Old TF2 RP (closed)

[Zorak the Mantis]

Earlier to day I was talking to a fellow escapist and friend. The topic of TF2 and rpg's came up and we said, "hey why not?"

So the plan is to find a few like minded people who want to RP the TF2 team in various settings and missions.

Each person will take turns as "the announcer" and GM, while still playing their character.

If you are interested, post which character you would prefer to RP as, first come first serve.

The game will be held at least once a week via AIM or some other chat based program.

Please do not apply to play if you cannot be reliable.

Playing times and other details will be worked out once we have a core group of players.

Characters - Players
Heavy - MetroidNut
Medic - Mallefunction
Pyro - Zorak
Engineer - Hot Dog
Scout -
Sniper - Pappytech
Soldier - Mr.Ivebeenframed
Demoman -
Spy - Benndak

 

[Mallefunction]

Also, give a writing sample just so we know what we're dealing with. It doesn't have to be perfect, but we'd prefer basic English and grammar skills. We'd like to keep as close to canon as possible so make sure that you can stick to what's already been established for your character (minor details notwithstanding).

 

[Anarchemitis]

Winter makes the sun rise late, and that means coffee in the morning. The the indignant clarion of the clock radio snooze wearing off made Dell finally crawl out of his bed, bleary-eyed and slow. He grunted quietly. Dang 'old winter.
Walking down the steps from the barracks to the mess hall he could see he was the first one up from the lack of persons in the room.
He checked his watch: "8:16".
Coffee always perked him up, but he would abstain from it as much as possible, simply relying on the sun to get him charged, usually around five or so. But the overcast of the Viaduct valley and rain-catch of Knifeback mountain meant the sun would hide most the morning and afternoon. Dell preferred Badwater any day. But, work was work, and as usual he would do what he had to, for the cheque at fortnight's end.
At least another morning like this gave him a chance to try out that invention he cooked up yesterday to make Sniper's lazy excuses even lazier. He stopped bothering to ask Scout to start coffee in the morning, judging from how unreliable he was at being up early from either his early-bird energy drink binges, or simply sleeping in like a teenager does. He clapped his hands twice and the coffee maker automatically came on with a delighted 'beep!'.
He reached towards a stack of papers and magazines of various levels of intrigue (risque or otherwise) and extracted a copy of "Mechanically-Inclined Monthly" and returned to where he left off on an article about liquid ferrodynamics, sitting down at the main table, waiting patiently for the coffee to brew.

 

[Pappytech]

Eh, sounds fun. Why not? Any chance I could be the Sniper?

Spoiler: Edit: New Writing Sample Because I am an Idiot Who Can't Read Instructions

The annoying buzzing of an alarm clock was the first thing the man heard. It pulled him from his dreams, leaving him half awake and groggy.

As his head cleared, he glanced over at the calendar, noting the big read X printed on today's date. Right, that was today.

Rolling out of bed, the man picked up the machete he left on his nightstand. Clipping the sheathe onto his pajama pants, he stumbled into the kitchen, and got the coffeemaker going. Mumbling to himself, he turned back around, venturing back into the bedroom.

Five minutes later, the man was fully clothed, and the coffee was ready. Two cups later, he finally felt awake. Time to get started.

First, calibrations. Stepping outside his home, he gently removed his rifle from its case. Pressing the stock against his shoulder, he eyed the target he had set up last night. Situated about 500 yards away, it still bore the scars from last night's training. Inhaling and exhaling slowly, the man raised his rifle, until its scope was level with his eye. An instant later, he had lined up the cross-hair with the bulls-eye. He inhaled... and fired.

"Two inches off," he muttered to himself. Gently, he tweaked the knobs on the scope. His next shot was dead center. Satisfied, the man squeezed off a few more shots.

Once the rifle was reloaded and put back in its case, the man brought out his sub-machine gun. After a few practice rounds, he slung it over his shoulder, and stuck a few magazines into his vest.

Entering his home, the man visited the kitchen again. He poured the rest of the coffee into a thermos, and made a few sandwiches. As he was wrapping his lunch, his phone began to ring. The man glanced at the number and inwardly groaned.

One awkward conversation with his parents later, he gladly dropped the phone. Glancing at his clock, he realized it was time to leave.

The man walked up to the front of his trailer, and slid into the driver's seat. Giving his lucky Hitler bobble-head a flick, he muttered, "Headshot," before starting the engine. It was time to go to work.

Updated the sample. Sorry about that.

 

[MetroidNut]

Like Comrade Benndak, I have my roots in chat RPing as well. So what the hell, why not? I shall apply for the excellent patriotic socialist position of Heavy Weapons Guy.

Spoiler: Writing Sample

The man known only as Heavy Weapons Guy (to the free world, at least) sat in front of a well-built table. It was the third table to take up residence in the RED armory. The previous two had not been well-built; Sasha had made short work of them. The aforementioned minigun was currently disassembled, her parts spread out across the workbench. The Heavy was in the process of inspecting and cleaning each component individually, his fingers moving with a delicate care not often seen outside a nursery.

All of his comrades were sound asleep, of course - it was nearly midnight. But for the Heavy, late night was the one time he was guaranteed to be alone. The one time it was just him and Sasha. He could think clearly, for a change, without having to fight a war, try to respond to the occasional insult from his own team, or even worry about speaking English.

Fighting for RED had come with a downside the Heavy hadn't expected; speaking English was exceptionally difficult for the native Russian. His struggle with the language not only made every conversation a battle for the Heavy, but had given him a reputation for stupidity. A shame, really. He wagered none of his colleagues had a PhD in Russian Literature.

Suddenly, he saw it. On one of Sasha's six barrels. A single smudge that, upon closer inspection, took the form of a fingerprint.

The Heavy's eyes narrowed.

 

[Zorak the Mantis]

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Welcome to the Team

Once we have a few more people we can start discussing a time.

 

[Pappytech]

Yay!

 

[Mallefunction]

Snip

Looks like we've gotten quite a few more people. Anyhow, I just wanted to warn you that my comp is gonna be in hospital (poor Neuro T-T) on Saturday for a bit to fix the fan so I won't have computer access tomorrow...and probably Sunday and Monday as well. If we get more people by then, just text me and I can assist the setup by phone, ok?

 

[Icarion (aka Stockholm)]

I would like to apply for the position of scout. Notes:
For those of you who don't know, the Scout is from Boston, which is home to the Boston Red Sox and Fenway bark. The Green Moster is the left field wall. The Yankees are Bostons rival baseball team. They wear pinstripe uniforms. Im from Boston.

Spoiler: Writing Sample

Crack As the bat made contact, the ball flew high in the air, sailing over the Green Monster. The crowd cheered as the Red Sox player slowly trotted around the bases. The man known only as "The Scout" sat in his chair and grumbled, "I coulda hit that ball twice as far. I dont know why I come to these. No one is half as good as I am. They get 20 stolen bases and its a a damn landmark. I could get 20 in one game! Thats it, Im outta here." The Scout rose and made his way out of the stamdium and into the street. A shot whizzed by his head. He instinctively looked around and spotted a man in a pinstripe suit in a window, reloading his bolt action rifle. "Damn Yankees!" The Scout took off, running into the lobby of the building. He hit the elevator call button and stood waiting, impatiently tapping his foot. "Screw this, Ill use the stairs." The Scout ran up the stairs and burst into the room where the shooter had last been seen. With his bat in hand, the Scout went from room to room, looking for the assailant. He found him in the bed and promptly beat him to death with the bat. "Too bad buddy. Better luck next time." On the way out the Scout noticed a sandwich lying half eaten on the table in the kitchen. "Hey, what do ya know! Its my lucky day!" The Scout scooped up the sandwich and began eating it as he walked back down to the street.

 

[Zorak the Mantis]

snip

Welcome aboard. I always thought he was from Brooklyn

 

[Anarchemitis]

The theory of location origin I like the most is the idea that unless needed for plot reasons, the Team lives and sleeps in barracks near (but in-game inaccessible) the spawn rooms in the map they're on. For example, in Badlands, there would be some kind of living quarters built near in-behind the spawn rooms at the opposite ends of the valley, and if/when they need to leave, they travel by rail on the train bridge in the middle of the map. Lengthy introductions by way of different continental or regional locations might become confusing. Sniper can live in a van offsite from the map area, but the rest of the team needing a commute might be a tad unnecessary for the reasons of plot advancement and interaction.

 

[Zorak the Mantis]

Yes as far as the game goes, each character will know one another and be living together. Also anything written in this thread isn't in game, just planning it.

 

[Mallefunction]

Wow, Zorak...really? You didn't know it was Boston? Are you sure you're an East coaster? XD I haven't lived back East for over ten years and even I got his accent right away! Shame on you.

 

[Zorak the Mantis]

Wow, Zorak...really? You didn't know it was Boston? Are you sure you're an East coaster? XD I haven't lived back East for over ten years and even I got his accent right away! Shame on you.

Oh, I know he's from Boston. I'm just being facetious with our Scout player. I know Bostonians hate being confused with those good fer nothing New Yorkers

 

[Icarion (aka Stockholm)]

Wow, Zorak...really? You didn't know it was Boston? Are you sure you're an East coaster? XD I haven't lived back East for over ten years and even I got his accent right away! Shame on you.

Oh, I know he's from Boston. I'm just being facetious with our Scout player. I know Bostonians hate being confused with New Yorkers

Well one city is awesome and the other is New York. Simple enough to keep straight XD

 

[Zorak the Mantis]

Well one city is awesome and the other is New York. Simple enough to keep straight XD

The Bruins did win the Cup this year, so I will have to agree XD

 

[Mallefunction]

Snip

Scratch that XD

Nevermind.

 

[Zorak the Mantis]

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I was thinking out first "mission" could be to rescue the Soldier and/or Demo man if we do not have a person to fill the gap.

 

[Zorak the Mantis]

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ALSO;

We should start talking about a convenient time for all of us to play. What days of the week and times work for everyone and what timezone is everyone in?

I will update the first post with everyone's availability for working this out.