The Long Odyssey: Survival Space Opera [OPEN - Accepting Character Sheets]
- Thread starter Krunchybars
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Wait you said Crelm had 8 tentacles on each hand.avouleance2nd said:
How the hell can they use sign language?
@ Everyone: The character sheet template will be posted soon and you can send your sheets once I put it up
Apart from that (and while I love the energy) I would kindly asked that all OOC go in the User Group [http://www.escapistmagazine.com/groups/view/The-Long-Odyssey] purely because the mods may lock the thread for cluttering.
Apart from that (and while I love the energy) I would kindly asked that all OOC go in the User Group [http://www.escapistmagazine.com/groups/view/The-Long-Odyssey] purely because the mods may lock the thread for cluttering.
Hello, I was wondering if it was possible for me to reserve a spot as a JCA Field Agent?
P.S. I know I'm new to these forums, but I like to think myself a person capable of writing, and following rules.......... Or at least something close to "capable".
P.S. I know I'm new to these forums, but I like to think myself a person capable of writing, and following rules.......... Or at least something close to "capable".
Name : Gar Johannson.
Age : 52.
Race : Human.
Gender : Male.
Appearance : Grey and white hair reaching over his ears. Blue and deep eyes that hide his pain, along with a thick stubble across the chin and down his throat. Gar stands at a tall 6'7 and weighs around 90kgs without armor and clothing. His face is weathered after years of combat.
Faction : Mercenary. Retired JCA.
Homeplanet : Born in 'Alpha-2 Station B'. Has never set foot on a planet.
Weapons : Gar carries the CLS-N29 SMG along with the SAL revolver sidearm.
Misc items : A half empty wooden box of cigars along with a zippo lighter. He also likes to carry his shaving razor that his father brought from Earth and gave him on his 14th birthday.
Role : Rapid Response Team. Marine Medic from JCA
Bio : Gar was born on a space station in the Alpha sector next to Earth. His father and mother came from northern Europe, so he was named a Nordic name in tradition of his family's history. He started his combat training at the age of fifteen and finished ten years later. Gar joined up in the JCA military before they retreated back to the three core planets.
He saw some pretty heavy fighting where he traveled, but he never actually got to go to a planet. Every fight he was in was either on board space ships or stations, as well as mining rigs and there was one time when he wrestled a Mercenary in open space.
"There's nothing to it, and you will become a hero of war son. Don't you see what that means?"
Those words, the last his father ever spoke to him, still ring in his head after the nightmares he gets.
Gar retired at the early age of 47 after he lost consciousness while fighting a Mercenary in space without any oxygen. He received minor brain damage that resulted in him losing his medical license and getting kicked from the JCA.
Broken and stripped of rank, he boarded a shuttle to a mining rig in the Charlie sector with only his medals and scars, and tall tales. The money he received for his service in the army accommodated him with a place to sleep for and booze for his memories.
"A hero of war..."
That's all he wanted to be. Just wanted to make his father proud.
His first assignment in the JCA was the worst. His squad were to assault a station that was believed to be shipping JCA weapons and ammo to the enemy.
It was pretty straight forward; get the target and get out. But it was never that easy.
The man responsible was just a civilian looking for easy money in smuggling, but Gar's comrades wanted to teach him a lesson. They pissed on him, beat him down with their guns and spat on him as he lay there in agony. "Stop!" He remembered himself calling out, but he soon joined in on it. And that was just the beginning.
Age : 52.
Race : Human.
Gender : Male.
Appearance : Grey and white hair reaching over his ears. Blue and deep eyes that hide his pain, along with a thick stubble across the chin and down his throat. Gar stands at a tall 6'7 and weighs around 90kgs without armor and clothing. His face is weathered after years of combat.
Faction : Mercenary. Retired JCA.
Homeplanet : Born in 'Alpha-2 Station B'. Has never set foot on a planet.
Weapons : Gar carries the CLS-N29 SMG along with the SAL revolver sidearm.
Misc items : A half empty wooden box of cigars along with a zippo lighter. He also likes to carry his shaving razor that his father brought from Earth and gave him on his 14th birthday.
Role : Rapid Response Team. Marine Medic from JCA
Bio : Gar was born on a space station in the Alpha sector next to Earth. His father and mother came from northern Europe, so he was named a Nordic name in tradition of his family's history. He started his combat training at the age of fifteen and finished ten years later. Gar joined up in the JCA military before they retreated back to the three core planets.
He saw some pretty heavy fighting where he traveled, but he never actually got to go to a planet. Every fight he was in was either on board space ships or stations, as well as mining rigs and there was one time when he wrestled a Mercenary in open space.
"There's nothing to it, and you will become a hero of war son. Don't you see what that means?"
Those words, the last his father ever spoke to him, still ring in his head after the nightmares he gets.
Gar retired at the early age of 47 after he lost consciousness while fighting a Mercenary in space without any oxygen. He received minor brain damage that resulted in him losing his medical license and getting kicked from the JCA.
Broken and stripped of rank, he boarded a shuttle to a mining rig in the Charlie sector with only his medals and scars, and tall tales. The money he received for his service in the army accommodated him with a place to sleep for and booze for his memories.
"A hero of war..."
That's all he wanted to be. Just wanted to make his father proud.
His first assignment in the JCA was the worst. His squad were to assault a station that was believed to be shipping JCA weapons and ammo to the enemy.
It was pretty straight forward; get the target and get out. But it was never that easy.
The man responsible was just a civilian looking for easy money in smuggling, but Gar's comrades wanted to teach him a lesson. They pissed on him, beat him down with their guns and spat on him as he lay there in agony. "Stop!" He remembered himself calling out, but he soon joined in on it. And that was just the beginning.
I did PM you a rough sheet before, here is the finalised version. I noticed there was alot of interest for a Merc Pilot. So if there is too much interest in this role and my character is not chosen to kit it out, I was wondering if the option of submiting another character would be available? After this, I will keep OOC to the User Group.
Character Sheet:
Character Sheet:
Name: Jericho Sanders Eladore.
Age: 48
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Appearance: Standing at 5'10, Jericho is well built for his age. Jericho's hair is a short crew cut, while mostly grey; his hair has a sprinkling of its original black in it. He face is defined and young looking, at least for his age. He is never seen with stubble, due to his strict sense of cleanliness. Over his armoured jump-suite, he wears a brown leather jacket. When on what Jericho affectionately calls 'R&R in civy-street' he wears Jeans, t-shirt and his jacket.
Faction: Mercenary
Homeplanet: Fraxis Prime 3: The third moon of Fraxis Prime in the Plyron sector, a forest moon on which he grew up learning to fly small love orbit transport ships on his father's farm. The history of the Human settlers of Fraxis Prime 3 (affectionately referred to by its inhabitants as simply '3') is marred in secrecy, even to its current inhabitants. Some suggest that they were affluent land owners from the inner-sector worlds who fell upon hard times and chose to move to outer worlds, much like their neighbours upon Fraxis Prime and its second moon. Other, more controversial historians lay down claims of exploitation, mass culling and eventual extinction of sentient native species. These historians are met by harsh and often irrational denial from the more conservative members of 3's populace.
Weapons: CLS-N29 SMG (Primary) MAG 12 Personal Side Arm (Secondary) Flashbang X 2 (Grenades)
MAG 12: The MAG 12 was the last kinetic weapon made by the now defunct SECorp weapons manufacturer of the core worlds. Extremely rare, often considered among the knowledgeable to be a 'master' crafted sidearm. Stopping power is below average when compared to contemporary kinetic weaponry, the MAG 12 is held in high regards for three main reasons. Firstly, its magazine size is legendary among gun enthusiasts, at 26 rounds per dual magazine which can be ejected independently. Secondly, the guns ease of use and accuracy made it a commercial success when in production. Thirdly, and most importantly for Jericho is its unique material composition. The weapon is manufactured from materials undetectable to conventional scans. When disassembled it is easily smuggled or stowed away within everyday items.
Misc items: 'Civilian' clothing, a few personal items, and his customised X13 Supply Shuttle. Limited weaponry is made up for by its apt cargo bay and combination of manoeuvrability and speed.
Armour: Modified X12 Myraid Fighter jumpsuit. These suites were in circulation and heavy usage at the time Jericho finished his service in Plyron defence forces. He has had the suite replaced several times over the last two decades, each time finding it harder to find a good condition jumpsuite. His current suite is modified to give him basic protection from hand-held ordinance, as well as pass as a more casual uniform to the untrained eye.
Role: Pilot
Bio: Jericho served in both the Armed Forces and Navy Fleets of the Plyron sector's defence forces during the Great War. Seeing limited combat time within the ground forces, his transfer to the Navy came when he aced the flight tests issued to new recruits with relatively little training. Friends often mused he was a natural in the cockpit. A star pilot, considered an 'ace' behind the reins of an X12 Myraid Fighter, Jericho had the highest kilcount in his squadron. His headstrong and opinionated nature led to a series of disagreements with his superior officers which ultimately culminated in an honourable discharge from the forces. With a growing disgust for the politics situated in and around the JCA & Dominion tensions, Jericho took his skills elsewhere, to the Mercenary factions. After seeing far too much bloodshed, he opted for a more peaceful approach, smuggling contraband between sectors, and staying on the shadey side of the law.
In the past decade Jericho has had very few confrontational encounters in which he has had to draw his weapon on a sentient being, and he likes it that way. In between becoming accustomed to a multitude of different rigs and ships over the years, Jericho has kept up a personal training regime. He has a strict sense of self discipline, partly due to his time in the forces, and partly due to his father?s influence over him when he was younger, extending to his diet, exercise and weapons training. He is in peak physical condition for someone possibly five years his junior. His aim is as good as ever, but he does not remember the thrill of face to face combat. He often muses upon what his reactions would be like under fire on the ground, after all these years, but would rather not find out any time soon.
Off the ground Jericho has had plenty of encounters with the law and the military, often escaping from scrapes by the skin of his teeth. His reflexes are as astute as they ever were, if not more so. His abilities as a pilot have made him something of a legend among the mercenaries of his home sector. Due to owing a few favours, and pay he simply couldn?t turn down, Jericho is taking a mission he would not usually consider. He must transport and aid some shady mercenary operatives in any way they need. He is not clear on the full details of the mission as of yet, and is not happy about this. But he has little choice, owing some rather nasty characters some rather big favours.
Age: 48
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Appearance: Standing at 5'10, Jericho is well built for his age. Jericho's hair is a short crew cut, while mostly grey; his hair has a sprinkling of its original black in it. He face is defined and young looking, at least for his age. He is never seen with stubble, due to his strict sense of cleanliness. Over his armoured jump-suite, he wears a brown leather jacket. When on what Jericho affectionately calls 'R&R in civy-street' he wears Jeans, t-shirt and his jacket.
Faction: Mercenary
Homeplanet: Fraxis Prime 3: The third moon of Fraxis Prime in the Plyron sector, a forest moon on which he grew up learning to fly small love orbit transport ships on his father's farm. The history of the Human settlers of Fraxis Prime 3 (affectionately referred to by its inhabitants as simply '3') is marred in secrecy, even to its current inhabitants. Some suggest that they were affluent land owners from the inner-sector worlds who fell upon hard times and chose to move to outer worlds, much like their neighbours upon Fraxis Prime and its second moon. Other, more controversial historians lay down claims of exploitation, mass culling and eventual extinction of sentient native species. These historians are met by harsh and often irrational denial from the more conservative members of 3's populace.
Weapons: CLS-N29 SMG (Primary) MAG 12 Personal Side Arm (Secondary) Flashbang X 2 (Grenades)
MAG 12: The MAG 12 was the last kinetic weapon made by the now defunct SECorp weapons manufacturer of the core worlds. Extremely rare, often considered among the knowledgeable to be a 'master' crafted sidearm. Stopping power is below average when compared to contemporary kinetic weaponry, the MAG 12 is held in high regards for three main reasons. Firstly, its magazine size is legendary among gun enthusiasts, at 26 rounds per dual magazine which can be ejected independently. Secondly, the guns ease of use and accuracy made it a commercial success when in production. Thirdly, and most importantly for Jericho is its unique material composition. The weapon is manufactured from materials undetectable to conventional scans. When disassembled it is easily smuggled or stowed away within everyday items.
Misc items: 'Civilian' clothing, a few personal items, and his customised X13 Supply Shuttle. Limited weaponry is made up for by its apt cargo bay and combination of manoeuvrability and speed.
Armour: Modified X12 Myraid Fighter jumpsuit. These suites were in circulation and heavy usage at the time Jericho finished his service in Plyron defence forces. He has had the suite replaced several times over the last two decades, each time finding it harder to find a good condition jumpsuite. His current suite is modified to give him basic protection from hand-held ordinance, as well as pass as a more casual uniform to the untrained eye.
Role: Pilot
Bio: Jericho served in both the Armed Forces and Navy Fleets of the Plyron sector's defence forces during the Great War. Seeing limited combat time within the ground forces, his transfer to the Navy came when he aced the flight tests issued to new recruits with relatively little training. Friends often mused he was a natural in the cockpit. A star pilot, considered an 'ace' behind the reins of an X12 Myraid Fighter, Jericho had the highest kilcount in his squadron. His headstrong and opinionated nature led to a series of disagreements with his superior officers which ultimately culminated in an honourable discharge from the forces. With a growing disgust for the politics situated in and around the JCA & Dominion tensions, Jericho took his skills elsewhere, to the Mercenary factions. After seeing far too much bloodshed, he opted for a more peaceful approach, smuggling contraband between sectors, and staying on the shadey side of the law.
In the past decade Jericho has had very few confrontational encounters in which he has had to draw his weapon on a sentient being, and he likes it that way. In between becoming accustomed to a multitude of different rigs and ships over the years, Jericho has kept up a personal training regime. He has a strict sense of self discipline, partly due to his time in the forces, and partly due to his father?s influence over him when he was younger, extending to his diet, exercise and weapons training. He is in peak physical condition for someone possibly five years his junior. His aim is as good as ever, but he does not remember the thrill of face to face combat. He often muses upon what his reactions would be like under fire on the ground, after all these years, but would rather not find out any time soon.
Off the ground Jericho has had plenty of encounters with the law and the military, often escaping from scrapes by the skin of his teeth. His reflexes are as astute as they ever were, if not more so. His abilities as a pilot have made him something of a legend among the mercenaries of his home sector. Due to owing a few favours, and pay he simply couldn?t turn down, Jericho is taking a mission he would not usually consider. He must transport and aid some shady mercenary operatives in any way they need. He is not clear on the full details of the mission as of yet, and is not happy about this. But he has little choice, owing some rather nasty characters some rather big favours.
Ah man.
I'm having a hard time deciding between a guy with a cyborg leg & eye, or a lizard-man with Gecko limbs...
I'm having a hard time deciding between a guy with a cyborg leg & eye, or a lizard-man with Gecko limbs...
Name : Felix Leone (pronounced Lee-own-ay)
Age : 33
Race: Human
Gender : Male
Appearance: Roughly 5'9", purple eyes as a result of gene modification as a child, . He is roughly 200 pounds standard gravity, most of which is muscle. His right arm is a cybernetic prosthetic, moderately stronger than a normal human's arm. He keeps his dark brown hair cut short, and his face clean-shaven.
Faction : Mercenary
Homeplanet: Tagon-Breya, a small, yet densely populated satellite of Capthillius.
Weapons: SAL "Centurion" Revolver, EPR-57 Shotgun
EPR-57: Manufactured by Macris Ballistics, an independent firearms company who sells their blueprints to either the JCA or the Kurast Dominion, whoever pays the most the fastest. The EPR-57 has an 18-round tubular magazine, capable of firing both buck shot and plasma slugs. (Felix favors the slugs for accuracy and stopping power.) Felix affectionately refers to his EPR-57 as "the Bastard."
Misc items : His father's JCA dog tags, and his machete, the blade of which has been carbonized to prevent glare shining off of it.
Role: Security Officer
Bio: Felix is the eldest son of Matthew Leone, an ex-JCA infantry officer. While initially vastly supportive of the JCA, Felix grew an unrivaled hatred for the organization when his father was unjustly court-martialed and dishonorably discharged as a result of a mistake made by one the higher-ups. His father, a veteran of the Great War, had taken the time to teach the JCA's special CQC techniques to him, resulting in a very strong, loyal bond between father and son.
As a result, whenever someone works with Felix for a long enough time, he forms a bond with them, whether they like it or not, and he will defend to the death said someone. He is intensely loyal, but not to a fault. If his commander is doing something he doesn't approve of, he'll either bring up his discontent, or just leave. A trait which has actually saved his life more than once, backing out of an especially shady contract is a skill all veteran mercs learn sooner or later, but Felix has an uncanny knack for it.
After the success of the past few contracts, he has decided to try to take advantage of his winning streak by taking on bigger and more elaborate contracts.
Age : 33
Race: Human
Gender : Male
Appearance: Roughly 5'9", purple eyes as a result of gene modification as a child, . He is roughly 200 pounds standard gravity, most of which is muscle. His right arm is a cybernetic prosthetic, moderately stronger than a normal human's arm. He keeps his dark brown hair cut short, and his face clean-shaven.
Faction : Mercenary
Homeplanet: Tagon-Breya, a small, yet densely populated satellite of Capthillius.
Weapons: SAL "Centurion" Revolver, EPR-57 Shotgun
EPR-57: Manufactured by Macris Ballistics, an independent firearms company who sells their blueprints to either the JCA or the Kurast Dominion, whoever pays the most the fastest. The EPR-57 has an 18-round tubular magazine, capable of firing both buck shot and plasma slugs. (Felix favors the slugs for accuracy and stopping power.) Felix affectionately refers to his EPR-57 as "the Bastard."
Misc items : His father's JCA dog tags, and his machete, the blade of which has been carbonized to prevent glare shining off of it.
Role: Security Officer
Bio: Felix is the eldest son of Matthew Leone, an ex-JCA infantry officer. While initially vastly supportive of the JCA, Felix grew an unrivaled hatred for the organization when his father was unjustly court-martialed and dishonorably discharged as a result of a mistake made by one the higher-ups. His father, a veteran of the Great War, had taken the time to teach the JCA's special CQC techniques to him, resulting in a very strong, loyal bond between father and son.
As a result, whenever someone works with Felix for a long enough time, he forms a bond with them, whether they like it or not, and he will defend to the death said someone. He is intensely loyal, but not to a fault. If his commander is doing something he doesn't approve of, he'll either bring up his discontent, or just leave. A trait which has actually saved his life more than once, backing out of an especially shady contract is a skill all veteran mercs learn sooner or later, but Felix has an uncanny knack for it.
After the success of the past few contracts, he has decided to try to take advantage of his winning streak by taking on bigger and more elaborate contracts.
Name : Marcus Blank
Age : 37
Race: Human
Gender : Male
Appearance: : Marcus Blank was never the best looking human growing up. The years have not changed things for the better as he's still got a head too big for his face and a naturally sneering mouth. A large, puckered scar running along the left side of his pale, bald head makes his appearance even more unfortunate.
Marcus Blank is a short, skinny man of about 5'5 whose diminuitive stature belies a strength that many do not realise until it's too late.
Faction : Kurast Dominion
Homeplanet: The small G-class desert planet of Tigrinya. Due to the supremely hot and dry climate of Tigrinya, few humans actually choose to inhabit the planet. The poorest families who cannot afford to get away often take up nomadic lives, constantly moving with the winds to avoid the worst of the lethal sandstorms. Although humans struggle to live comfortably on this planet, there are a surprising number of wild alien species that have adapted perfectly to the adverse conditions. One such species includes the immensely hairy Tigrin yak, a common animal bred as livestock by the nomadic, indigenous peoples.
Weapons: Blank favours a high-powered Tigrin hunting crossbow. Bolts made from a near untarnishable alloy can puncture most standard-made armours. Inbuilt plasma technology can also heat bolts up to extreme temperatures, increasing piercing capabilities. This does, however, require a hefty cool-down time before the crossbow can be fired safely again. Although the crossbow is almost silent normally, when the inbuilt plasma is heatig the bolt, a roaring can heard, as if a giant furnace is blazing.
An old, desert-worn hunting knife treasured by Blank accompanies the silenced GTC-4 .25 automatic pistol and quiver of crossbow bolts at his belt.
Misc items : As well as a pair of desert goggles draped around his neck, Blank wears a Tigrin jacket lined with yak-fur over his light armour. Something that has always baffled Tigrinya inhabitants is the natural temperature regulation that the yak fur seems to posses. In extreme cold, it keeps the wearer warm, but in extreme heat it keeps the wearer comfortably cool.
Blank also keeps a small hourglass filled with Tigrin sand; with a cord tied onto it, Blank wears the hourglass around his neck, keeping his home planet close to his heart at all times.
Role : Scout
Bio : Marcus Blank never had a decent childhood. His boyhood years were spent wandering through the sandstorms of Tigrinya, tending the shaggy-haired yaks and hunting other desert species of the planet. Him and his family traded with ships that stopped in the surrounding areas, buying supplies with the best of Tigrin yak coats and milk instead of the proper currency.
At 18, Blank was taken (against his will) to Laegon, in the Vallarrim II sector to begin extensive training on military scouting techniques in order to enlist as a Dominion Scout. His natural - and exceptional - hunting and tracking abilities saw him get some of the highest grades since the Dominion's revival. He has since become a legend amongst Dominion Scouts, highly revered for his accuracy and ruthlessness with his trademark crossbow. Blank's unorthodox and very naturalistic style has earned him the title of 'Hunter' within the Dominion garrison.
However, Blank's professional success comes at great personal loss. A surly, enigmatic and often scary man, Blank has no friends and rarely speaks to others when not issuing an order or reporting to superiors. His anti-social nature is said to be a result of spending his first 18 years without anyone close but his parents, and from long occasions alone in the sandstorms. His ominous presence quite often puts his superiors on edge as well.
Blank is known for efficient covert operations, especially assassination, but has been rumoured to be a proficient interrogator, although many would simply call his methods pure torture.
At this point in time, Marcus Blank has taken some time off and travelled home to Tigrinya after hearing that both his parents were killed in an "unexpected sandstorm". Blank, however, is uncertain of the truth of this statement and intends to find out more.
He is currently sat in a tent, looking out across the desert plains while cleaning his crossbow.
Age : 37
Race: Human
Gender : Male
Appearance: : Marcus Blank was never the best looking human growing up. The years have not changed things for the better as he's still got a head too big for his face and a naturally sneering mouth. A large, puckered scar running along the left side of his pale, bald head makes his appearance even more unfortunate.
Marcus Blank is a short, skinny man of about 5'5 whose diminuitive stature belies a strength that many do not realise until it's too late.
Faction : Kurast Dominion
Homeplanet: The small G-class desert planet of Tigrinya. Due to the supremely hot and dry climate of Tigrinya, few humans actually choose to inhabit the planet. The poorest families who cannot afford to get away often take up nomadic lives, constantly moving with the winds to avoid the worst of the lethal sandstorms. Although humans struggle to live comfortably on this planet, there are a surprising number of wild alien species that have adapted perfectly to the adverse conditions. One such species includes the immensely hairy Tigrin yak, a common animal bred as livestock by the nomadic, indigenous peoples.
Weapons: Blank favours a high-powered Tigrin hunting crossbow. Bolts made from a near untarnishable alloy can puncture most standard-made armours. Inbuilt plasma technology can also heat bolts up to extreme temperatures, increasing piercing capabilities. This does, however, require a hefty cool-down time before the crossbow can be fired safely again. Although the crossbow is almost silent normally, when the inbuilt plasma is heatig the bolt, a roaring can heard, as if a giant furnace is blazing.
An old, desert-worn hunting knife treasured by Blank accompanies the silenced GTC-4 .25 automatic pistol and quiver of crossbow bolts at his belt.
Misc items : As well as a pair of desert goggles draped around his neck, Blank wears a Tigrin jacket lined with yak-fur over his light armour. Something that has always baffled Tigrinya inhabitants is the natural temperature regulation that the yak fur seems to posses. In extreme cold, it keeps the wearer warm, but in extreme heat it keeps the wearer comfortably cool.
Blank also keeps a small hourglass filled with Tigrin sand; with a cord tied onto it, Blank wears the hourglass around his neck, keeping his home planet close to his heart at all times.
Role : Scout
Bio : Marcus Blank never had a decent childhood. His boyhood years were spent wandering through the sandstorms of Tigrinya, tending the shaggy-haired yaks and hunting other desert species of the planet. Him and his family traded with ships that stopped in the surrounding areas, buying supplies with the best of Tigrin yak coats and milk instead of the proper currency.
At 18, Blank was taken (against his will) to Laegon, in the Vallarrim II sector to begin extensive training on military scouting techniques in order to enlist as a Dominion Scout. His natural - and exceptional - hunting and tracking abilities saw him get some of the highest grades since the Dominion's revival. He has since become a legend amongst Dominion Scouts, highly revered for his accuracy and ruthlessness with his trademark crossbow. Blank's unorthodox and very naturalistic style has earned him the title of 'Hunter' within the Dominion garrison.
However, Blank's professional success comes at great personal loss. A surly, enigmatic and often scary man, Blank has no friends and rarely speaks to others when not issuing an order or reporting to superiors. His anti-social nature is said to be a result of spending his first 18 years without anyone close but his parents, and from long occasions alone in the sandstorms. His ominous presence quite often puts his superiors on edge as well.
Blank is known for efficient covert operations, especially assassination, but has been rumoured to be a proficient interrogator, although many would simply call his methods pure torture.
At this point in time, Marcus Blank has taken some time off and travelled home to Tigrinya after hearing that both his parents were killed in an "unexpected sandstorm". Blank, however, is uncertain of the truth of this statement and intends to find out more.
He is currently sat in a tent, looking out across the desert plains while cleaning his crossbow.
Am I the only one who is being mightily put off by having aliens in this? To me they always feel silly. Firefly, EVE online and many others do fine without aliens...
Also, what sort of technology does humanity have? Are we confined to a single galaxy, ala Mass Effect or Star Wars, or just one solar system, ala Firefly, or can we just go anywhere the hell we want ala Star Trek?
Also, what sort of technology does humanity have? Are we confined to a single galaxy, ala Mass Effect or Star Wars, or just one solar system, ala Firefly, or can we just go anywhere the hell we want ala Star Trek?
Firefly is contained within one solar system? That isn't our system, surely, as there are multiple inhabitable worlds in that series. Am I imagining it, or is Earth seen in the Firefly series?The Hive Mind said:
As for the Aliens, I can see your point when it comes to grossly different species that will do ntohing but make role playing more difficult. But ultimately, 'Space Opera' and Science Fiction use Aliens alot. It is a typical convention of such a genre. Star Wars and Mass Effect both use them to varying mature and 'un-silly' extents.
Name: Tishman Crane
Age: 8 years, with only 5 years of subjective consciousness.
Physical Specs: The robot who has assumed the identity of Tishman Crane is based off a design from the later years of the last century, when there was a fashion for buying oneself an android copy. To the naked eye, it resembles the original Crane, and most of the time, has the same physical limitations. It is estimated to have roughly 1.3HS (Human Standard) strength and speed and approximately 1.1HS intelligence. As for mental resemblance, it's personality was constructed from a rather simple brainscan of Crane, giving the android a replica of his emotional disposition and mannerisms, and a record of his memories, though these are dissociated from it's personality core and apparently have missing areas.
For sustainment, the robot needs neither food or oxygen, but powers itself from a small fusion generator. It can eat, but simply stores the biological material for ejection. His body is also capable of taking far greater punishment; it can survive the loss of limbs, has a second AI core in case of decapitation. His senses are stronger, he can see the full electromagnetic spectrum and he possesses an internal coms unit. He is fully ambidextrous, and his joints are far more flexible. These upgrades have been added at his own request, before it signed for Kurast's armed forces.
Appearance: Tishman Crane stands 5'11? tall, and weighs 60 kilos. His hair is short, brown and slightly curled, and his face is lean, with strong cheekbones and sarcastic smile. He wears dark, simple clothes chosen for their practicality. he moves smoothly, and easily, even in the heavier gravities, and seems unphased by circumstance, be it the heat of a close sun or raging battle
Faction: Kurast Dominion
Homeplanet: The factory world of Vraxus, a G class desert planet in Vallarrim sector. Vraxus was colonised for it's rare metals, and was thriving as a factory world before the Sorren came, and when the Dominion formed, it came into it's own, helping to provide the required industry. Now, it's factories have blended with it's cities and now cover more than 40% of the landmass with artificial structures
Weapons: Tishman wields a ?Ravager?, a blended weapon given to the Sentinels most suicidally eager to engage the enemy. It consists of a medium range rifle capable of single shot fire only, with a chainsaw bayonet running the length of it's underside. The gun is lightweight and relatively inaccurate, but more than makes up it for the fact that the grip can be shifted to allow the Ravager to be wielded like a sword, where it's deadly potential is maximised.
Tishman also has built two K552 type blades directly into his forearms; they function in the same way but are hidden within his synthskin layer. These are stealth weapons to fall back on rather than utilised in combat.
Misc items: Tishman carries little in the way of luxury; he draws little pleasure from material objects. He does, however, carry a small memograph of his estranged wife, and the children he feels a paternal love for children
Role: Sentinel
Bio: The original Tishman Crane was a business man on Vraxus, but his actions hinted at something more sinister, for he would head off-planet for months at a time, alerting neither friends, nor authorities. At the time, nothing was suspected, but he had a robot built to replace him during the time he was away. Loaded with a simple copy of his personality, and built as his spitting image, the android blended in seamlessly. Over a number of years, Crane began to spend more and more time away, until one day, he never came back.
The android excelled itself; the designers had predicted it could last for two months maximum without being found, but it lasted two years until it was detected.
In the ensuing court case, the android argued well for it's cause, stating that it has so well represented its creator, furthered all his interests and has been accepted for so long by his friends and family that it deserves rights to the life he once owned. The judge was convinced, and allowed it the right to Crane's estates, identity and rights, but Crane's wife and children were horrified, and abandoned him.
Distraught, Tishman felt the need for a new meaning in life, and settled on fighting for the Dominion's survival. He had itself radically modified for combat purposes, and signed up for the Dominion's armed forces
Age: 8 years, with only 5 years of subjective consciousness.
Physical Specs: The robot who has assumed the identity of Tishman Crane is based off a design from the later years of the last century, when there was a fashion for buying oneself an android copy. To the naked eye, it resembles the original Crane, and most of the time, has the same physical limitations. It is estimated to have roughly 1.3HS (Human Standard) strength and speed and approximately 1.1HS intelligence. As for mental resemblance, it's personality was constructed from a rather simple brainscan of Crane, giving the android a replica of his emotional disposition and mannerisms, and a record of his memories, though these are dissociated from it's personality core and apparently have missing areas.
For sustainment, the robot needs neither food or oxygen, but powers itself from a small fusion generator. It can eat, but simply stores the biological material for ejection. His body is also capable of taking far greater punishment; it can survive the loss of limbs, has a second AI core in case of decapitation. His senses are stronger, he can see the full electromagnetic spectrum and he possesses an internal coms unit. He is fully ambidextrous, and his joints are far more flexible. These upgrades have been added at his own request, before it signed for Kurast's armed forces.
Appearance: Tishman Crane stands 5'11? tall, and weighs 60 kilos. His hair is short, brown and slightly curled, and his face is lean, with strong cheekbones and sarcastic smile. He wears dark, simple clothes chosen for their practicality. he moves smoothly, and easily, even in the heavier gravities, and seems unphased by circumstance, be it the heat of a close sun or raging battle
Faction: Kurast Dominion
Homeplanet: The factory world of Vraxus, a G class desert planet in Vallarrim sector. Vraxus was colonised for it's rare metals, and was thriving as a factory world before the Sorren came, and when the Dominion formed, it came into it's own, helping to provide the required industry. Now, it's factories have blended with it's cities and now cover more than 40% of the landmass with artificial structures
Weapons: Tishman wields a ?Ravager?, a blended weapon given to the Sentinels most suicidally eager to engage the enemy. It consists of a medium range rifle capable of single shot fire only, with a chainsaw bayonet running the length of it's underside. The gun is lightweight and relatively inaccurate, but more than makes up it for the fact that the grip can be shifted to allow the Ravager to be wielded like a sword, where it's deadly potential is maximised.
Tishman also has built two K552 type blades directly into his forearms; they function in the same way but are hidden within his synthskin layer. These are stealth weapons to fall back on rather than utilised in combat.
Misc items: Tishman carries little in the way of luxury; he draws little pleasure from material objects. He does, however, carry a small memograph of his estranged wife, and the children he feels a paternal love for children
Role: Sentinel
Bio: The original Tishman Crane was a business man on Vraxus, but his actions hinted at something more sinister, for he would head off-planet for months at a time, alerting neither friends, nor authorities. At the time, nothing was suspected, but he had a robot built to replace him during the time he was away. Loaded with a simple copy of his personality, and built as his spitting image, the android blended in seamlessly. Over a number of years, Crane began to spend more and more time away, until one day, he never came back.
The android excelled itself; the designers had predicted it could last for two months maximum without being found, but it lasted two years until it was detected.
In the ensuing court case, the android argued well for it's cause, stating that it has so well represented its creator, furthered all his interests and has been accepted for so long by his friends and family that it deserves rights to the life he once owned. The judge was convinced, and allowed it the right to Crane's estates, identity and rights, but Crane's wife and children were horrified, and abandoned him.
Distraught, Tishman felt the need for a new meaning in life, and settled on fighting for the Dominion's survival. He had itself radically modified for combat purposes, and signed up for the Dominion's armed forces