: ---
Traits:
Mr Suave
Good Natured
Clair: 17
Francis: 35
Gaze: 39
Rachelle: 13
Sam: 21
Simegathree: 23
Michael: 28
Updated 9/28
Best Companion: Dogmeat from Fallout!
Best Vault: Vault 11!
Best Creature: Mister Handy!
Best Weapon Type: Small Guns!
Poll
3 (37.5%)
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Topic: [OOC] Fallout: Arsenal City (Ghouls and Ghosts)[6/6] (Read 13128 times)