More background (now spoilered for quicker scrolling!)
Alliance Rehabilition Facility 03KG
Inmate 228F43: Ling, Sia Ann
Sia is very emotional, prone to outbursts when things go wrong. She is also accustomed to using a vocabulary that is unexpected, given her education level. Having graduated in the top five percent of her MedAcad, Sia demonstrated great aptitude in medicine, which she chose to leave behind to persue a romantic interest.
From conversation, she seems to have difficulty recalling if she chose to head Rimward, or if she was coerced. The speculations of the profiler are that she was not in control of her emotional state at the time, and that she was addicted to her lover's personality.
However, that liaison ended when the Unification war began. Sia started as a Lietenant in the Independent's MediCorps. Treating bullet wounds, shrapnel, and gas damage became her life. Then according to her, "my world ended."*
Her med station was targeted by an Alliance frigate, and nearly everyone was killed, including her superiors, leaving her with the grisly task of triaging her coworkers, as well as the troops still coming in for their own injuries.
She had just started working on a young man who probably didn't have 5 minutes left in the Verse, when she heard someone calling out her name. Putting it out of her mind, Sia kept operating. She still calls that the 'worst half hour of my life. I lost a patient, and the love of my life, all in the span of a hundred heartbeats.'
Which is when Alliance troops captured that portion of Serenity Valley. They continued to let Sia operate, but made it clear that the survivors would be processed as POWs. She also noted how most of her critical cases were Alliance troops, and many of her compatriots had been moved to a different list.
Co-Founding Member of LUTAS For all the less than useful superheroes out there.
Hugs and cake are available upon request. And when available.
lentrax, would you mind if my Scar character was one of the Alliance troops that captured the location your character was working at? You could end up in an interesting twist being the doctor that stitches my character up after getting badly wounded.
Is it just me, or are we shaping up for a Half-Alliance, Half-Browncoat crew?
@cgrela - just realised you made a pilot character too. I can tweak my character a bit and go more for the captain role so I'm not stepping on your toes if you like.
@Alpha - Can I buy a ship's cat? Or possibly parrot. I don't know, exactly, yet. I just like the idea of the pet being the only thing other than Jack to have survived two shipwrecks. There are some prices and stats in the Sixshooters and Spaceships supplement if you have it.
Some more fluff for Tie Yi to strengthen the submission. She has moved farther from pilot into the gearhead/e-head department.
Recruit Psychological Profile
Recruitment Division - Sihnon Department
Recruit: Lei Tie Yi
The recruit is well-suited to regimentation, and used to taking orders. She appears to comfortable operating a group, and forms a cohesive bond to any group she is a member of. Shipboard life from a young age has prepared her well to the reduced comforts available in a military life. Recruit displays a marked lack of knowledge on subjects outside of the strict necessities of life aboard a cargo vessel. Recruit is most comfortable when interacting with machines or using systems. She is, however, unusually optimistic regarding her overall life outlook.
Not Recommended: Infantry, Command, Research, Intelligence, Public Relations
Recommended: Logistics, Electronic Warfare, Engineering, Flight, Communications
Tie Yi keeps her hair long, but usually has it tied up. She prefers loose, comfortable clothing, and is usually dressed in either a mechanic's suit or combat boots, cargo pants, and a loose hoody. She is extremely fidgety, and never seems comfortable regardless of how she is sitting. Her quarters are usually a mess of spare parts, tools, and various fluids. She sleeps in a hammock above it all.
Edit: Haha, I was typing this up as you posted Aneurin. I'll move Tie Yi back towards a pilot then.
Sure. Jack will still be fairly pilot-ish, but I'll put more emphasis on leadership and captaincy. Or if you'd rather go Navvie/e-warfare I can stick as pilot.
Should I tweak the backstory so that the ship the crew has is the one that was crashed at Sturges? Wouldn't be hard to make that fit, and would explain why he's captain.
Actually, on that note, how will we handle ship generation when we come to it?
I've got enough concentration in my points that Tie Yi is fairly good at both piloting and e-war. She isn't naturally talented at piloting anymore, but she has been well trained. I'd say your sheet looks good as it is. Tie Yi can be primary pilot, but Jack can take over when e-war becomes a priority or there is something to repair, and he can be doing captainy things the rest of the time.
As for ship generation, I can do that. I have access to Six-Shooters and Spaceships. I like the ALST or the CL-54 for our ship.
@Alpha - Can I buy a ship's cat? Or possibly parrot. I don't know, exactly, yet. I just like the idea of the pet being the only thing other than Jack to have survived two shipwrecks. There are some prices and stats in the Sixshooters and Spaceships supplement if you have it.
As a lady in her fifties, Grace surely is a sight to behold. Her practical brown hands can work true wonders with seeds and soil - and she's not a bad cook, either. Vital and sun-tanned, mild-mannered and full of sweet serenity*, she serves as the calm and soul of the crew. She is pacifist to the point that she will not carry a weapon apart from maybe a protein fork at dinner time.
Grace obviously has had an eventful life and seems to enjoy a bit of peace and quiet as her years progress. You will often find her deep in thought, the cobweb of wrinkles on her weathered face distorted into a distant frown. But speak to her, and the wrinkles will form a warm smile instead, always ready to listen to your woes and worries, all the while those experienced hands are working away, giving care to living things.
Spoilery things the other crew members don't know:
Grace Willows was born on Shadow 52 years ago. From early age on, she was fascinated by all things living around her, and soon it became evident that Grace was a child prodigy. As soon as she had learned to read, she started to virtually teach herself the solutions to all the world’s secrets that intrigued her so. Barely out of the decrepit primary school the farming planet offered, she knew more about natural sciences than many grown-ups on her small world.
Her parents, who were fairly wealthy, finally faced the truth that their daughter had to be educated in earnest should she ever be able to gain a profession that truly suited her talents and wishes. With a heavy heart, they sent her off to the Core to enroll at the best school they could afford. Grace surprised with nearly full marks in the entrance examination’s science column but almost failed the expression and writing part. The school took her in and some years later, with top marks in earth and life sciences, she was sent on to university on Ariel.
Grace excelled at university, concentrating on the fields of biology and geology. After her degree, she enrolled in the research department of the Alliance-run university and became one of the leading botanists and experts for post-terraforming cultivation. Her doctoral thesis revolutioned the scientific approach of flora development. She undertook many journeys to terraforming facilities, witnessing herself the effects of her work. There still is no greater pleasure for Grace than to walk barefoot through grass or woodland that no-one’s foot seems to have touched yet. Nevertheless she also reveled in the expertly groomed parks of Ariel, and gardening - tending things growing - has remained her greatest passion ever since.
Grace had been working quite a time on a formula that would be able to genetically influence crop after it had already been planted (to make it more suited to a fast-changing environment) when her work turned out as something quite the opposite: The substance started to do horrible things to plants and animals, violently mutating them until they were no longer capable of living. Grace was horror-stricken and put a stop to any experiments, meaning to close the file forever, when the Alliance expressed interest into the substance - for military purposes.
Grace denied that there could be any strategic use for a biological weapon as devastating as this and quashed any more requests. Then Unification War broke loose, and Grace found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on her work. She eventually took unpaid leave and travelled to the Border planets, fleeing the War. She did not return to Shadow, although she stayed in contact with her parents who, despite their age, were moonlighting as active Browncoat supporters. But Grace couldn't bring herself to join the war against her former employers. Little did she know about the huge role she would nevertheless play in it.
Because in the meantime, a new inquiry from the Alliance reached Grace’s laboratory at the university, requesting disclosure of her work on the genetic crop serum. Without Grace being present, research documentary and testing samples were handed over without any delay.
The formula played an essential role in the devastation of Shadow and only when all was lost, Grace finally learned that it had been her work that had destroyed her home world. Until today, Grace has never been able to overcome the guilt and self-reproach of having destroyed a whole world and everything that lived on it - including her own family (she keeps forgetting that severe Alliance bombing is to blame there, too). Until today, she still has nightmares of the destruction of Shadow and her parents dying, putting the blame on her.
Grace never returned to the university. She had earned a considerable amount of cred while working in one of the Core’s leading research institutions, and now spent the biggest part of it to get any data on her career or research erased from the Cortex. The Alliance, of course, still owns an exhaustive file on her. They have been issuing frequent job offers in their military research labs, but, horrified, Grace has declined every single one of them. They keep sending headhunters and high-ranking scientist colleagues after her, trying to persuade her.
Grace has taken to a nomadic life, now and then settling in some god-forsaken spot on a planet of the Rim, packing up her things and moving on when they manage to spot her again. Quite involuntarily, she thus finds herself with an impressing list of contacts among the powerful, living off the dwindling rest of her ill-gotten earnings. Just now, Grace has again left the beloved planetary soil to try hiding aboard a ship - a moving target supposed to ensure her at least some peace of mind for the time being...
So, might we have a wee little bit of space on board for a hydroponic garden of sorts? (Up to now, I've planned about 4 gardening bunks' worth, but I can squeeze in a few more if need be.) Think of all the fresh food we could have! Well, sometimes at least.
Bessie the cow surely would approve... (Hmmm, can you use cow manure for fertilizer? Gotta google that...)
Jokes aside, I'd really like a cat onboard
"I wanted to see the universe,
so I stole a Time Lord
and I ran away..."
Background (Could contain spoilers, and is very, very lengthy)
Autobiography: An objective standpoint on my own 28 years
Some remark that I don't say much. Some remark that I am the way I am because I prefer the mystique, the air of sophistication and professionalism. Some remark that I like to play the mysterious stranger. If I could, I would disagree. I don't say much because I have lost the power of speech.
I was born this way. Mute, that is. My muteness began on the planet of Persephone. I was the child that no one wanted. My father was a business executive, and my mother did little aside from bearing his three children, of which I was the youngest and least expected. Despite their careful planning to conceive only two children, a male and a female, I slipped through the cracks in their scheme. My sister and brother were always preferred, twins. He went on to become my father's second, living in his shadow when I last saw my family. She went to MedAcad, at the time of writing I assume that she lives in luxury in the Central Planets. I was 17 when my family decided that I was no longer of use to them, despite my extensive private education in sciences, specifically in mechanics, engineering, and physics. They put out the son without a voice, and I had little to say on the matter. They were about as much family to me as those who next offered me a home: the Alliance Military.
They recognized that I had talent, and that a man captured by the enemy without a voice would offer very little information to the enemy. They made me feel useful, put my innate knowledge of machinery and engineering to use, repairing vehicles on the fly during the war.
Eventually, they attached me to a squad of soldiers, Spec Ops, led by a man named Colonel Marcus Chung. There were 6 of us in all, each of us with our own specialty. Captain, vehicles, infiltration, long-range elimination, assault, and heavy weapons. We were all highly trained, the men sent on missions that every other division of Alliance military were either too smart or too important to take. I only specifically identify Chung because he is the only one of the soldiers I served with who I blame for the atrocities we committed. I will no go into detail, to save those with weak stomachs, but I shudder to think about the innocent lives taken at the barrel of a gun by the six men of that squad.
I don't mean to insinuate that the Alliance is evil, you see. In the time I served, I also know that I put many very, very bad men into the ground. I believe that, were I fighting on the side of the Independents, I could say something very similar. During that war, we all did things that don't sit well with us, to this day. Some of us have things they're glad they didn't. In the end, that's what removed me from the Alliance military. One of our own was wounded, unable to go on. Young made the call, kill him rather than leave him to the Independents. No one would do it. He directed the command, to the coldest, calmest one of us. The silent mechanic. I wouldn't do it. Young kept yelling at me to do it, to kill him, to leave him for dead so we could retreat. In the end, the only bullet that was fired at one of our own that they came from his gun, the bullet entering my chest. The squad left as four from the field that day, two left for dead on the field. The other man died, bled out. I waited for the gunshots to subside, then left. I didn't know where I was going, except for out.
I hitched rides back to Persephone. It was firm ground, at least. I had no where else to run to. It was there that I discovered that I had been framed, then erased. I suppose I should explain. I don't care to elaborate on how I know the following, but I will share with you the essentials.
Upon return to his superiors, Chung detailed how I had betrayed them. How I had killed every member of the squad, Chung himself barely being able to shoot me down before fleeing for his life. To this day, I'm not sure how the Colonel killed off the rest of our squad. Officially, I was removed from the records, a ghost. I was a brand on Alliances Special Forces, so every record of my existence was snuffed out in the cover up. As far as the 'Verse is concerned, the Blake family had two children, twins. The third was a miscarriage, born a corpse. I am now the ghost, the leftover parts from a political cover up gone wrong.
Since then, my reality has been rather dull. I spent time working in various occupations, most notably in a bar, didn't find it to my liking. I suppose it would be more accurate to say that the patrons found that a man who didn't talk much was significantly less appealing then a flirtatious young woman in a low-cut top. Being frank, of course.
In response to my current state of unemployment, I have begun my search for work on freelance merchant vessels, no matter how unscrupulous their business may be. I am ready to get back to my craft and lot, however small and pitiful a lot is working, forever silent and thankless, among the machines. In many ways, I am like these machines that facilitate our lives: We are both silent and alone.
Save each other. I can hear them, whispering their problems in squeaks and whistles. And they can hear my voice, though it was lost before I was even born. They know that I will take care of them.
They know that we have to keep flying.
Personality and other fluffy stuff
Profile and World View: A short introduction to how I perceive myself and reality.
I would like to believe that this portion would be better written by someone, anyone, else so as to not sound opinionated, but in truth there are very few who can speak me better than the man himself. As a result, the rest of this log entry will be recorder in third person so as to simulate another intelligent being knowing that I did not die 28 years ago.
Morgan Blake is, by all standards, physically unremarkable. He stands just over 6 feet, weighing in slightly on the thin side, which is not uncommon for folk this far out in the verse. His hair is thick, ragged, and black, his bangs dipping past his forehead and the back reaching halfway down his neck, the sides covering his ears. Psychologically, Blake is a more unique individual. He demonstrates high academic prowess, despite his inability to speak, and has an IQ placing him in, at least, the top 5% of the population. He seems at least par in every respect, aside from being unable to speak, and several other small flaws in his character. Most notably, Blake has an overwhelming sense of pride in his work. Each piece he works on, be it an engine, a hovercraft, the man even signs with a symbol instead of a name. His symbolic mark is the Greek symbol Lambda, with two dots above the tip of the chevron. In addition, he has a characteristic bad attitude to those who poke fun at him, disgrace his crew mates and friends, or think that engineering is a job anyone could do. Once, he went to such an extreme as to shut the engine off on a ship with a crew that was particularly rude. Blake has a way of staring down such folks, boring into them, emotionless and calm under fire. He often answers questions about his identity, or lack there of, with such a stare and a shrug.
Morgan has an enigmatic wardrobe. It mainly consists of oil stained jeans and a set of solid color t-shirts, mainly green, black, and green. Several jackets are in his wardrobe, mainly for trips off the ship, most notably a long, brown, leather long coat. This article of clothing has caused a bit of confusion, being generally associated with the Independent army, despite his Alliance origins. He carries three guns, twin pistols that he affectionately calls Geisha and Shogun, and a sniper rifle that he has named Contingency. His prized possession is, however, a hovercraft with the words “The Desert Viper” emblazoned on the side in black paint, contrasting against the tan hovercraft. The “V” in Viper is flipped upside-down, making a Lambda.
Morgan Blake does not claim allegiance to anyone, except those who pay his very modest salary and himself. He views the Alliance as a former employer, and holds no grudge against them or the Independents.
In case you missed it, he's also a mute.
Thanks to Terry for my irate Nightmare Alchemist Avatar!
@Sunfall I'll allow the Superfriends in High Places trait. I have faith you'll role play it well.
@cgrela Thanks for the table!
@Unkabear Please do retool the sheet. I can't imagine you'll scrap the whole thing though, so it won't be a dealbreaker if you haven't finalized changes before I pick.
On that note, I had planned on leaving this open for a little while longer, but it looks like we already have more than enough for a crew, so I suppose I'll close this soon. Probably sometime this afternoon (EST). Then comes the fun/unfun part of picking/not picking. Thanks for all the submissions, everyone!
Due to rl commitment, I have trouble finishing up the sheet for the face/gunman (who's name I'm changing to Adrian Starr from Dane Starr by the way) today. The doctors sheet is finished, but I'm going for Adrian So we can all fit in on the crew and no one needs to be left out.
Although I would like to start as a passenger rather than employee if that's possible. It fits better with the background of the character
Wow... this exploded!
I was starting a pilot character, but that seems to be a popular choice (even the concept I had seems to be similar to someone else's), so I will roll up an alternate as well. I really like the backstory that I came up with, so I will keep a lot of it the same and simply just switch the "specialties" around.
Growing up so far from the core seemed to be somewhat of a blessing in Randall's upbringing. And while Athens was on the fringes of "civilized" space, it wasn't as backwater as most planets. For the most part, decent folk lived there... carving out a living in honest ways, earning a living out where the grip of the Alliance might be a little less... constraining than for some elsewheres.
What's more, when war broke out it seemed as though Athens might avoid gettin tangled up in the mess all together. That was until an underground base of operations was established in support of the Browncoats. Eventually, this lead to the Alliance bombing several of the major cities, in search of the hidden base. However, this only fueled support for the side of the rebellion, as civilian targets were hit just as hard as anything else. And that was when Randall became involved.
He was already a decent mule pilot, having been making runs for his family's farm to market since he was old enough to see over the dash. And with his eyes and his dreams being aimed at the stars since before even then, an opportunity to actually fly was just too good to pass up. Over the course of the war, Randall flew many mission in and out of Alliance space, piloting stolen transports and being the getaway on several covert operations.
But some things just ain't meant to be and when the smoke finally cleared, Randall didn't find himself standing on the shiny side of the coin. So now, he found himself without real employment and a mighty powerful itch to keep flying. Trouble is... the Alliance isn't too keen on so much allowing that. What's a boy from Athens to do?
Growing up so far from the core seemed to be somewhat of a blessing in Cole's upbringing. And while Athens was on the fringes of "civilized" space, it wasn't as backwater as most planets. For the most part, decent folk lived there... carving out a living in honest ways, earning a living out where the grip of the Alliance might be a little less... constraining than for some elsewheres.
What's more, when war broke out it seemed as though Athens might avoid gettin tangled up in the mess all together. That was until an underground base of operations was established in support of the Browncoats. Eventually, this lead to the Alliance bombing several of the major cities, in search of the hidden base. However, this only fueled support for the side of the rebellion, as civilian targets were hit just as hard as anything else. And that was when Cole became involved.
Cole had been scrappin and fightin his way through life since he was nothing but arms and legs. As for shootin, well... that was just a part of life living on a farm; and he was decent at it too. So when the opportunity came to make pay at it, he jumped at the chance without a second thought. And when guns and important cargo needed escortin, Cole found himself asked along as extra muscle. Sometimes this required a little bit of actin like someone he wasn't... which Cole took a little bit of twisted pleasure away from.
But some things just ain't meant to be and when the smoke finally cleared, Cole didn't find himself standing on the shiny side of the coin. So now, he found himself without real employment and a mighty powerful itch to shoot somethin. Trouble is... the Alliance isn't too keen on so much allowing that. What's a boy from Athens to do?
__________________ "There's a beast in every man, and it stirs when you put a sword in his hand."
Mah name is Stirling. But they call me 'Shooter', see? You can call me Shooter, too. Yessir, I'm a bona fide pistolero. A rough riding son of a gun! Betcha ten creds I can shoot your hat off your head without taking a hair. No? Well, anyways, I was born on Ezra, in Georgia system. Mah family used to own a lot of land up in them parts. Freeholders, as you like. But, you see, mah daddy had a bit of a temper and a bit of a problem with gamblin'. You could say he wasn't one for the crops, you could. So, uhh, a couple of years ago he pulled on some no good sumabitch up in Danesport. That no good sumabitch then killed mah daddy. Don't righly know if he was expecting me to catch up with him, but he seemed surprised enough when I put a few holes in his shirt. Too bad for him he was wearin' it, at the time.
To cut a long story short - and you gotta know, I really hate long stories - turns out that God damned fool was the second youngest Cleary brother. Just mah luck. On Ezra, you see, it's not wrong to kill the man who killed your daddy. But you better make damned sure who you're dancing the dance with, or things could get a lil' awkward. So, a week later momma gets a knock on the door, and this portly gentleman sits us all down and tells us we owe twenty grand for George Cleary. And he gives us two weeks to cough it up. You know how much our farm brought in every week? Thirty damn dollars. On my daddy's eternal soul, I ain't lyin'. Thirty dollars. What was I supposed to do? I told that gentleman exactly what the situation was, and he just shakes his head.
Then he gives us a your-money-or-your-life-and-farm type deal. If I didn't know it was going to bite me and mine squarely in the ass, and if momma wasn't givin' me the ol' stinkeye, I woulda' buried that horse's ass right then and there. Momma says I'm hot blooded, like daddy. I take that as a right compliment. Still, out of respect to her I tried to reason with the man. No go, he says. Fast-forward a bit, and we're sellin' the whole kit and kaboodle. All those God damned acres of good land. That land was in my family for three generations. You're damned right I was upset! Shoot, I confess I made a scene or two. And hell, we only got six grand. Six grand for a few lifetimes of work! Anyway, the fat sumabitch takes every penny and then tells me he gots a way to settle the rest of the account. I listen, 'cause I ain't got no choice in the matter.
Ma', my younger brother Mort and my little sister Jeanie get to stay in the Jameson compound, if I come to work for them. They was the employer of the Cleary brothers, you see. I work, they deduct a bit from the debt, and eventually everythin' would be okay. They'd even take care of the bad blood with the Clearys. So I tell 'em 'fine', and one thing leads to another, and I'm doin' all sorts of busywork for Henry Jameson. In those two years I learned a few things: how to shoot proper, how to find a man needs findin' and basic maths. You see, that debt was never going away, at the rate they was makin' it smaller.
It, uhh... It... took a while... to decide what to do about everythin'.
By the time I was done decidin', DAMNED fool that I am, momma and Jeanie was dead. Reaver raid. At least I know they died from fire and not... you know. Mort, I don't know about. God damn it... I don't know. I hope to the Almighty he died right.
After... after all that... I told Henry Jameson exactly what I thought of our deal. He told me there was no reneggin', so I shot him and James Cleary. Wasn't in the mood for their foolin', and momma wasn't around to give me the evil eye when I done wrong anymore. Right after that, I started runnin'. Haven't looked back since. Been bouncin' round the 'verse, lookin' for something steady. You hirin'?
If I was to describe mah self, I'd say about yay tall and built like a Fireburg after the harvest. Does that help? I don't know. Six foot tall, a hundred eighty odd pounds. Short brown hair, brown eyes. A couple of little scars on the face. Don't mind those, they're just for the ladies. Oh, and momma always said I have a right 'royal nose'. I don't know what that means, but I hope it's good. I surely do.
__________________ The secret of being a bore is to tell everything.
Alrighty! Gonna officially close this down to new interest, lest we get drowned in applicants.
Will go through the characters and hopefully come up with a crew before too long. Good luck to everyone!
If you're jonesing to flesh out your character even more (I know I sometimes am in these situations), feel free to answer some/all of these questions. It's not required, and answering can only have a positive impact on me. Credit to CosmicOccurence for giving me this idea in another recruitment thread.
1. What's your character's greatest accomplishment / fondest memory?
2. What's your character's worst nightmare?
3. What're your character's views on the other side, whichever side that is?
4. On a scale from 1 to genocide, how far would your character be willing to go to get what he/she wants?
5. On a scale from 1 to death, how much would your character be willing to sacrifice to protect his/her interests and/or the others?
6. Is there anyone in the 'Verse who wants your character dead? If so, who / what organization(s) / how badly?
7. What is your character working for? (Money, fame, adventure, survival, etc.)
Are you absolutely sure y'all couldn't take one more application, Alpha? I have a mostly-done character from a game with friends that died that I could rework slightly to have an application set up in a jiffy. His role would be that of Captain/Face, and I already have his backstory etc. written up from that previous game.