Babel Knights (Private)

[Hecatoncheires]

Babel City. The final bastion of human civilisation in a rapidly decaying world.

Babel City. A paradise for those fortunate enough to be born into money and influence. Existing within their fortified Enclaves and guarded by the remains of the world's security forces, the privileged live a life of luxury and contentment. The incredible technologies developed before mankind's decline and fall are still theirs to utilise and enjoy, from cybernetic augmentations indistinguishable from the ordinary human form to the last of the animal kingdom, sealed away in containment facilities for the amusement of onlookers.

Babel City. A lawless hellhole for the rest of humanity's remains. The masses who exist outside of the Enclaves do so in abject poverty, living in a vast landfill of favelas, high-rise apartment complexes and shanty towns known as the Sprawl. The Authorities rarely venture out into this region, leaving the people to fend for themselves. Those fortunate enough to even have a job work crushing hours in the factories of the corporations, churning out products they will likely never have a chance to use. The rest are left to find alternate means of survival, and as crime rises the life expectancy plummets.

Babel City. A demilitarised zone still reeling from the effects of a failed uprising fifty years before. Faced with the enraged masses at their gates the authorities issued a shutdown on all modern firearms technology, crippling the revolution and allowing them to drive the masses back from the Enclaves. Setting up a vast, invasive security network capable of detecting any discharging of firearms, the Authorities are now the only ones with access to guns.

Babel City. An urban land-mass that has fallen back on the weapons of old. Thugs and gangsters on the sidewalks pack hatchets and knives instead of handguns. Roaming biker gangs are armed with swords, lances and shields. Assassin clans train orphans in the arts of murder inside seemingly abandoned building complexes. Martial arts are widely utilised as everyone struggles to find a means to defend themselves that will not bring down the wrath of the Authorities.

Babel City. The final bastion of human civilisation. A paradise for the haves, a lawless hellhole for the have-nots. And even without access to firearms, a place of chaos and violence.

For one can never underestimate humanity's capacity for self-destruction...

[[--AKASHI CORP SECURE MESSENGER, VERSION 1.01--]]
[[--SCRAMBLING CONNECTION--]]
[[--LOGGING IN TO SECURE CHANNEL--]]
[[--CONNECTION ESTABLISHED--]]​

[--SENDER: "7"--]
[--SUBJECT: ASSIGNMENT--]

Hello, my friend. I trust this message finds you well. A situation has arisen, and I find myself in need of your capacity for violence once again.

Two days ago, an apartment complex in the city found itself in the unenviable position of becoming the latest target of a group of armed bikers. They are known as the Obsidian 88. Does that name ring a few bells? Because that would not surprise me; they are one of the most vicious, unpredictable and dangerous gangs currently operating in the city, each member a killer without mercy or remorse. They are led by a masked psychotic known only as the Black Knight, a towering brute of a man who has never been beaten in combat. Left to their own devices, Obsidian 88 will tear through apartment complex B13, drive the residents from their homes and slaughter any who get in their way.

I want you to stop them.

Do not misunderstand me. You are a dangerous individual in your own right; an expert in combat, a tried-and-tested warrior. But against 88 madmen on motorcycles? Even you have your limits. That is why I am not sending you alone: you shall be taking the fight to Obsidian 88 alongside seven other fighters. Each of them possesses considerable skill in the art of combat, be it swords, unarmed fighting, axes, the bow, the list goes on.

Alone, you do not stand a chance. Together, you can turn the tide.

This will not be an easy task. You will be outnumbered, without re-supplies or reinforcements. Cut off from the rest of the city, you will have only yourselves, the residents of B13 and each other to rely upon. But with the right preparations, the few can triumph over the many. The history of this city will attest to that.

Make your preparations, and be ready to fight to the last.

I wish you the best of luck, my friend.

-- 7

[[--CONNECTION TERMINATED--]]​

'Babel Knights' is cyberpunk interwoven with martial arts movies, westerns, and wuxia stories. Set in a not too distant future in which Earth has decayed and the last remains of humanity live in a vast, multi-ethnic sprawl called Babel City, it is a story of a group of heroes assembled by a mysterious benefactor to help defend a poor apartment complex from a gang of marauding thugs. I'm aiming for a short, focused game, setting the tone and helping to introduce a wider setting that may be used in future RPs.

Because of the firearms ban in place in the city, brutally enforced by the Authorities who fear another uprising by the vast underclass, people have returned to old means of violence. This gives the setting a different feel from most cyberpunk stories; street-samurai are exactly what they say on the tin, gangs settle their disputes with vicious unarmed combat, and what ranged capabilities people have are limited to archery. Common cyberpunk motifs are still present: cybernetics are available and some do sport them, though the augmentations of the Sprawl are big, obvious and bulky, though they are extremely reliable and pack quite a punch. Wireless connections and augmented reality overlays are also commonplace in Babel City, and less common are the hackers who know how to exploit such systems.

Bringing in some of the more wuxia/Seven Samurai-esque elements, the protagonists are highly skilled and dangerous fighters, each a master of combat in their own right. Eastern martial arts are always an obvious choice (everything from Japanese forms such as Shotokan, China's many styles of Wushu to Thailand's Muay Thai), though please don't feel limited to them. Babel City is a multi-cultural sprawl inhabited by people from across the globe, and the forms of combat practised by the residents reflect this. Perhaps your character is particularly skilled at using a broadsword in a medieval European style, or a short sword and shield using the methods of the Roman army. Use your imagination.

Character Template

In addition to the character sheet, please provide an image of your character to help other players create a better mental image of who they are and what-not. I'm willing to wave the usual "NO ANIMU IMAGES" rule I tend to go by because of the nature of this game (SHOWER ME WITH PRAISE FOR MY BENEVOLANCE), so long as no-one rolls up in here with some bug-eyed creature with a waist the size of a fucking thumb-tack. That will make me rage.

Name: [[By what name does your character go by? This can be a full name (eg. 'Martin Graves') or an alias of some kind.]]
Gender: [[Dude? Dudette? Vegetable monster?]]
Age: [[How old is your character?]]
Role: [[In a few words, please summarise the role your foresee your character playing in this RP. 'The stoic, experienced mentor-figure', 'the aggressive hot-shot', 'the former assassin with a heart of gold'. That sort of thing, just to help give the flavour for your character.]]

Appearance: [[Whilst an image is also required, please provide a description of how your character looks. How do they carry themselves? How do they sound? What sort of clothes to they tend to dress in?]]
Combat Skills: [[Violence and combat play a heavy focus in this RP, and your character's aptitude for both is why 7 selected you for the job. What manner of combat skills does your character possess? What martial arts do they know? What weapons are they good at wielding?]]
Other Skills: [[Other hurting people, what is your character good at? Do they have any noteable talents that may prove useful?]]
Weaknesses: [[No-one's perfect, especially not in a cyberpunk setting. Where does your character fall short? Where are their abilities lacking?]]

Cybernetics: [[Has your character been outfitted with any augmentations or cyberware? What sort, and what do they allow the character to do? Bear in mind that the augmentations available to the inhabitants of the Sprawl are bulky and far less streamlined than what those who live within the Enclaves might have.]]
Weapons: [[What armaments does your character tend to carry with them, especially into situations where violence is likely to ensue? Is there anything special or unique about these weapons? Does your character have a history with them? Remember the lack of firearms in this setting, but also remember that this is cyberpunk; please do feel free to give your weapons a more futuristic twist.]]
Equipment: [[Aside from weapons, what else does your character tend to carry with them? Climbing equipment? Wrist-computer? Comm-link? Rope? It doesn't have to be exhaustive; just the most notable things your character has.]]

Motivation: [[In a dystopian future, no-one does something for free. Why has your character agreed to work for 7? Is he helping them track down someone? Do they owe him a debt of obligation for past assistance? Is he blackmailing them?]]
Outer Personality: [[What sort of demeanour does your character project out to the world? How would people who do not know them so well consider them to be? Are they cocky? Quiet? Detached?]]
Inner Personality: [[What sort of a person is your character actually? Behind the persona, behind the barriers, who are they really?]]

Backstory: [[Give a brief overview of how your character came to be where they are today. Where were they born? How did they learn their skills? Have they had any notable successes or terrible failures in their life so far?]]

 

[Tegan]

Reserved for the character that eludes all of your set expectations whilst simultaneously fulfilling them.


Welcome to the jungle, Grumpy.

 

[Asmodeus]

What's the ruling on explosives and crossbows?

I assume LAZORS and other pew pew shit is out of bounds.

 

[Blind Hemingway]

Are you looking to be quasi-realistic in terms of the tropes we use? Or do you mind a little mix of Mad Max?

 

[Hecatoncheires]

Explosives are generally frowned upon by the Authorities, but not as much as firearms. So you might be able to get away with them if you're good. Crossbows are totally a-okay. And you assume correct; if lasers or similar shenanigans do even exist in this setting, you won't see them outside the Enclaves.

Quasi-realistic is the aim, yesh, but a bit of Mad Max is alright.

EDIT: I have probably missed something somewhere. If you spot an error/missing section/gaping issue with the character template I threw together in an hour, please say.

 

[CosmicWeinerDog]

Name: Stumps. Actual name: Agnus McLafferty he doesn't let anyone but his friends call him that though. He also doesn't have any friends.

Gender: Beard with legs.

Age: 38

Role: Tank, Drunken fist master, Obnoxious substance abuser, over sized boy scout

Appearance: The first thing that you notice is he's large. Exceptionally large. The man was probably well into the six foot range before augmentation started using his body as a hack job. These days he stands just under seven feet with a build closer to that of a coke machine rather than that of a man. His eyes are always glazed over easily distracted, wandering about the room like a sparrow in a bird cage. The man constantly smells of whiskey, almost as if he'd bathed in it for weeks at a time. His clothes are tattered mess of holes, patches and shoddy stitch work. Looking closer at his oversized frame shows a different story. His right arm is heavily augmented and appears to be almost comically larger than his left (Which is still very much flesh). The robotic limb seems to have taken heavy damage over the years and is scratched and dented to all hell. Various pieces of street signs and other left behind metal has been bent, molded and welded into place in order to preserve the prosthetic's integrity. Giving a close look at the work though (If you were so inclined) reveals that the actual guts of the cyberware is actually top par. If he were to strip for you, you'd notice the prosthetic completely has replaced almost the entire length of his spine, hips and both legs. Whatever happened to the chummer was likely not pretty. He doesn't advertise any of these though, and despite looking like a vet from some manner of security combat tour, he's actually fairly nonviolent. Leaving conflicts to be started by other folk. When he looks at you and smiles, you can notice a missing tooth on the right side of his upper jaw.

Combat Skills: A drunken fist stylist of his own sort. Stumps uses his massive frame to "stumble" into his enemies. Dropping things as if by chance which provide obstacles, an unpurposeful backhand here and there. That sort of thing. The re enforced skeleton of the codger has made him unreal strong.

He also is incredibly versed in standard corporate and private security procedures

Other Skills: Drinking. Interesting story: In the rebuild of the character's body, one of the things that was had to be rebuilt was several organs in the man's abdomen. One of which that had to be completely replaced with a filter augment was the man's liver. The augment breaks down impurities to be processed by the remainder of the man's body and cyberware, while toxins that can't are boiled and converted to a gas which is then expelled through various vents along the spine. As a result, the man actually can not get drunk. The image is an act.

Door breaching: "I got it. *CRUNCH* Whoops, don't make these like they used to..."

Arm Wrestling: Duh.

Smoking like a chimney

Darts: Ironically enough, the man's a shark on the dart board. It's been used many a times before to pay the bills by unsuspecting victims. He's also quite good at throwing other things. Just has the eye for it... arm for it.

Sleeping through things most people probably would find it difficult to sleep through.

Jury rigging: The man's actually a fairly decent repairman. He just often doesn't have right tools at his disposal.

Streetwise

Basic socialite etiquette

Tracking and navigation of the sprawl

Some basic Animal ken, specifically in Rodents

Did I mention drinking?

Weaknesses: Well the most obvious factor is rather apparent. The man's seven feet tall. He can not sneak. He can't do it. You can pick him out in a crowd a mile away. You can smell him, you can hear him (as the augments make quite a bit of noise. Footsteps, floor creaking, servo joints in the shoulder, etc), and you're not missing him visually.
A less obvious reason is actually kind of silly. It's one he doesn't talk about often and it actually pisses him off quite vocally when it happens. Water. Yep. You heard it. Wet shit that conducts electricity. Some time after the man got cyberized, he had a rather intimate introduction with a collapsed roof. In the process though a large opening was ripped in the outer hull of the augment, exposing electrical components beneath the surface. Stumps has spent time doing a patch job of the limb using discarded steel and a welder, but there's only so much rigidity one can manage on a second hand basis to a fully functional limb without sacrificing mobility. When exposed to water, the limb short circuits and has to go through a lengthy reboot in order to sync to his bio frequency. He HATES the rain, and either outright refuses to travel in it, or doesn't leave without being bundled up in a ridiculous manner.

Cybernetics: Damn skippy. I've already gone into detail but the cyberware installed on his person is as follows:

Zodiac DXC45 Survo package with full spinal support: The prosthetic set's actual purpose is originally re purposed from a rigging exo skeleton and has been brilliantly refitted and engineered to serve as a replacement prosthetic functional off Phantom limb murmurs. It covers both legs, the man's arm, a large portion of his spine, and a plate that re enforces and connects the leg pair to the man's hips. Not being really designed as weapon systems, they lack additional features like blades, network interfaces or the like. Being re purposed from rigging however, where similar exoskeletons are used to move large amounts of heavy equipment, they can take quite the beating. While not good on the joints (They take a second to recover), he can use his lower body to vault himself a fair decent chunk of distance. Having no access to repair facilities however, he generally doesn't do this. Also so long as it's in a generally straight line, the legs can run fairly quick. Objects in motion tend to remain in motion however, and while he can be fast on his feet he is by no means graceful.

Weapons: Absolutely nothing. Stumps is a brawler, but what he uses in way of weapons, he improvises entirely from his environment. He does carry with him a bowie knife, but he generally tends to use it as a tool rather than a weapon as it looks "Too threatening".

Equipment: Not really anything in specific as much as a varied amount of seemingly random stuff. If he'd empty his pockets for you, you'd dismiss him as a drunken klepto (and you'd be half right).

Small propane torch (Torch, not cutter. the hand held one's that attach to the portable canister and used for varied odd jobs). He uses it to light his cigarettes. An act he finds to be amusing.

Bent up pack of cigarettes, mostly re purposed from half smoked remains left in ash trays.

Several balls of duct tape

four darts stolen from a random bar room dart board.

Bowie knife with a duct tape grip

small roll of parachord.

Glass bottle of pepper

light blue portable umbrella. It's comical to watch him huddle under it.

White poncho with duck graphics on it.

A pet Rat named Pavlov who's been trained to sound off in the face of explosive material. http://www.army.mil/article/84554/

Motivation: A ronin of sorts, Stumps is the product of a previous business relationship where he served as mechanic for the term leading to his cyberization and a body guard following it. For whatever reason, his suitor passed away in some manner or another and it left the big lug woefully unemployed. While he doesn't talk about it, background checks and a quick look into records reveals that the terms of the suitor's death was likely due to potential negligence of hired security. Between that, and smelling like whiskey excessively, it's next to impossible for the man to net employment through anything respectable. His pride keeps him from doing things that operate too outside his moral base. So it's extremely likely the man is very broke. If he gets to teach some gangers some manners in the process, all the better.

Outer Personality: From a casual observer, the man is an excessive drunk. He reeks of whiskey, he stumbles around, he breaks things, he gets tossed out of places (As it leads occasionally to a free tab). If you're drinking with him, he's your buddy. If you're not, he's probably still your buddy. Never spending his time on harsh words or insults, the man's dialog is generally rather care free. Jokes, finding humor in things that people don't laugh at, and the sort. He's the type of guy who take the time out to offer help to an old woman crossing a street every time. If he happened to get flipped off and told to get a job in the process by the woman, he'd probably respond by smiling to her and wishing her a nice day.

Inner Personality: A big lug with a heart of gold dealt a poor hand of cards that he's doing the best he can with. While he acts the part of the stupid drunkard, he's much more intelligent than he lets on and is incredibly perceptive. His eye for security procedures is impressive, he has quite a bit of streetwise to his name, and over the years he's picked up a few tips about conversing with socialites through proxy. Objects he apparently pockets due to kleptomania are tools he uses frequently for various applications in the field. While he does have the mental faculties to likely turn his life around and take on a new career, the death of his old suitor still hangs strongly in his memory. While in truth the man's death was not Agnus' fault, he holds himself responsible and perpetuates the image brought on by his facade.

Backstory: Angus is the product of a slum childhood and an abusive father who tended to drink too much, find himself in debt to various parties. During a large portion of his childhood, Stumps was often led to fend for himself as what little money his father did bring home often was spent on booze, women and failed get rich quick schemes. In one deal in particular the man managed to find himself in debt to a well to do socialite who spent a large portion of his time volunteering services to various sections of the sprawl. A kind man by the name of Bertram Kaynes. Soup kitchens, group homes, the sort. While the service did provide some relief by means of tax refunds, the man seem to enjoy a sense of philanthropy for reasons all his own. While Stumps never really learned the nature of his father's debt, looking into the event seem to lead to some manner of large scale property damage. Having no money to his name, the man clearly couldn't pay the fee and his lifestyle choices yielded little promise for potential capital as a person. Rather than subject the father to a debtor's prison, he took notice of the man's child and gave him an offer. A clear bill, in exchange for the man's son. The father took it as a stroke of luck and ditched the child to the hands of the socialite.

Bertram opted to put the child to work, but kept him close by. Seeing an opportunity to potentially give the child a chance to be brought up in a somewhat more decent environment. Not being any more of a delinquent than situations in the sprawl permitted, the child took well to work. Starting out doing yardwork, building maintenance and other various tasks around the socialite's home, he took well to his new environment and rather enjoyed the change of pace from the chaotic lifestyle in the sprawl.

As the boy grew into young adulthood, stumps took well to mechanics and the process of how things, most often than not, broke. Seeing the potential, Bertram placed the child in a machine shop and apprenticed him under another one of his servants who had come into the socialite's service likely a similar manner. Agnus took on to mechanics and fabrication like a fish to water and was soon capable mechanic all his own. It wasn't long before he was operating the machine shop independently.


Moving into his 20s, the still young man's life took a turn as his body was partially crushed in a large piece of machinery. Agnus was placed on life support and underwent several surgeries, replacing large portions of his body and repairing the organs assaulted in the event. While physical therapy took several years adapting his body to augmentation, Agnus' psychology was relatively unburdened by the event. Kaynes had entirely covered the bill chalking it up to maintaining a long running investment. Stumps, as some of the other help had taken to calling him, was simply happy to be in the service of a seemingly decent human being. A rarity in a chaotic world. As soon as the young mechanic was back on his feet, he offered to go right back to working the machine shop. Mister Kaynes had a better idea.

As the socialite was beginning to go up in years he was discovering that he was becoming more vulnerable as a target of opportunity. In his philanthropy, it wasn't uncommon for the man to leave the enclave and venture into the sprawl for his charity projects. While he never did this without security of some manner or another, he wanted someone who would be regular. Someone that wouldn't be questioned as far as loyalties went. Seeing as Agnus certainly looked the part now, it didn't take much to place two and two together.

Eight years was spent as private security for the socialite. Being the quiet muscle behind the scenes as Kaynes operated inside and out of both his business proceedings as well as his extra curricular activities. During this time Stumps learned ins and outs of being a body guard. What to look for, who to pick out, how to defend an escort, how to be a hard enough target that most people won't make attempts in the first place. Just like he had to the machine shop, he took well to the new job.

Despite several years of experience and a good eye for inconsistencies, there is only so much a person can prepare for however. During a routine inspection of one of Bertram's buildings in the sprawl, a car bomb was detonated in the nearby area which collapsed the small building on itself. Stumps' augments were designed for heavy loads and as a result he survived the collapse. Bertram was not as lucky. Digging his way from the rubble, Agnus pulled himself and the remains of his suitor from the wreckage.

Blamed for not being vigilant enough to save the man's life, Stumps was cast out of the service of the family and marked as a failure. In the years following, the over sized lug took to bars, dives, and anywhere else that the dredges of society tended to gather. It didn't take long for him to get pegged with the image of being a drunkard/bum. Seeing value in the facade, he only continued to fuel the fire.

"Who Pavlov? Naw he don' bite. Chummer's like a pussy cat. A big, mouthy, gross, drek loving pussy cat. Don' pay it much mind though. After all, what's a little rabies between friends right? *chuckle*"​

 

[CosmicWeinerDog]

I GOT THE BRAWLER ANGLE COVERED BRAH, BUT S'KEWL. WE CAN SMASH FACES WHILE HIGH FIVEING EACH OTHER WITH OUR FOREHEADS AND SHIT

 

[Hecatoncheires]

HEAD-FIVE.

 

[CosmicWeinerDog]

My duder need any changes grumps?

 

[Hecatoncheires]

The chain whip seems way, waaaaaaaaay more awesome, to be honest. You should go with that.

And change nothing, Cosmic. Stumps is perfect.

 

[Stacisaur]

{~WIP~}​

​

Name: Anastasia Bianchi is her full name. However, she goes by "Princess" when in public.​

Gender: A lady​

Age:Eighteen-years-young​

Role: The little trickster / The naive runaway / The glass cannon​

​

Appearance:

Princess

​

Princess often is found hiding behind her hair. The naturally copper -hued nest of messy curls are left down frequently, and only gathered up for dream time. The strands, or her body, hold no distinct smell to describe as her "natural aroma". However, this does make it easier to fade away into the background, or hide in the dark. Standing at 5'4'' with 114 pounds on her frame also lends to the stealth factor of her ways. She wears loose fitting, long collared blouses that flow behind her while in motion. Her legs are always covered by darker colored tights to keep warm and to move freely. One pair of well cushioned boots help to give her some more height and also muffle her steps. Her eyes are guarded behind a pair of seemingly ordinary black and green goggles. However, the accessory is actually built in with technology that helps her to detect motion in the darker parts of her environment. The color of Princess's eyes can be described plainly as 'hazel'. The girl was born with a birth defect that slightly altered the appearance of the iris, leaving them to cave in and out with detailed marks. They do not affect her eyesight, which is a wonderful fact for her. ​

​

Combat Skills: Princess may not look it, but she has a killer knack for knowing how to kick people right where it matters. The agility she possesses is her biggest strength in combat. Whether it be through dealing damage or evading it she can decide in an instant where to move her body and how to respond. Princess tends to look for opportunities that are more on the sneaky side. She would take the option of causing a man to become unconscious with an accurate twist of the neck over loudly banging around any day. When she is in an obvious brawl, however, repetitive kicks are her strong point while punches are a step below.​

When caught in a bind, she will do whatever it takes to get out of it. Wielding a pair of daggers that she keeps nestled between the layers of her boots, it is not beyond her to dive underneath a pair of legs just to stick them in an enemy's back. Other than these weapons, she is always open-minded to using her surroundings for an advantage in the heat of the moment. ​

Other Skills: A daily practitioner of yoga and meditation, Princess is extremely flexible. Her short height and light body helps with this, of course. Having endured classes upon classes of aerobics as a child has left her with the instinctive ability to climb buildings and somersault her way out of predicaments. With the assistance of her goggles, Princess may notice objects or bodies that are difficult to spot or may seem odd to society. Other than these points, her speed and stealth aspects have been mentioned. ​

Weaknesses: Being light isn't always a good thing. It is simple to lift Princess up into the air if one is actually able to catch her first. This also leads to the fact that she doesn't have the strongest punch in the crowd or attack in general. While repeating an action and being quick about it is a strength of hers, Princess will most likely never be found making that one strong, pain-dealing hit. Despite the nice amount of stamina she has, it is a fact that she has absolutely no armor covering her body. This can set a problem for her along the defensive line if she becomes faced with a problem.​

​

Cybernetics: The only sort of cybernetics Princess has are her goggles. When resting upon her nose, they allow her to see the world with a slight green tint. A detection system through the software in the goggles narrows down on people or items the user focuses in on. They also encase the sides of the eyes, blocking out extra light and giving a nice stretch on peripheral vision. As for where they came from, Princess doesn't always like to share that. She has had them for quite some time now and thinks of them as her main pair of eyeballs.​

Weapons: A pair of average, though sharp, daggers are carried around in her boots at all times. The blades shine a silver gleam and have a slight curve to them. There are a few marks on the sides of the blades, but they stay nice and put away in holsters on the inner material of the boots. The handles are black and have the initials P.L. on the right side of each. ​

Equipment: Princess tries to travel light. What she does have with her consists of the following:​

- A lighter​

- A sterling silver circular locket with a photo inside​

- Five band-aids​

- A paperclip​

- A bag of gummy worms​

- A hairtie​

​

Motivation: The reason behind Princess accepting the task dealt out by 7 is to feel certified as one with the people of the slums. It has exhausted the girl to be constantly sneaking away from her name and her family in the Enclaves. Her spite towards the life of the rich and laziness of being able to survive on one's own motivates her alone. She is done with being a debutante. Even though the thrills and dangers are invisible to her, Princess wants a new life, and a new name. This seems to be her chance at achieving those aspirations.​

Outer Personality: If compared to anything, Princess would reflect the ways of a constant breeze, spontaneously picking up wind and switching directions. By her appearance and her light, soft voice she takes the common impression of being flighty and oblivious to all that is around her. She is the kind of individual to smile a lot, since she has the hardest time hiding it. Being a relatively new face to the world beyond the one her upper-class family has brought her up in, her features are still "soft". The same goes with her expressions and general aura. ​

Inner Personality: On the inside, Princess holds down plenty of overall angst against her former lifestyle. She greatly dislikes her parents and their minds that function off money and luxury alone. A sad child is kept within her heart, causing her to cry alone once in a while. When thinking back to her late companion, memories fill her mind and kind of bring her to a daydream-like state. She has taught herself to snap back into focus, though. She can't be sad all the time.​

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Backstory: [[Give a brief overview of how your character came to be where they are today. Where were they born? How did they learn their skills? Have they had any notable successes or terrible failures in their life so far?]]​

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[Asmodeus]

Name: Hamelin

Gender: Blueberry Muffin
Age: 34
Role: The Face Man

Appearance: Slender, almost elfin, Hamelin is the love-child of Richard E Grant and Rutger Hauer, at once charming and menacing in that delightful combination that makes you pay attention, even if you're not going to do a thing he says. His eyes are his best quality, luminous above the dark collar of his suit. His voice has that rasping electricity of an actor making mischief. Yet his bearing is one of contradictory containment, a posture almost butleresque.

Combat Skills: Hamelin has a basic grounding in Lau Gar Kung Fu, but has taken a severe tangent that focuses purely on the artistic forms of fluidity and movement. His combat style is one of pure deflection. He uses an opponent's momentum against them, turning or deflecting their power and offering little in the way of counter-attack.

Other Skills: Hamelin is wealthy, has many contacts on his extended payroll, and knows how to place the right call to the right person.

Weaknesses: Zero offensive skills, low stamina, low pain threshold.

Cybernetics: Beneath his cowl-like collar, Hamelin has a completely artificial lower jaw with holographic and cyber-carapacial projectors. The mimetic technology is high-end, as befits his birthright as an Enclave heir. The augmentation allows him to construct a choice of seven facial settings that maximize his social intention.

Weapons: Hamelin wears a series of connected ringlets on his wrists, forearms, elbows and biceps. They are pneumatically-charged, with optional solar cells, and work to generate a magnetic field. The effect is slight. It exaggerates the body's own magnetic field and lends greater fluidity to his blocks. One might describe it as slippery arms. An opponent's blows are more likely to skim away from him, while someone charging at full momentum might skid by with only a brush against his body.

Equipment: The rings also help power his digital uplink. By placing his hand on any smooth plane-like surface, Hamelin can connect to the phone lines and public bank network, working off his own profile. (Like how they did it in the remake of Total Recall). He can also run limited searches. This does not give him any kind of 'hacker' ability. It merely allows him to access the net providing he is charged and there is a sufficient platform to act as a monitor.

Motivation: Hamelin detests chaos and barbarity. He believes that all things, even revolution, should be controlled and orchestrated. The city is a symphony and the lawless bad notes. 7 is a long-standing business partner who aids him in the quest to keep Babel in clockwork motion, and Hamelin will return every favour and uphold every deal with an oft-psychotic fidelity.

Outer Personality: Hamelin knows that money is the greatest motivator. He believes in the power of the group and not the individual. Pay a man a million dollars and you might get one assassination. Pay 100 men 100 dollars each, and you can start a revolution. He is a realist in interaction, yet has the poetry of an idealist. Dextrous in word and witty in execution, a stranger might think him an out-of-work actor leaping at every chance for the dramatic. A few centuries ago he would not have been out of place among the cockney rogues of old London.

Inner Personality: Hamelin seeks in life to prove the utter inverse of his father's beliefs. His late father was a titan of dynasty and nepotism, a man who kept the rich rich and the powerful singular, instructing Hamelin, always, to pay attention to the key players in any game. After a homosexual encounter his father disowned him, and from there Hamelin's rebellion became the all-embracing fuel of his existence. He seeks to prove, beyond any doubt, that a crowd of common men and women can trump any handful elite. He is a demagogue and a rabble-rouser, who longs to smear the bootprints of the plebian horde across his father's headstone.

Backstory: Hamelin Roujac was the only son of construction tycoon Finneas Roujac, an upper-middle industrialist who never quite got to where he wanted in the pecking order of the Enclaves. Though boasting a masonic bloodline and a signature on many of the finer landmarks of the Enclaves, Finneas never had the social wit to achieve true political power. He was more of a grey bureaucrat than a mover of nations. His wife, Tiffany, was the social butterfly, yet she never had much interest in politics and ran off with a painter in the Sprawl long before she could give her husband any kind of leg-up. All she left behind was a pair of shoes and a little spark of her winning charisma in the boy Hamelin. Ill-equipped to handle single fatherhood, Finneas fell back on strict expectations and talk of traditions to instruct the boy, but Hamelin had too much fire to swallow such bilge. He became a playboy and a tear-away, using every chance he could to run rings around his father. And even in his recklessness and homosexual scandal Hamelin achieved more recognition in social circles than Finneas had ever stumbled upon. A father's disappointment became an alpha male's resentment, and one starry night the two men came to blows in the penthouse. Finneas's heart gave out, but not before he pushed his son into a plasma disposal beam. Hamelin's lower face was burnt, and with it all love that might have made him weep for his father's passing.

And so the fortune of the Roujac Corporation fell to Hamelin and he dissolved the legacy in leaps and bounds. He used the money first to reconstruct his face, and second to buy shares in some of the best communication technology on the market. 10 years later, Hamelin runs the somewhat obscure company known as Volonte. It's purpose - the procurement and contracting of crowds. Whenever a politician needs to hire a band of supporters; whenever a company needs to stage a riot; whenever a clergyman wants to fill his pews for a TV broadcast, Hamelin is the one they call upon. He maintains extensive lists of people, segregated by key demographics, whose accounts are linked to his own. A few hundred dollars here or there and he can rustle up a tailor-made gathering of any prescription.

Pay one man a million dollars, and you can cause an outrage. Pay a thousand men a thousand dollars each, and you can topple nations.

Fuck you, Dad.

 

[CosmicWeinerDog]

Man.

Back in my RP server wow days, Hamlin was this douche of a paladin who mary sued up everything, was 10 feet tall, bullet proof and according to his own story could beat arthas in an arm wrestling match.

I'm going to be remembering that every single time I read that name.

 

[Hecatoncheires]

Everyone's characters look brilliant so far. Keep it up, chums.

We've got two characters who are heavily connected/former residents of the Enclaves, and one with some former ties to them as well. This isn't a problem, but I think we've got enough of a good thing on that front. There's all that Sprawl to explore and concoct; I've left things suitably vague in places to give you fine folks a bit of creative leeway with your origins and backstories (because I trust you all not to fuck things up).

NOW DISPENSE CHARACTER SHEETS, POSTHASTE.

 

[CoffeeCake]

Current plans involving either a poor-but-talented young Turk or a cog in the System who said, "Screw this; I'll start my own!" (and has been dealing with the harsh reality ever since). Also kicking around gangs-as-clans-or-martial-quasi-religious sects.

 

[Hecatoncheires]

All of which sound good, dude. I look forward to seeing what you come up with.

 

[CosmicWeinerDog]

I get the feeling this is going to have a Seven Samurai feel to it.

 

[Stacisaur]

yeeeeeeeea.
I'm having a super hard time figuring out what I want to do with this here back story.
I originally was thinking naive girl runs away from family who are oblivious to the life beyond their Enclaves. Buuut. Now I'm kinda thinking.. brief little life there.. and then orphanage.. somehow?
Lost Staci is lost.
I'm also travelling home tomorrow, so I can try to figure it out on my train ride, and finish it up when I'm home. That is if the pup and mama don't tackle me for time. ~

 

[Asmodeus]

You could always be born an orphan.

 

[Stacisaur]

- w-.....
That's....
That's true....