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[Ardent Debater]

Introduction

All of You remember the day that it all came falling down. Our Civilization, our Morals, even what it meant to be Human, all of it was destroyed in what seems like an instant. The Dead arose, and with them, they brought Death. They could feel nothing, no pain, no fear, and no mercy. The Dead will stop at nothing to satisfy their endless hunger and they will eat anything with a pulse, but Humans, Humans, are by far, their favorite meal.

If one of the Dead manages to so much as nibble, so much as scratch, a living breathing Human, that Human is Dead. Their Death, their Plague, spreads just under the Skin, with no sign of it's presence. The first symptoms come only Hours after contact, first, they start sweating. Then, they start the coughing, the sneezing, vomiting, the works, and spread their Plague to others. After a day or two, the Fever starts, and it doesn't stop, and nothing, no medicine, no amount of hope, absolutely nothing, can stop it, it gets warmer and warmer until finally, the victim lies Dead.

But by far, the most terrifying part, is the next one. After a few Hours, or a few Days, it all depends, the Body, the Carcass, the Hollow Shell of a Person Long gone, gets up. In a blatant act of defiance to everything Humanity thought it knew, It gets up, and then opens It's Eyes, and Moans. That bone-chilling, soul crushing, unnatural Moan, no one knows why the Dead Moan, maybe It's Hunger, maybe It's Sadness, or Pain, or Rage, or maybe something far worse, but regardless of the emotion behind it, the Moaning never stops. And neither do the Dead.

They can be shot in the Heart, Lit on Fire, Every bone in their Body can be shattered, but they will never stop their Moaning, and they will never stop coming. As long as they have a Leg, they will walk to You, as long as they have an Arm, they will reach for You, and as long as they have a Mouth, they will BITE You. The only way to ensure that the Dead stay that way, is to destroy their Brain, to them, anything else is an inconvenience, they don't bleed, they don't get tired, and their Brain is the one and only thing keeping them going. If that's Destroyed, the Dead, Die.

Not only the Bitten get up, everyone has their Curse, once they clock out, kick the bucket, or pass on, they Get up, and they are Dead. No one knows how the Dead are no longer Dead, No one knows why the Dead Bite, and No one seems to know what Death means Now. If the Brain is destroyed before the Dead get up, they stay Dead, and until the Dead get up, they don't spread anything, No one knows How.

When the Dead started to get up the Government tried to keep it all quiet. Back in the early days, they thought is was just a strain of Rabies, or a Nasty Cold of some kind, and they tried to Quarantine it. But You can't quarantine a Fact of Life. All over the World, the Dead started to get up, Funerals, Cemeteries, anywhere there was a Corpse, there were the Dead. Once the News got out, Panic struck, and the Government couldn't do a thing to stop it. When the Dead reached the Cities, the people were unprepared, and Rioting only spread the Death.

The Bitten spread the Plague like wildfire in Big Cities, and no one knew it came from the Bites and Scratches, by the time Everyone realized it, it was to late. Humanity is now an unwanted trespasser on it's own property, the World belongs to the Dead now. A few Hardened, Embittered Survivors have weathered the Storm of Death, and are now no more than Vultures, picking through the Corpse of Humanity for sustenance, ever wary, always watching, For The Dead.

End Of Introduction

Spoiler: What is this?!? (click to show/hide)

This is a semi-serious Zombie Apocalypse Survival RPG. To start I'm only going to have Six Players, and I'll be choosing the Six best applications, others will be wait-listed in Chronological Order until there's an Opening, and don't worry, if this goes as planned, there will be plenty. I also set this up to crash test some Game Mechanics I'm working on.

Spoiler: Setting Information (click to show/hide)

-For Extra !!FUN!! Zombie Culture never became a thing, the Zombies were a total surprise, and People don't call them Zombies, because that's no !!FUN!!
-After the Dead overran the Major Cities, the Government Nuked them in a final bid to Survive as a Nation. It didn't work as well as they'd hoped, and the Dead don't seem to mind Radioactive Fallout. It should lighten up after a few decades, so don't worry.
-It's the kind of Radiation that gives You cancer, not the kind that gives You cool Mutations.
-It's been about Two Months Since the Fall Of Civilization.
-The Dead seem to congregate in Hordes and Packs, but every now and then You can find a Solitary Biter.
-Pockets of Civilization do exist, but they are Rare and far in between. Nomadic Tribes and Individual Wanderers are more common.
-Other People are one of the Biggest Threats out there, stay vigilant.
-Money is useful only as kindling and toilet paper nowadays.
-There's No Cure, but there are a lot of Pipe Dreams out there.
-Nobody knows where the Zombies came from, but there's a Lot of Theories out there.
-Lots of Religious Cults popped up after the Collapse.
-Everybody in the Group has known each other for about two weeks.
-Note: Zombies aren't the only Threat in a Dying World such as this.

Spoiler: Rules, Note: I'll be using a 1d20 for all Rolls, barring special occasions. (click to show/hide)

ZR

Each Character has a Zombie Ratio, (ZR), the ZR determines how many Zombies the Character can take on by themselves, with no weapons. Weapons, and Stats provide a Bonus to the ZR depending on their quality. For Example, Mary Sue has a Baseball Bat, a Clubs Skill of 2 and a Strength Stat of 12, instead of the default ZR of 1, Mary Sue has a ZR of 1+2(Baseball Bat)+2(Relevant Stat for Weapon)+2(Relevant Skill for Weapon) giving Her a ZR of 7, instead of 1.

If Mary Sue wanted to Fight exactly 7 Zombies at once, She would receive no Penalties or Bonuses. If Mary Sue wanted to Fight 1 Zombie with a ZR of 7, She would receive a +6 Bonus to Her Combat Rolls, because Her ZR exceeds the number of Zombies by 6. If Mary Sue was feeling suicidal wanted to Fight 50 Zombies at once, She would receive a -43 Penalty to Her Combat Rolls, because the Number of Zombies exceeds Her ZR by 43. However, If Mary Sue used Tactics and forced the Horde through a Bottleneck where only 2 could pass at once, She would only have to fight all 50 in repetitive groups of 2, giving Her a Bonus, but after a while, She would have to roll a Constitution Check each Turn to avoid becoming Tired, and getting a Penalty, and one of the two Zombies might get lucky and land a glancing cut on Mary Sue's Forehead, making Her Infected, essentially Ending Her Life.

If Mary Sue was assisted by Frank, and Frank had a ZR of 12, their combined Efforts would have a ZR of 19 against the Zombie Horde, improving their chances significantly. If Mary and Frank both had AK-47's, giving them a +4 to their ZR, they could roll to Combat Zombies from a distance, with no chance of being harmed by the Zombies, in exchange for Ammunition and a Lot of Noise. Some Skills and Clever Tactics provide Bonuses to ZR, if Properly Applied.

Stats

There are Six Stats: Strength, Agility, Constitution, Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma.

Strength: How Strong a Character is, Provides Bonuses to Hitting Things, Moving Things, and other Actions requiring Brute Force.
Agility: How Agile a Character is, Provides Bonuses to being Sneaky, Dodging, and other Actions requiring Finesse.
Constitution: How Tough a Character is, Provides Bonuses to Pain Resistance, Fighting off Diseases, and other Actions requiring Macho Manliness.
Intelligence: How Smart a Character is, Provides Bonuses to Reading, Crafting, and other Actions requiring Smarts.
Wisdom: How much Common Sense a Character has, Doesn't Provide Bonuses, but can Provide Information the Character might not have otherwise.
Charisma: How Charismatic a Character is, Provides Bonuses to Smooth Talking, Intimidation, and other Actions requiring Suaveness.

Each Stat, (Barring Wisdom, which is incredibly Helpful) provides a Bonus to certain Skills and Actions if Higher than average, or provides a Penalty to certain Skills and Actions if lower than average. The Average for a Stat is 8, a Stat of 8 Provides no Bonuses or Penalties. For every point below 8, a -1 stacking Penalty is applied, once it's lower than 4, it becomes a +2 stacking Penalty, For Bonuses, every point above 8, a +1 stacking Bonus is applied, once it's Higher than 12 it becomes a +2 stacking Bonus. Min-maxing, is not a good idea, as many situations require versatility, but specialization can be helpful in some cases.

Skills

There are many Skills. Each Point in a Skill provides a +1 Bonus towards the Use of certain Tools, and/or towards performing certain Actions. With some Actions or Tools, a lack of Skill will provide a Penalty. For Example, If Chuck wanted to escape several Hundred Zombies by swimming across a River, and Chuck had no Swimming Skill and an Agility stat of 6, He would receive a -4(Lack of Skill)-2(Lack of Agility) -4(Chuck Is Fricken' Terrified) Penalties, giving Chuck a -10 Penalty to His Swimming Roll. Needless to say, Chuck drowns. If Chuck needed to make a Burger, however, his Burger Flipping Skill of 8, would give Chuck a +8 Bonus, resulting in a great Burger, that sadly, he couldn't taste, being Dead at the bottom of a River and all.

If Danny, Chuck's Surgeon Friend, was trying to Amputate Gertrude's Bitten Left Arm, and Danny had a Surgery Skill of 5, an Intelligence Stat of 10, and a Wisdom Stat of 10, He would get a +5(Surgery Skill)+2(Intelligence)+2(Wisdom) resulting in a Bonus of +9. Meaning that Gertrude didn't die until a normal Flesh-rotting Disease set up because of Gertrude's Abysmal Constitution Stat.

Being Bitten Or Scratched

DON'T LET IT HAPPEN, OR YOU'LL DIE HORRIBLY!!! Wearing Armor or certain Skills can give a Zombie a Penalty to It's Biting/Scratching Roll, giving You a Higher Chance to not get Bitten or Scratched. If You are, well... Good Luck with that. Armor Threshold, (AT) is how much a Bonus Your Armor gives You to block Attacks.

Spoiler: Character Sheet, Fill this out and Post! (click to show/hide)

Name:((What People call You, it doesn't have to be serious, and can be a False name or a Nickname.))
Age:((How old are You? For RPing reasons, and if this Forum Game goes on long enough, how long you have until Death comes a knockin'.))
Gender:((Male or Female are the only options here, I'm sorry if that's not your Thing.))
Job:((What did You do for a living before the Apocalypse? Bonus Internet Cookies if it relates to Your Skills.))
Personality:((Whatever You feel about everything, and Your general Outlook, or, in simpler terms, Your Personality. Bonus Internet Cookies if You actually follow this IC.))
Undead Philosophy:((How do You view the Walking Dead? Totally not a reference to anything...))
Backstory:((How was Your Life before the Apocalypse began? When the Undead Hordes consumed Society, what were You doing? How did You survive for Two Months? And How did You meet the Group?))
Motivation:((What keeps You going now that there's nothing left to live for?))
Stats:((All Stats Start at 8 Points, You have 2 Free Stat Points You can Put in without removing Points from another Stat. You can reallocate those Points however You see fit, but keep in mind, Minmaxing is a bad idea.))

Strength: How Strong a Character is, Provides Bonuses to Hitting Things, Moving Things, and other Actions requiring Brute Force.
Agility: How Agile a Character is, Provides Bonuses to being Sneaky, Dodging, and other Actions requiring Finesse.
Constitution: How Tough a Character is, Provides Bonuses to Pain Resistance, Fighting off Diseases, and other Actions requiring Macho Manliness.
Intelligence: How Smart a Character is, Provides Bonuses to Reading, Crafting, and other Actions requiring Smarts.
Wisdom: How much Common Sense a Character has, Doesn't Provide Bonuses, but can Provide Information the Character might not have otherwise.
Charisma: How Charismatic a Character is, Provides Bonuses to Smooth Talking, Intimidation, and other Actions requiring Suaveness.

Traits:((Things that make You unique, like a missing Eye, constant Fidgeting, or a nicotine addiction, for example. Most of these are for RP reasons, but some provide Bonuses and Penalties. For every Positive Trait there must be an equally Negative Trait, and a Character can have only 4 Traits to begin with.))

Skills:((You have 4 Skill Points by Default, for every 2 Points in Intelligence above 8, You get 1 Bonus Skill Point. You do not, however, lose Skill Points over Low Intelligence.))

Equipment:((Your starting Equipment will depend on Your Job, Your Skills, Your Traits, and a Few Secret Background Rolls.))

Your Keepsake:((One small item, large enough to fit in a small pocket, that You are guaranteed to start with, an old wedding ring, your old Cellphone, or a trusty penknife, for example.))

ZR:((I'll determine this at the start))
AT:((I'll determine this at the start))

Well, There You have it. Get to Posting.

[Pencil_Art]

Looks cool. I'll be watching, don't know if I have the time to make any commitments.

[Ardent Debater]

Looks cool. I'll be watching, don't know if I have the time to make any commitments.

That's Fine, I'm happy to know that somebody will be watching. Remember, You can always Wait-list a Character, and have it there in case Your schedule clears up.

[Pencil_Art]

Welp, I'm making a character anyway.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Fred 'Red' Darke
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Job: Fisherman
Personality: At least slightly drunk most of the time and grumpy when sober, Fred really doesn't care about anything other than seeing to his immediate needs, and maybe ensuring he has a place to sleep and a bottle of beer to get hungover on. If he had any friends, he hasn't had to care about them for a long time.
Undead Philosophy: If the dead walk, hell, anything can happen. Even if the first dead he saw were his friends, Fred believes the dead are, simply put, very aggressive animals. You either put them down or they'll do the same to you. If the dead walk, get on with life. At least, that's what Fred'll do.
Backstory: Fred was a mediocre fisherman at best before all this started, working on a small boat with a small net and no friends (but a few annoying acquaintances. Everyday he hauled in some amount of fish, just enough to make enough money to live buy, and everyday he went to the same bar, smoked some pipe weed with a polished wooden pipe he had inherited from his father (who has also lived and worked in the fishing trade) and drinking what little alcohol he could spare money for. Sometimes he wondered what he had given up to live in the fishing trade. Wishes of a good job, for one. A kind and loving relationship. Hell, even a friend would have been appreciated, but a small, cramped ship with not much in the way of hearty crew members and cold, bitter rain lashing out at you wasn't the kind of place to make long lasting relationships.

The day that he realized the dead really were here to stay (he had seen the ravings of so called 'crazy men', talking about the dead rising and all that, and, like most, he had dismissed their claims) was a Sunday. He remembers the day vividly. It began when Roger, the loud, boisterous bo'sun quietly (that was the first weird thing about that day) told the rest of the crew about a small wound some crazy guy had given him the morning before. It looked like a bite.
"What the hell kinda man'd do that?" Fred had asked, and received no answer. Later that day, the crew decided to crash upon their small boat, because they had barely hauled in anything, and nobody wanted to leave without something to show. Fred recalls that he woke with a start to the noise of something scrabbling around the bunks. Something incessantly moaning.

The next day, Fred drove the boat to the coast, the sole survivor of the incident, trying to find some authority to talk to. But nobody came.

Fred found a working car and hightailed it out of the city, followed by a sizable gathering of the dead, on his way to his parents farm, and found nothing there except some food that had not been stripped by looters, and some useful implements. He's been roaming ever since. Until he found you guys, that is.

Motivation: The thought that maybe, maybe this is a good place to start from. A good time to make some friends. After all, you need some reliable shoulders to lean on to survive the apocalypse, and, wouldn't you know it, Fred's been lonely all his life.

Stats:
Strength: 10
Agility: 8
Constitution: 9
Intelligence: 7
Wisdom: 9
Charisma: 7

Traits:
Drunk Fighter: When under the influence of alcohol, Fred's wisdom and intelligence take a hit, but strength and miraculously agility are increased.

Drunkard: Fred cannot resist the temptation of alcohol. He risks inebriation to have but one sip. (if alcohol is nearby, it is hard for him not to drink it, even if there are consequences)


Skills:
- Sailing (1)
- Unarmed combat (1)
- Butchering (1)
- First Aid (1)

Equipment:

Your Keepsake: A note from his mother, asking after his health. He keeps it in a plastic bag along with a photo of his family.

ZR: to be determined by GM
AT: To be determined by GM

[NRDL]

In

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: John Nix
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Job: Secretive Dick Private Detective
Personality: Curious, always curious.  Can be paranoid to an extent, not very good at the whole letting one's guard down, especially if he doesn't have a bead on every facet of a person's existence. 
Undead Philosophy: A very dangerous threat, also an enigma.  Where the hell did they come from?  How do they work?  Is there a cure?
Backstory: PI for 5 years, mostly boring stuff, finding dirt for divorces, evidence for restraining orders.  Dealing with actual criminals and conspiracies was more of a side-hobby, and not very well paying.  When shit hit the figurative fan, Nix had just spent 6 months infiltrating a suspected human trafficking ring, posing as an errand boy for the people smuggling scum.  As soon as people were said to be eating and killing each other in broad daylight, the gang vamoosed.  Not wanting to lose them, Nix hung around, still stubbornly collecting evidence, slowly realising how futile it was.  After 2 months, with most of the gang dead, Nix got out of dodge, and met up with a much ( potentially, although it was yet to be determined ) nicer crowd.
Motivation: Figure out what caused this apocalypse, who's responsible.  Do something about it. 
Stats:

Strength: 8
Agility: 9
Constitution:9
Intelligence: 8
Wisdom: 7
Charisma: 9

Traits: [Perceptive: Bonus to noticing stuff], [Witty: Bonus to charisma based rolls ], [ Too curious for his own good: Roll to resist temptation to solve mystery], [Insensitive to other's feelings: Sarcasm does emotional damage to others, roll for unintentional damage].

Skills: [Bluff+2], [Fisticuffs+2]

Equipment: Trenchcoat ( never leave home without one ), notebook, pencil

Your Keepsake: Old locket from an old sweetheart

ZR:
AT:

Is this alright?

[spümpkin]

Welp, time to get a sheet makin'.

Spoiler: Sheet (click to show/hide)

Name: Alresa Moon
Age: 29
Gender: Female
Job: (Freelance) Investigative Journalist, Unofficial.
Personality: Optimistic, most of the time. Has sudden bursts of nihilism, but hey, don't we all?
Undead Philosophy: Just another problem. Life is like that sometimes. Problem after problem. You just gotta get past it, and reach the light at the end of the tunnel.
Backstory: Before the apocalypse, Alresa was sitting in her s,mall, cramped, London apartment, attempting to live off instant noodles and canned beans for the rest of her life, with her faithful dog companion, Sun. However, she got a particularly interesting case from her assistant, Jason, and headed out into the Amazon, looking for clues. How she managed to get there, is a question best left unanswered. She stumbled upon something that would've led her to a life of luxury, and made her wildest dreams come true. But sadly, of course, a strange and sudden apocalypse happened. Now there's goddamn Dead all over the place, and she can't seem to find her goddamn assistant. What she has kept, however, is her faithful companion, Sun, a pathetic beagle, who, while enthusiastic, doesn't seem to be very good at doing much. It's a wonder he's still alive. He seems to get into trouble often, but can sometimes provide useful in situations requiring animal instinct, or situations requiring dumb luck. After returning home to find most of her apartment ransacked, she salvaged what meager beans and noodles she could, and packed her things and left. Heading out on her trusty biplane, she flew over from country to country, making the most of each situation, and never staying in one place too long. That is, before she met company. Now, she's hopelessly attached, and will cease to let any of them get into dangerous situations. Before she met up with company, she was scavenging in the area, after her biplane had crashed. Normally, she'd take the time to repair it, but hey, why not go with the crowd?
Motivation: The hope for a better tomorrow, the sweet smile of Sun (that is, the dog, not the star), and of course, a good scoop.
Stats:

Strength:6 [+2]
Agility:9 [-1]
Constitution:7 [+1]
Intelligence:9 [-1]
Wisdom:10 [-2]
Charisma:9 [-1]

Traits:
Stupid, yet Loyal Companion:
Has a pet dog, named Sun. A beagle who, while not the greatest at fighting, or doing much at all, seems to be oddly good at getting really lucky.
[Can have assistance from dog in a failed roll (once per day), which grants a free reroll, with a +1 modifier. But, the dog can be killed and infected, and cannot fight. Can also add a +2 modifier to rolls regarding these skills: Investigation, Intimidation.]

Curse of the Moon:
She's albino, which can be quite a hindrance.
[Causes any roll at daytime, to be effected by a -2 modifier, unless she is wearing some sort of sun protection (i.e. Umbrella, really good Sunscreen, etc.)]


Skills:
Investigation: 2
Bargaining: 1
Piloting: 1

Equipment: ((Do we decide this, or do you?))

Your Keepsake: A trusty notebook and pen, where all the information on her cases have been kept over the years. Oh yeah, the pen also sprouts a tiny knife too, so that's cool.

ZR: [---]
AT: [---]

Tintin knock-off beats actual PI.

[StrawBarrel]

How does this look?

Spoiler: Character Sheet (click to show/hide)

Name: Osama Dieye
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Job: Professional Wrestler
Personality: An open and honest man who isn't afraid to speak his mind. His open mindedness, unanalytical prowess, and trustfulness has lead him to believe in many superstitions.
Undead Philosophy: The undead have to be of supernatural origin, maybe even a curse on humanity. Or maybe vodoo? Bad karma perhaps?
Backstory: Osama is a U.S. national and son of two immigrant parents. Upon barely graduating high school, a friend suggested Osama should join him at a pro wrestling school. Although never too keen about school except for amateur wrestling, Osama agreed and began his carrer as a professional wrestler. After a few stints of wrestling in high schools, bars, and empty warehouses, Osama was eventually signed with a regional promotion and given the character Señor Thief III, a faceless masked mook, part of a criminal gimmicked stable. With the help of his athleticism and hard dedication, Osama got over with fans and later given a push. One night his big match, the dead invaded the show, ending it prematurely and permanently. After escaping his initiation with the undead, Osama found a group of surviors holding out in a local police station. All was livable for about a month until the group was attacked by a gang of raiders. Osama once again managed to escape death and began wandering alone in the dying world before finding a new group.
Motivation: Osama hasn’t really thought about what keeps him going. If asked he would probably say living has been all he has done for the last twenty-one years, so why stop? It also helps that he found the group too.

Stats:

Strength: 10
Agility: 10
Constitution: 11
Intelligence: 6
Wisdom: 6
Charisma: 7

Traits:

Poor Hearing-An undiagnosed hearing problem often hampered Osama's education and social life growing up. Now it prevents him from hearing distant moans and cries for help. He usually stands close to those speaking with him to mitigate it.

Brave-Although not immune to fears and pressures, Osama is rather quick to overcome those qualms and adversities.

Superstitious-Osama is prone to believing tall tales, urban legends, and the supernatural. He will often credit unfortunate events for bad karma. At a stable he might look for horseshoes. In a field he will be on the lookout for a four leaf clover. He will be hesitant to cross the path of a black cat or walk under an open ladder.

Improvised Weapon User-Having swung numerous miscellaneous objects over the past few years while wrestling and of late in the apocalypse, picking up a random object and wielding it has become almost second nature for Osama.

Skills:
Unarmed Combat: 2
Acrobatics: 1
Acting: 1

Equipment:((Your starting Equipment will depend on Your Job, Your Skills, Your Traits, and a Few Secret Background Rolls.))

Your Keepsake: A dog whistle given to him by survivor at the police station. Osama thinks it is normal whistle that he can not hear as result of his poor hearing.

ZR:((I'll determine this at the start))
AT:((I'll determine this at the start))

[Lorknis]

This looks well written, hopefully this takes off.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Duncan McShale
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Job: Apprentice Steel Worker
Personality: "Despite everything that's happened we have to help each other out, ya know? It's when we start hating who we are is when we become what we fear."
Undead Philosophy: "The Walking Dead are unfortunate victims but we can't be soft with them, they no longer feel as we do."
Backstory: Before the doom and gloom of the Apocalypse, Duncan was living at home after failing out of college due to his boredom with his classes and spending too much time with his friends. Afterwards he spent the next year unemployed, not sure what to do with his life until a letter came in the mail. It was an offer for an apprenticeship to work in sheet metal and since he had no other options, he decided that this was his best option.

It had only been a half year of his apprenticeship before everything had gone wrong. The dead had risen and his teacher had died in front of him to give him enough time to escape. For the next two months he stayed at home, taking only what he needed from the neighboring homes. It was during one of these outtings he met the group. Due to loneliness he decided he'd stick around, for now.
Motivation: "Nothing to live for? There's plenty to do now that society has started back at zero. Now we can make sure our future generations will not repeat our mistakes."
Stats:
Strength: 10
Agility: 8
Constitution: 8
Intelligence: 8
Wisdom: 8
Charisma: 8

Traits:
Poor Sense of Direction
Above Average night-vision

Skills:
Steel working: 2 (This skill covers things like hammering, welding, and generally shaping metal in useful ways.)
Mechanics: 2

Equipment:((Your starting Equipment will depend on Your Job, Your Skills, Your Traits, and a Few Secret Background Rolls.))

Your Keepsake: A pocket guide to sheet metal, provided by the Union.

ZR:
AT:

[crazyabe]

PTW

[Ardent Debater]

Welp, I'm making a character anyway.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Fred 'Red' Darke
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Job: Fisherman
Personality: At least slightly drunk most of the time and grumpy when sober, Fred really doesn't care about anything other than seeing to his immediate needs, and maybe ensuring he has a place to sleep and a bottle of beer to get hungover on. If he had any friends, he hasn't had to care about them for a long time.
Undead Philosophy: If the dead walk, hell, anything can happen. Even if the first dead he saw were his friends, Fred believes the dead are, simply put, very aggressive animals. You either put them down or they'll do the same to you. If the dead walk, get on with life. At least, that's what Fred'll do.
Backstory: Fred was a mediocre fisherman at best before all this started, working on a small boat with a small net and no friends (but a few annoying acquaintances. Everyday he hauled in some amount of fish, just enough to make enough money to live buy, and everyday he went to the same bar, smoked some pipe weed with a polished wooden pipe he had inherited from his father (who has also lived and worked in the fishing trade) and drinking what little alcohol he could spare money for. Sometimes he wondered what he had given up to live in the fishing trade. Wishes of a good job, for one. A kind and loving relationship. Hell, even a friend would have been appreciated, but a small, cramped ship with not much in the way of hearty crew members and cold, bitter rain lashing out at you wasn't the kind of place to make long lasting relationships.

The day that he realized the dead really were here to stay (he had seen the ravings of so called 'crazy men', talking about the dead rising and all that, and, like most, he had dismissed their claims) was a Sunday. He remembers the day vividly. It began when Roger, the loud, boisterous bo'sun quietly (that was the first weird thing about that day) told the rest of the crew about a small wound some crazy guy had given him the morning before. It looked like a bite.
"What the hell kinda man'd do that?" Fred had asked, and received no answer. Later that day, the crew decided to crash upon their small boat, because they had barely hauled in anything, and nobody wanted to leave without something to show. Fred recalls that he woke with a start to the noise of something scrabbling around the bunks. Something incessantly moaning.

The next day, Fred drove the boat to the coast, the sole survivor of the incident, trying to find some authority to talk to. But nobody came.

Fred found a working car and hightailed it out of the city, followed by a sizable gathering of the dead, on his way to his parents farm, and found nothing there except some food that had not been stripped by looters, and some useful implements. He's been roaming ever since. Until he found you guys, that is.

Motivation: The thought that maybe, maybe this is a good place to start from. A good time to make some friends. After all, you need some reliable shoulders to lean on to survive the apocalypse, and, wouldn't you know it, Fred's been lonely all his life.

Stats:
Strength: 10
Agility: 8
Constitution: 9
Intelligence: 7
Wisdom: 9
Charisma: 7

Traits:
Drunk Fighter: When under the influence of alcohol, Fred's wisdom and intelligence take a hit, but strength and miraculously agility are increased.

Drunkard: Fred cannot resist the temptation of alcohol. He risks inebriation to have but one sip. (if alcohol is nearby, it is hard for him not to drink it, even if there are consequences)


Skills:
- Sailing (1)
- Unarmed combat (1)
- Butchering (1)
- First Aid (1)

Equipment:

Your Keepsake: A note from his mother, asking after his health. He keeps it in a plastic bag along with a photo of his family.

ZR: to be determined by GM
AT: To be determined by GM

A Drunken Fisherman? I like the concept, and the Backstory is well written. IN

In

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: John Nix
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Job: Secretive Dick Private Detective
Personality: Curious, always curious.  Can be paranoid to an extent, not very good at the whole letting one's guard down, especially if he doesn't have a bead on every facet of a person's existence. 
Undead Philosophy: A very dangerous threat, also an enigma.  Where the hell did they come from?  How do they work?  Is there a cure?
Backstory: PI for 5 years, mostly boring stuff, finding dirt for divorces, evidence for restraining orders.  Dealing with actual criminals and conspiracies was more of a side-hobby, and not very well paying.  When shit hit the figurative fan, Nix had just spent 6 months infiltrating a suspected human trafficking ring, posing as an errand boy for the people smuggling scum.  As soon as people were said to be eating and killing each other in broad daylight, the gang vamoosed.  Not wanting to lose them, Nix hung around, still stubbornly collecting evidence, slowly realising how futile it was.  After 2 months, with most of the gang dead, Nix got out of dodge, and met up with a much ( potentially, although it was yet to be determined ) nicer crowd.
Motivation: Figure out what caused this apocalypse, who's responsible.  Do something about it. 
Stats:

Strength: 8
Agility: 9
Constitution:9
Intelligence: 8
Wisdom: 7
Charisma: 9

Traits: [Perceptive: Bonus to noticing stuff], [Witty: Bonus to charisma based rolls ], [ Too curious for his own good: Roll to resist temptation to solve mystery], [Insensitive to other's feelings: Sarcasm does emotional damage to others, roll for unintentional damage].

Skills: [Bluff+2], [Fisticuffs+2]

Equipment: Trenchcoat ( never leave home without one ), notebook, pencil

Your Keepsake: Old locket from an old sweetheart

ZR:
AT:

Is this alright?

I was going to Roll for Your Character's Equipment, but, what You have is reasonable, and I think the Character is interesting. IN

Welp, time to get a sheet makin'.

Spoiler: Sheet (click to show/hide)

Name: Alresa Moon
Age: 29
Gender: Female
Job: (Freelance) Investigative Journalist, Unofficial.
Personality: Optimistic, most of the time. Has sudden bursts of nihilism, but hey, don't we all?
Undead Philosophy: Just another problem. Life is like that sometimes. Problem after problem. You just gotta get past it, and reach the light at the end of the tunnel.
Backstory: Before the apocalypse, Alresa was sitting in her s,mall, cramped, London apartment, attempting to live off instant noodles and canned beans for the rest of her life, with her faithful dog companion, Sun. However, she got a particularly interesting case from her assistant, Jason, and headed out into the Amazon, looking for clues. How she managed to get there, is a question best left unanswered. She stumbled upon something that would've led her to a life of luxury, and made her wildest dreams come true. But sadly, of course, a strange and sudden apocalypse happened. Now there's goddamn Dead all over the place, and she can't seem to find her goddamn assistant. What she has kept, however, is her faithful companion, Sun, a pathetic beagle, who, while enthusiastic, doesn't seem to be very good at doing much. It's a wonder he's still alive. He seems to get into trouble often, but can sometimes provide useful in situations requiring animal instinct, or situations requiring dumb luck. After returning home to find most of her apartment ransacked, she salvaged what meager beans and noodles she could, and packed her things and left. Heading out on her trusty biplane, she flew over from country to country, making the most of each situation, and never staying in one place too long. That is, before she met company. Now, she's hopelessly attached, and will cease to let any of them get into dangerous situations. Before she met up with company, she was scavenging in the area, after her biplane had crashed. Normally, she'd take the time to repair it, but hey, why not go with the crowd?
Motivation: The hope for a better tomorrow, the sweet smile of Sun (that is, the dog, not the star), and of course, a good scoop.
Stats:

Strength:6 [+2]
Agility:9 [-1]
Constitution:7 [+1]
Intelligence:9 [-1]
Wisdom:10 [-2]
Charisma:9 [-1]

Traits:
Stupid, yet Loyal Companion:
Has a pet dog, named Sun. A beagle who, while not the greatest at fighting, or doing much at all, seems to be oddly good at getting really lucky.
[Can have assistance from dog in a failed roll (once per day), which grants a free reroll, with a +1 modifier. But, the dog can be killed and infected, and cannot fight. Can also add a +2 modifier to rolls regarding these skills: Investigation, Intimidation.]

Curse of the Moon:
She's albino, which can be quite a hindrance.
[Causes any roll at daytime, to be effected by a -2 modifier, unless she is wearing some sort of sun protection (i.e. Umbrella, really good Sunscreen, etc.)]


Skills:
Investigation: 2
Bargaining: 1
Piloting: 1

Equipment: ((Do we decide this, or do you?))

Your Keepsake: A trusty notebook and pen, where all the information on her cases have been kept over the years. Oh yeah, the pen also sprouts a tiny knife too, so that's cool.

ZR: [---]
AT: [---]

Tintin knock-off beats actual PI.

A Beagle that gives a Bonus to Intimidation? Must be a pretty vicious Dog. IN

How does this look?

Spoiler: Character Sheet (click to show/hide)

Name: Osama Dieye
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Job: Professional Wrestler
Personality: An open and honest man who isn't afraid to speak his mind. His open mindedness, unanalytical prowess, and trustfulness has lead him to believe in many superstitions.
Undead Philosophy: The undead have to be of supernatural origin, maybe even a curse on humanity. Or maybe vodoo? Bad karma perhaps?
Backstory: Osama is a U.S. national and son of two immigrant parents. Upon barely graduating high school, a friend suggested Osama should join him at a pro wrestling school. Although never too keen about school except for amateur wrestling, Osama agreed and began his carrer as a professional wrestler. After a few stints of wrestling in high schools, bars, and empty warehouses, Osama was eventually signed with a regional promotion and given the character Señor Thief III, a faceless masked mook, part of a criminal gimmicked stable. With the help of his athleticism and hard dedication, Osama got over with fans and later given a push. One night his big match, the dead invaded the show, ending it prematurely and permanently. After escaping his initiation with the undead, Osama found a group of surviors holding out in a local police station. All was livable for about a month until the group was attacked by a gang of raiders. Osama once again managed to escape death and began wandering alone in the dying world before finding a new group.
Motivation: Osama hasn’t really thought about what keeps him going. If asked he would probably say living has been all he has done for the last twenty-one years, so why stop? It also helps that he found the group too.

Stats:

Strength: 10
Agility: 10
Constitution: 11
Intelligence: 6
Wisdom: 6
Charisma: 7

Traits:

Poor Hearing-An undiagnosed hearing problem often hampered Osama's education and social life growing up. Now it prevents him from hearing distant moans and cries for help. He usually stands close to those speaking with him to mitigate it.

Brave-Although not immune to fears and pressures, Osama is rather quick to overcome those qualms and adversities.

Superstitious-Osama is prone to believing tall tales, urban legends, and the supernatural. He will often credit unfortunate events for bad karma. At a stable he might look for horseshoes. In a field he will be on the lookout for a four leaf clover. He will be hesitant to cross the path of a black cat or walk under an open ladder.

Improvised Weapon User-Having swung numerous miscellaneous objects over the past few years while wrestling and of late in the apocalypse, picking up a random object and wielding it has become almost second nature for Osama.

Skills:
Unarmed Combat: 2
Acrobatics: 1
Acting: 1

Equipment:((Your starting Equipment will depend on Your Job, Your Skills, Your Traits, and a Few Secret Background Rolls.))

Your Keepsake: A dog whistle given to him by survivor at the police station. Osama thinks it is normal whistle that he can not hear as result of his poor hearing.

ZR:((I'll determine this at the start))
AT:((I'll determine this at the start))

A Professional Wrestler, and a potential reference to Cataclysm DDA? IN

This looks well written, hopefully this takes off.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Duncan McShale
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Job: Apprentice Steel Worker
Personality: "Despite everything that's happened we have to help each other out, ya know? It's when we start hating who we are is when we become what we fear."
Undead Philosophy: "The Walking Dead are unfortunate victims but we can't be soft with them, they no longer feel as we do."
Backstory: Before the doom and gloom of the Apocalypse, Duncan was living at home after failing out of college due to his boredom with his classes and spending too much time with his friends. Afterwards he spent the next year unemployed, not sure what to do with his life until a letter came in the mail. It was an offer for an apprenticeship to work in sheet metal and since he had no other options, he decided that this was his best option.

It had only been a half year of his apprenticeship before everything had gone wrong. The dead had risen and his teacher had died in front of him to give him enough time to escape. For the next two months he stayed at home, taking only what he needed from the neighboring homes. It was during one of these outtings he met the group. Due to loneliness he decided he'd stick around, for now.
Motivation: "Nothing to live for? There's plenty to do now that society has started back at zero. Now we can make sure our future generations will not repeat our mistakes."
Stats:
Strength: 10
Agility: 8
Constitution: 8
Intelligence: 8
Wisdom: 8
Charisma: 8

Traits:
Poor Sense of Direction
Above Average night-vision

Skills:
Steel working: 2 (This skill covers things like hammering, welding, and generally shaping metal in useful ways.)
Mechanics: 2

Equipment:((Your starting Equipment will depend on Your Job, Your Skills, Your Traits, and a Few Secret Background Rolls.))

Your Keepsake: A pocket guide to sheet metal, provided by the Union.

ZR:
AT:

Thank You, Lorknis. A College Dropout and a Philosophical Blacksmith? Interesting Combination... IN

PTW

Hooray, another Poster!

OK, Now that there are Five Characters, All we need is One more. Waitlisters, Remember, Characters will die off quickly.

[crazyabe]

Spoiler: Every Group Needs a Mad Man! (click to show/hide)

Name: Johnny Jimson <Real name: Andrew Slanson AKA Andrew The Man-Hunter>
Age: 23
Gender: Mail
Job: "Postman" <Real Job: Serial Killer / mugger / Wanted Criminal / Gangster>
Personality: I like killin' Things, and Man is just like any other Animal...
Undead Philosophy: They don't Stay dead, I Like Fixin' that.
Backstory: Before the shit hit the Fan I was livin' in a Backstreet shit hole, Beatin' people to death and Taken their cash so I could pay for my rent. On the day Most of Society Decided to fall in on it's self I was Arrested, The Fuckin' Cop Crashed into a Firetruck and Died near instantly with me makein' sure he'd stay dead by Beatin' in his head. For the two months after that I Decided to hide out in the Sewers, Comein' up in Malls, Apartments and, Other places that had Sewer access, Then some Idots Decided to Invade the Sewers, Shoot me in the Hand, and Leave it all open. just to add insult to injury they ended up gettin' Eaten by the Fuckers that should have been dead already. Soon afterward I ended up Runin' into this Group, Or should I say Over as I had Ran over some guy in a Car I had Hot wired, I still don't know WHO I ran over Just that he had been Followin' em With a Machete Covered in Rotten Flesh...
Motivation: the fact that one thing that I always wished has happened, me generally being able to do what ever the fuck I want now that Society is Walkin' Dead.
Stats:

Strength: 11
Agility: 9
Constitution: 9
Intelligence: 10
Wisdom: 6
Charisma: 5

Traits: V
Psycho: +1 to attempt VERY immoral Actions, +1 to attacks on Still Living Foes, Fear has less effects.
Criminal: +1 to Things Like Lock-picking, Breaking and entering, Drug Identification, Ext.
disconnected: -1 to all Social Interactions with Living Allies.
Paranoid: -1 while in any unsecured Structure, -1 to all Social Interactions with Survivors not in the group.

Skills:
[Blades 2/?]
[Explosives 1/?]
[Stealth 1/?]

Equipment:((Your starting Equipment will depend on Your Job, Your Skills, Your Traits, and a Few Secret Background Rolls.))


Your Keepsake:((One small item, large enough to fit in a small pocket, that You are guaranteed to start with, an old wedding ring, your old Cellphone, or a trusty penknife, for example.))


ZR:((I'll determine this at the start))
AT:((I'll determine this at the start))

[StrawBarrel]

Spoiler: Every Group Needs a Mad Man! (click to show/hide)

Name: Johnny Jimson <Real name: Andrew Slanson AKA Andrew The Man-Hunter>
Age: 23
Gender: Mail
Job: "Postman" <Real Job: Serial Killer / mugger / Wanted Criminal / Gangster>
Personality: I like killin' Things, and Man is just like any other Animal...
Undead Philosophy: They don't Stay dead, I Like Fixin' that.
Backstory: Before the shit hit the Fan I was livin' in a Backstreet shit hole, Beatin' people to death and Taken their cash so I could pay for my rent. On the day Most of Society Decided to fall in on it's self I was Arrested, The Fuckin' Cop Crashed into a Firetruck and Died near instantly with me makein' sure he'd stay dead by Beatin' in his head. For the two months after that I Decided to hide out in the Sewers, Comein' up in Malls, Apartments and, Other places that had Sewer access, Then some Idots Decided to Invade the Sewers, Shoot me in the Hand, and Leave it all open. just to add insult to injury they ended up gettin' Eaten by the Fuckers that should have been dead already. Soon afterward I ended up Runin' into this Group, Or should I say Over as I had Ran over some guy in a Car I had Hot wired, I still don't know WHO I ran over Just that he had been Followin' em With a Machete Covered in Rotten Flesh...
Motivation: the fact that one thing that I always wished has happened, me generally being able to do what ever the fuck I want now that Society is Walkin' Dead.
Stats:

Strength: 11
Agility: 9
Constitution: 9
Intelligence: 10
Wisdom: 6
Charisma: 5

Traits: V
Psycho: +1 to attempt VERY immoral Actions, +1 to attacks on Still Living Foes, Fear has less effects.
Criminal: +1 to Things Like Lock-picking, Breaking and entering, Drug Identification, Ext.
disconnected: -1 to all Social Interactions with Living Allies.
Paranoid: -1 while in any unsecured Structure, -1 to all Social Interactions with Survivors not in the group.

Skills:
[Blades 2/?]
[Explosives 1/?]
[Stealth 1/?]

Equipment:((Your starting Equipment will depend on Your Job, Your Skills, Your Traits, and a Few Secret Background Rolls.))


Your Keepsake:((One small item, large enough to fit in a small pocket, that You are guaranteed to start with, an old wedding ring, your old Cellphone, or a trusty penknife, for example.))


ZR:((I'll determine this at the start))
AT:((I'll determine this at the start))

I think you get a bonus skill point because of your 10 Intelligence. Also you forgot your Keepsake.

[crazyabe]

Thanks, changed it.

Spoiler: Every Group Needs a Mad Man! (click to show/hide)

Name: Johnny Jimson <Real name: Andrew Slanson AKA Andrew The Man-Hunter>
Age: 23
Gender: Mail
Job: "Postman" <Real Job: Serial Killer / mugger / Wanted Criminal / Gangster>
Personality: I like killin' Things, and Man is just like any other Animal...
Undead Philosophy: They don't Stay dead, I Like Fixin' that.
Backstory: Before the shit hit the Fan I was livin' in a Backstreet shit hole, Beatin' people to death and Taken their cash so I could pay for my rent. On the day Most of Society Decided to fall in on it's self I was Arrested, The Fuckin' Cop Crashed into a Firetruck and Died near instantly with me makein' sure he'd stay dead by Beatin' in his head. For the two months after that I Decided to hide out in the Sewers, Comein' up in Malls, Apartments and, Other places that had Sewer access, Then some Idots Decided to Invade the Sewers, Shoot me in the Hand, and Leave it all open. just to add insult to injury they ended up gettin' Eaten by the Fuckers that should have been dead already. Soon afterward I ended up Runin' into this Group, Or should I say Over as I had Ran over some guy in a Car I had Hot wired, I still don't know WHO I ran over Just that he had been Followin' em With a Machete Covered in Rotten Flesh...
Motivation: the fact that one thing that I always wished has happened, me generally being able to do what ever the fuck I want now that Society is Walkin' Dead.
Stats:

Strength: 11
Agility: 9
Constitution: 9
Intelligence: 10
Wisdom: 6
Charisma: 5

Traits: V
Psycho: +1 to attempt VERY immoral Actions, +1 to attacks on Still Living Foes, Fear has less effects.
Criminal: +1 to Things Like Lock-picking, Breaking and entering, Drug Identification, Ext.
disconnected: -1 to all Social Interactions with Living Allies.
Paranoid: -1 while in any unsecured Structure, -1 to all Social Interactions with Survivors not in the group.

Skills:
[Blades 2/?]
[Explosives 1/?]
[Stealth 2/?]

Equipment:((Your starting Equipment will depend on Your Job, Your Skills, Your Traits, and a Few Secret Background Rolls.))


Your Keepsake: a pair of Spiked brass Knuckels that I made my first mugging with.


ZR:((I'll determine this at the start))
AT:((I'll determine this at the start))

[spümpkin]

Beagles are the most fearsome of all the dogs. Fear them, and their floppy ears.

[Pencil_Art]

Floppy ears rule supreme.