CROSSED - Nowhere To Run

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    T.S. Elliot was wrong.

    The world didn't end with a bang, but nor did it end with a whimper.

    Imagine, for a moment, the worst crimes against humanity. Picture the cruelest affronts to decency. Conjure your darkest nightmares… and then realise it could all be so much worse. When civilisation crumbles in one terrifying moment. When people are gleefully breaking into unthinkable acts of violence all around you. When your entire life is ripped apart and flung into an orgy of sadism and madness.

    That is what the disease brought about.

    The Crossed.


    How it began or why matters little these days. All anyone knows is the speed of infection, spread through human bodily fluids. There was no time to react, no time to prepare. It washed over society like a tidal wave, drowning all in it's path in a sea of crimson and gore. Cities became slaughterhouses, the madness spilling outwards to consume the rest of the globe. No-one was safe. No-one was immune.

    Those infected, marked by the cross-shaped rashes upon their faces, unleashed every fucked up action they'd ever conjured up, every dark urge held in check by the standards of society, every wish to defy decency and human compassion. They fell upon those who had not succumbed to the infection, torturing, mutilating, raping, delighting in the agony and terror they inflicted. And when the survivors fled into the night, they finished with their old playthings and went to find new ones.

    This is the state of our world now.


    Humanity is but an afterglow of what it once was, the population decimated by the spread of the infection, and the majority of those who remain carry the disease. These Crossed roam the ruins of society in packs, hunting the vestiges of humanity for their own amusement. We few who remain have survived by staying on the move, staying hidden.

    Some of us fled north, into the cold recesses of the world. A place where the cold thins out all but the most dangerous of the Crossed. Here we found what could quite possibly be one of the last safe havens left on the planet, just off the coast of Alaska.


    The Rig. An abandoned oil platform, designed to weather the brutal climate, cut off from the land and the madmen rampaging across it. It's here we've gone to ground, a ragged and traumatised band of people who have inexplicably survived the death of our civilisation. But we must always be watchful, and we can never drop our guard. For the Crossed still roam this world, relentless in their search for new toys to break.

    There's no help coming. No salvation. The cure is a myth, the infection ever-present.

    This is the way the world ends.

    To the sound of savage laughter and screaming.


    Humans are capable of some pretty depraved shit.

    You just need to watch a news report to find plenty of evidence attesting to the fact. Murderers, madmen, maniacs. People inflicting untold suffering on their fellow man just for kicks. When humanity fancies giving it a shot, they can make really good monsters.

    Now imagine an infection. An infection that spreads like wildfire, so fast the news reports don't even pick up on it. An infection spread through human bodily-fluids, that marks those who succumb to it with a cross-shaped rash across their faces.

    An infection which drives it's victims to commit the most heinous acts imaginable upon their fellow men.

    Such is the state of the world in Crossed, a comic series by veteran writer Garth Ennis.

    'Nowhere To Run' takes place roughly a year after the beginnings of the Crossed infection, and is set in the remote coasts of Alaska. The story follows a group of survivors who have taken refuge aboard one of the offshore oil rigs sitting out in the Cook Inlet, cut off and isolated from the rest of the world, the brutal weather and dangerous seas allowing them a modicum of security from the rampaging Crossed.

    But safety is a precarious thing that must be safe-guarded, and in a world populated by sadistic maniacs new threats are always arising.

    Welcome to the most fucked up apocalypse you could hope to imagine.

    'CROSSED: Nowhere To Run' is a Horror/Post-Apocalyptic story set in the world of Garth Ennis's Crossed series. The setting and titular antagonists are all it takes from this source material, however, so NO PRIOR KNOWLEDGE OF THE SERIES IS NEEDED if you want to get involved.

    The aim is to create a story that explores this particularly savage end of the world and the impact it will have on the mentalities of those who have managed to live through it. Just what have they lost since it all began? How much of themselves, their sanity, their humanity, have they been forced to give up in the name of living for just one more day?

    Important themes to this story are HORROR and ISOLATION. The cast have watched everything they've ever known fall apart, witnessed everyone they've ever loved die in the most brutal ways imaginable or else become a raving monster. There's a lot to explore with this, from depression to hopelessness, perhaps even the mad desire for revenge. Isolation comes into play with the location they're holed up in. The Rig, sitting in the midst of a dangerous sea and far from the coast, is what keeps them (vaguely) safe, but you try spending months in the same location and not going a bit cabin feverish.

    • Have fun. This is the golden rule.
    • Please aim to post at least ONCE A WEEK. This helps keep the game's momentum going and stops everyone's interest in the story from fizzling out. Real life naturally takes precedent, though: just let people know in the OOC that you won't be able to post.
    • If you've not posted in the game for over TWO WEEKS (without explaining why), your character may be killed if the story calls for it. The world of Crossed is an unforgiving place, after all.
    • Collaborative storytelling is the name of the game. Please do your level best to actively contribute to the unfolding tale at all points.
    • The GM has the final say-so on any issues or matters that may occur during the RP.
    • God-Moding, Micro-GMing and acting like an asshole to other players will result in your character being fed to the Crossed.
    • Be aware that THIS SHIT IS GOING TO GET FUCKED UP. The Crossed are not your garden-variety zombies. Sure they eat people, but that's mostly for kicks. They're also into torture, rape, extreme mutilation and generally inflicting as much suffering as possible upon anyone who falls victim to them. As such, this RP will go to some pretty dark places when they show up.
    • Please also keep in mind that this RP is not taking place inside the Mature Forums, however, so we're not going to be going to some of the depths the comics plunge to at points.
    • Loner badass-type characters are not welcome in this RP. No-one survives in this world unless they're capable of working together with others.
    • No, you cannot play a cop. No, you cannot play a soldier. These are the most dull, overused character archetypes in an apocalyptic game; try something new for a change, goddammit. >:[

    THE WORLD (open)

    Tl;dr? It's fucked, hombre.

    How the contagion began really is anyone's guess now. All that can be ascertained is that it happened fast. So fast that the governments of the planet could not react, that no warning could be given. The infected appeared like ghosts from a nightmare, dishing out mindless cruelty upon all in their path and spreading the contagion with each attack.

    Planes nose-dived from the skies, their captains cackling and singing the whole way down.

    Families tore each other apart in orgies of violence and sadism.

    Cities became charnel houses as the Crossed burned and butchered their way through them.

    Some last-ditch efforts by the leaders of the world were made. Nuclear weapons were let off in an attempt to contain the disease in some parts of the world, whilst in others special forces led teams to disable nuclear reactions and prevent further contamination of the globe. The reaction was uncoordinated, schizophrenic. The death throes of an imploding species.

    Those lucky or resourceful enough to survive the initial wave fled into the night. And soon the screaming died down, as did the laughter.

    And the Crossed began their hunt for fresh meat.

    A year has passed since the first outbreaks. Humanity is a shadow of what it once was. The vast majority of us are dead, either at the hands of the Crossed or because of the chaos that followed them: the few surviving humans are mostly all infected with the disease. Those few unfortunates who have survived this long are rare indeed, and have managed to keep themselves breathing either by keeping on the move of hiding very well.

    But every day is a threat. Every night a danger.

    For the surviving Crossed continue to chase them. And they will not stop until they are dead.

    THE CROSSED (open)

    Let's engage in a little thought experiment.

    Imagine for a moment that there's a filter in your head, a lock that keeps sealed away all the fucked up thoughts you conjure up on a daily basis. Your moral compass, your sense of common decency, compassion or what have you.

    Now imagine a virus that grabs that filter and hate-fucks it to death.

    Suddenly all those imagined cruelties and actions come flooding out, unadulterated and unchecked, and there's a nasty little gore-coated voice in the back of your head whispering “do it you cunt do it you cunt fucking do it” over and over and over again.

    Congratulations. Now you know what it is to be one of the Crossed.

    There are no golden rules when it comes to these monsters, no silver bullets or crucifixes. They are as many and varied as the people they once were. Some are suicidal, feral brutes, charging towards their intended victims with absolutely no regard for their own self-preservation. Some think mutilating their faces is great for kicks. Others still like to take it nice and slow with their prey, drag it out for as long as possible.

    Back in the early days of the outbreak the majority of Crossed were little more than feral maniacs utterly given over to the whisperings of the virus; in the twelve months since these infected have died out, their lack of self-control eventually overwhelming them. This means that there are fewer Crossed now, but don't start letting out a sigh of relief just yet; the remaining ones are the smarter, more cunning strain, the ones who know how to stalk and track their victims, to utilise tactics, traps and firearms.

    The nightmare is far from over. There is no end in sight.

    THE RIG (open)

    A triumph of modern engineering and human ingenuity located several miles off the coast of Alaska, the Talisong-Holland Platform (affectionately known to it's new residents as “The Rig” or “The Rust-Bucket”) once helped to provide the continental United States with it's excessive oil fix. When the first outbreaks occurred, however, it was abandoned by all but a few of it's crew (most of whom wanted to get back home in search of loved ones and friends). In the months that have followed, it's inaccessible location and inhospitable surroundings have kept it free from the rampages of the Crossed for the most part.

    To survivors, however, it is one of the last refuges remaining on the entire planet. Those foolhardy or desperate enough to brave the frozen regions of the Alaskan coastline and find the Rig will gain access to a bona-fide sanctuary. This place was designed to be fully self-sustaining for well over half a year; though that time has now passed and the platform is starting to show signs of deterioration, it is still a serviceable (albeit rusting) home amidst the chaos and upheaval of the outside world.


    Having survived an entire year since the Crossed infection began, the characters of this game are either extremely skilled or extremely lucky. Likely a combination of both. Along the way they've likely picked up a number of new skills (likely to do with staying alive, such as how to handle a firearm or how to remain hidden) and potentially found uses for old ones.

    Please provide an image of your character along with the standard character sheet. Please also note that the use of manga/anime images will result in your character being fed to the Crossed, and that POLICE OFFICER/MILITARY CHARACTERS ARE NOT ALLOWED IN THIS GAME. Seriously, pick something more interesting: everyone and their fucking dogs goes for that archetype of character in an apocalyptic RP.
    Name: The name of your character.
    Gender: Dude or Dudette?
    Age: How old is your character?
    Summary: A short, snappy line that summarises your character. What their role and remit is in a nutshell. "The haunted former high school teacher driven by grief", "the gallows humour-spouting teenager who's a crack shot with a rifle", that sort of thing. This helps to give other players a brief overview of who your character is and what they do.

    Description: A picture says a thousand words, sure, but who the fuck said you should stop at the 1k mark? Please provide any extra details about your character. How they walk, how they speak, any noticeable features or ticks.
    Strengths: These are the things your character is physically good at doing.
    Weaknesses: These are things your character physically WEAK at.

    Talents: Things your character is good at. This can be anything from cooking to first-aid and applied mathematics.
    Inabilities: Things your character is terrible at. For example, spelling or getting along with animals.
    Fears: Things your character is afraid of, has a phobia of, or even small events they don't want to happen. No, you can't just pick the Crossed. Everyone's scared of the Crossed.
    General Personality: This is the personality that the world sees. What people believe of your character. How the interact with other people.
    Inner Personality: The part of your character's personality that they don't like to reveal to others. Their true mental state.

    What You Did: Before the outbreak of the contagion, what was your character's life like? Where did they work? Whereabouts did they live, etc?
    What You Do Now: Twelve months into the outbreak, what role does your character fulfil aboard the Rig? What do others look to them concerning?
    How You Survived: Staying alive when the world collapses to the rampaging violence of sadistic maniacs is no small feat. How has your character come to find themselves at the Rig, and how long have they been there? What did they go through in order to reach this sanctuary?

    Skeleton Copypasta (open)


    [b]General Personality:[/b]
    [b]Inner Personality:[/b]

    [b]What You Did:[/b]
    [b]What You Do Now:[/b]
    [b]How You Survived:[/b]

    • Love Love x 1
  3. Name: Josh Coper
    Gender: Dude
    Age: 28
    Summary: The Rig's helicopter pilot, doing his best to keep the group together whilst grappling with his own personal grief.

    Description: Tall and gangly, Josh has the face of someone who's experienced far too much for a man of 28 years: a look that's all too common amongst the rare survivors of this day and age. He keeps his hair cropped short, his face as clean-shaven as possible, commonly seen when out in the bracing cold of the Alaskan coast in a heavy, fur-lined jacket and thick hiking trousers. You'll never catch him without a holstered pistol at his side, either. He has a tendency to check over his shoulders on a frequent basis, and there's a wary look to his eyes wherever he's gazing. The signs of an experienced survivor.
    • Apocalypse Exercise Regime – It may be just a sliver of a silver lining to a gargantuan black cloud, but these days Josh is in the best shape he's been in his entire life. Who'd have thought that spending months fighting for your life could get you exercising so frequently?
    • Marksman – Put a rifle in his hands, and chances are Josh can land a solid number of shots with it. He's also got a fair bit of experience and skill with handguns, though when it comes to heavier firepower such as military-grade weapons and automatics he's not nearly as practised.
    • Eye For Details – Sat in the pilot seat of a helicopter, you get used to seeing things from the eagle's view. Josh has a trained eye when it comes to spotting important details and distant hints that danger might be approaching.
    • Not A Close-Combatant – Should the Crossed ever manage to get so close to Josh that firearms become ineffective, he's in more than a little trouble. Though he can handle a throwdown in a bar and throw a half-decent sucker punch, when it comes to life-or-death encounters with the infected he has little to fall back upon.
    • Lacking Fast Reactions – Since everything went to hell, the difference between living another day and dying horribly can often come down to a split-second decision. Josh, however, lacks the ability to make snap judgements and calls: one day soon it's going to bite him in the ass.

    • Helicopter Pilot – Before the outbreak of the Crossed, Josh was employed as the Rig's on-site chopper pilot. Before that he worked a score of other pilot jobs up and down the Alaskan coastline, his career meaning he has a significant amount of experience piloting such a vehicle even in the adverse conditions of this state.
    • Amateur Weatherman – Satellite TV isn't really a thing anymore, what with society having crumbled, so knowing what the weather is going to be like a day from now isn't as simple as watching the hourly report these days. Fortunately Josh's career as a pilot has meant that he's received training in how to anticipate the weather's often unpredictable behaviour. A useful skill; you don't want to be stuck in a helicopter in the midst of a snow storm, after all.
    • Untrained Mechanic – Josh's skills lie in flying his helicopter: beyond basic patch-up jobs he is not capable of repairing it should it become damaged.
    Fears: Leaving the safety and security of the Rig fills Josh with a sense of dread every single time he does so. His thoughts always return back to that disastrous first journey back onto the mainland in the wake of the infection, and he is terrified of the possibility of the past repeating itself.
    General Personality: Friendly enough, if distant. Josh strikes others as a man with a lot of guards up, possibly even paranoid. Nevertheless, his role as the first contact many of the survivors have with the Rig means that he's been pushed into a fairly central role within the group, something that he's begrudgingly accepted.
    Inner Personality: Guilty. Ever, ever so guilty. You don't come back as the lone survivor of an entire group without feeling it. Adding to the guilt is the grief; whatever Josh saw during his first time on the mainland post-outbreak has affected him heavily.

    What You Did: On-site helicopter pilot for the oil rig. Officially he was in charge of both moving workers on and off the site, as well as any aerial search and rescue should it ever have become necessary. In reality, however, he was effectively just a glorified ferryman.
    What You Do Now: These days Josh is still flying his helicopter, only now the search and rescue aspect of his old job has come to the forefront; whenever a trip to the mainland becomes necessary (for supplies or intel on Crossed activity), he's the guy getting people to and from there. In addition, he's found himself tasked with helping to keep the burgeoning community aboard the Rig from falling apart.
    How You Survived: When the infection first began on the mainland, many of the workers stationed on the oil platform elected to return in search of friends of family.

    Of that group, Josh was the only one who made it back three months later.

    Since then, he's been returning to the mainland with other survivors in search of food and other necessary supplies, collecting what survivors they have encountered (at least the ones who were not hostile).
    #3 Childish Grumpino, Mar 17, 2014
    Last edited: Mar 20, 2014
  4. Something tells me you don't like cops and soldiers. I wonder what that could be? TBH I don't actually know that many people who do do cops and soldiers in any RP though. Either way count me reserved. Given the necessity for a picture and the necessity for it not to be anime it may take a while before I find one I like though.
  5. Nothing against them, it's just that when I've run these sorts of games in the past literally everyone shows up with some variation of soldier, special forces badass or police officer.

    In the interests of preserving my blood pressure, it seemed best just to encourage everyone to go for something else.

    And welcome to the game. We're not gonna be getting the IC up for a wee bit yet, so take your time with your character.
  6. OK then. I think that any use of firearm trained characters ruins it really though (assuming they were pretrained in use). Especially when you're trying to give access to character development.
  7. The folks who've managed to survive this long probably have some skill with the use of firearms (given that taking on the Crossed up close is a really, really bad fucking idea) or else are very lucky bastards indeed, but yeah: you don't want everyone to be headshot kings. Kinda kills the horror feel when all potential threats are shot to death within seconds of appearing.
  8. f6e00cfc027539f5.jpg
    Basic Info (open)

    Name: Jameson Powell
    Gender: Dude
    Age: 23
    Summary: One of the Rig's new resident entertainers, Jameson is just trying to survive and still use his skills to help the rest of the human race.

    Description: Jameson is a somewhat of an average looking fellow. A bit stocky from the lugging around of his musical equipment (brought or traded with other survivors.) and the extra help he offers residences. He wears UV lens glasses, over blue eyes. The entertainer generally wears clothing that allows for maneuverability (fitted athletic wear). And a winter hat, sweater/jacket , or some gloves, for when it's cold. On a day-to-day basis, he keeps a medium sized knife at his waist-line. This is mostly to help with anything that needs it, but it certainly big enough to take out a crazy.

    Strengths/Weakness (open)


    Voicework - He has been shown to have a knack for singing and doing spot-on impressions of others with a male voice. Female voices tend to be a big stretch for him.

    Nimble Fingers - Jameson has strong, steady hands. He was able to hone this to be able to play instruments and other things.

    "Average Guy" Weapon Proficiency - Jameson made sure to at least get familiar with non-military weapons. Anything from the baseball bat, to the hunting rifle, to the pistol has probably be practiced with. Of course, he seems to prefer a shotgun or his knife.


    Vision Impairment - He is nearsighted and has minor colorblindness. Wears glasses. to combat the issue.

    Stubbornness - Even if someone tells him that something is dangerous, he may still do it. Bulls can give up before he does.

    Talents/Fears (open)

    Entertainer- Jameson has be thoroughly trained in music and is naturally a people person. He can sing a song, tell a dirty joke, and even juggle. An act he was trying to perfect, and then the damn outbreak forced him to put that on hold, for the greater good. People were dieing, and he needed to do his part. And that is showing everyone a good time.


    Cooking - Just don't.
    Science - Anything that has to do with long names and chemicals tend to just fly over his head.


    Being eaten
    Being alone
    This world never going back to what is once was

    Personality (open)

    General Personality: Most see Jameson as a bit of a splendid oddity. This is most likely because he acts like there isn't an outbreak going on. He has a positive attitude and a good work ethic. Helpful and grateful, people tend to have good things to say about him.

    Inner Personality: Inside, he is who you see on the outside. The only real differences being that there are doubts that linger. Things that that bother him and keep the young man awake at night. But everyday, he puts on a brave face to fuel the flames of hope still left not to mention his own.

    What happened? (open)

    What You Did: Pre-Outbreak, Jameson was living near the New York/Pennsylvania border, in a tiny apartment. He hoped to forge and act that appeal to just about anyone. He would call himself Jester, but it wasn't given enough time to work or fail. In the mean time, he worked as a dishwasher and a local Italian resturant. Of course, it all went to shit, when the customers starting eating each other as opposed to their tortellini.

    What You Do Now: Now-a-days, he makes use of his stage talents to put on show every once in a while. Even off stage he tries to get a laugh or two out of passers by. Otherwise, he is employed to clean up after meals. Someone needs to make sure the silverware don't have blood on them.

    How You Survived: He thought it smart to take a car, with a full tank of gas, off a dead guy and just drive into Canada. Not the most well thought out plan, but he found a small hunting lodge that had weapons. For months, he lived and hunted in the wilderness. There was a radio to keep him company. He dared not attempt to contact anyone, for fear that the crazies would get him. Eventually, a family of four had found him and reluctantly he let them stay without much fuss. They told him about this rig out on the coast that they were traveling too. Of course, they still had a long ways to go but it was a worthwhile trip. As it turns out, the Crossed were on their tail and they had to get the fuck out of there. They ended up having to driving away while the father was being ripped to shreds by a chainsaw. Every so often, they would need to stop for gas...which was dangerous just doing that, let alone getting food. At an abandoned gas station, a bear trap claimed the life and head of their oldest son. The mother started going hysterical and wouldn't leave. A group of the crossed had wondered towards them and cut her and the youngest daughter down. Jameson took the car and drove away. That night he cried himself to sleep. A few days worth of stolen gas later, he ended up meeting Josh and ended up on the Rig.
    #8 Cerulean, Mar 18, 2014
    Last edited: Mar 20, 2014
    Name: Frank Higgins
    Gender: Male
    Age: 54
    Summary: Washed-out bum with a new lease on life.
    Description: Frank fills that weathered old man niche- Long, greying hair with a full white beard. Not many expressions tend to cross his face, as he is usually dulled by the painkillers that he abuses, glassing over his hazel eyes with an empty gaze that belies his poisoned roots.

    His apparel consists of several layers: A navy winter Carhartt jacket over denim coveralls and an off-white hooded sweatshirt. Beneath that is a flannel button-up that is kept tucked inside track pants. He favors two sets of socks and waterproof galoshes to keep his feet warm and dry.

    The old man's posture is poor, somewhat slouched and his gait is slow and ponderous, with no real need to go anywhere quickly unless facing danger. He favors his prosthetic, cradling it close to his body unless in use.

    • Unorthodox Brawler - Even before the outbreak, Frank had to defend what was his. He's no stranger to getting into fistfights or turning everyday objects into weapons and utilizing them.

    • Swiss 'Arm'y - Frank turns his disability into an advantage, having devised a number of attachments for various purposes that can fit on his prosthetic limb.
    • Necessary For Survival - When it comes to dispatching things that want to kill you, no doubt the quickest and often easiest way is to pop a bullet in them. Before he arrived on the rig, he got in lots of practice while safeguarding his life and the lives of others. As a result, Frank is an okay shot with small firearms, but he's no Clint Eastwood.

    • School of Hard Knocks - Frank's a tough bastard. He's been through a lot, even before the infection. It takes a little extra oomph to put him down, even if he's older than dirt. Years of time spent out on the streets has improved Frank's immune system against basic ailments like the common cold, food and alcohol poisoning, etc.

    • Smoker's lung - Cigarettes have ruined Frank's capacity for sustained strenuous activity such as long-distance running.
    • Withdrawals - Frank is often pained with need for prescription painkillers.
    • Trained Mechanic & Electrician - Frank's vocational school gave him an excellent education, enabling him to deal with mechanical and electrical problems in a large range of scenarios. As long as he can crack it open and discover the issue, he can fix it.
    • MacGuyver - Street-savvy ingenuity allows Frank to fix complicated things with outlandish solutions. Duct tape!
    • Inconspicuous - Spending a good portion of his life being ignored by his fellow man, Frank's gotten pretty good at moving around unnoticed.

    • Illiterate - Frank didn't need to know how to read or write when it came to replacing shorted circuits or turning a wrench. As a result, he's lacking in the literacy department.
    • Cripple - Any overly complex task requiring ambidextrous use of both hands is nigh impossible for Frank, given the fact that he only has one hand and a prosthetic. Two-handed weapons are a no go, such as rifles and the like.
    Fears: Thirty years a homeless man, not much phases Frank. He's come to grow attached to the meager populace though, so losing any of them is like the death of his own kin.

    General Personality: Frank is a man of few choice words, tending to keep to himself rather than loiter with the other survivors, as he often has a lot of work on his plate to keep everything running. However, he would gladly stop what he is doing if someone wanted to have a word or give a request, and often offers advice from his veritable experience in the world.

    Inner Personality: Being a simple man, there isn't much that Frank hides in his heart from others. He does struggle with his demons, though, mainly depression due in part to his addiction and the fact that he feels he shouldn't have survived when so many others, young and useful, lost their lives.

    What You Did: Frank was a general mechanic and electrician when he left his trade school over 30 years ago. He had a cushy job and a nice home, but a stroke of bad luck cost him the left hand. The doctors gave him a prosthetic and a heavy painkiller to deal with the phantom aches that quickly developed into a crippling addiction.

    Thanks to abusing said painkillers, he couldn't work properly and safely, so he was released from his job. Frank resorted to selling his possessions in order to get more, often illegally, and no one would hire a druggie. It got to the point where he lost his own home due to foreclosure, and so he spent the rest of his days on the streets - until the apocalypse came.

    What You Do Now: His main priority on the Rig is keeping everything in working condition, from refurbishing firearms to manning the generators.

    How You Survived: Frank had headed north from Washington state like many other survivors, traveling in a small group for safety. Despite his depression, he'd wanted to go out his own way, and he'd be damned if some psycho would decide his fate. They'd managed to make a go of things, but one by one, they were picked off, until it was just him.

    When he was rescued, Frank had trapped himself on the roof of a convenience store. He'd managed to barricade the fire escape with odds and ends, and it looked like it was going to be his land stand, until Josh had made a sweep overhead in his helicopter. They'd barely made off with their lives and had come close to crashing as a few of the Crossed had managed to attach themselves to the landing gear and attempted to murder them verily. However, they fought them off and made for the Rig ASAP.
    #9 Insidious Joe, Mar 18, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Mar 26, 2014
    • Like Like x 1
  10. Damn, Judge, I hope I don't look that bad at 54. xD
  11. Ceru raised a good point to me, given that my sheet is yet to be completed; of you're hankering for a decent hook for how your character wound up on the Rig, feel free to use Josh and his helicopter. Over the last year or so of the outbreak he's been making passes over to the mainland and has brought some of the people he's encountered back with him.
    • Like Like x 1
  12. @Cerulean Hahaha, don't do drugs!

    Anyway, how's that? If I need to revise anything, just let me know.
  13. Characters are looking good so far, chums. Cheers for the interest.

    Also, that's Josh finished up. Sorry for the wait on that one: had a shit-ton on this week.
    • Like Like x 1
  14. Name:
    Amelia Castle



    A casino blackjack dealer with a bachelor's degree in botany. Now the rig's gardener. She's also the go-to gambler; times to put some smiles on those dreary faces.

    Picture (open)

    Amelia is frail and petite, with long strawberry hair and pale skin. Some tiny freckles dot across her face, as well as her arms. She is underweight due to lack of proper nourishment, making it very easy to pick her up, fling her over your shoulder, or just throw her. There are three scars across her neck that resemble cat claws; she was once a loving pet owner.

    - If there is a plant species you can't identify, this is the girl to go to. She's wasted many years memorizing this shit.
    - She has a green thumb. Which means she can grow lots of delicious healthy food.
    - Amelia is gutsy, stealthy, and runs really fast. She's willing to be that one who creates a distraction, or she's a dependable scout.
    - Guns and knives don't scare her. She's willing to learn to use them, and she's handy with blades because she's carried one on her for years. Her step-father taught her how to use them effectively in a fight.

    - As dexterous and sneaky as she is, she's frail. She can't do any heavy lifting, or be expected to win in a challenge of strength.
    - Has cataleptic episodes due to narcolepsy, about 5 times a week. Times when she's experiencing intense emotion are the main trigger; laughing, crying, feeling terrified, etc. These sleep periods start out with slurred speech, weak knees, and a slacked jaw. She'll fall too the floor too, but gently because she's been dealing with this for years. Amelia will resume her conversations and usual chores as if nothing happened once she wakes back up. You can expect her to be out for no more than half a minute at a time, usually less. It's not a problem at all unless it happens while she's in a danger zone. In which case, she needs to be dragged to safety until she snaps out of it.
    - Don't put her on guard duty unless you're absolutely confident she won't fall asleep while she's guarding. So far she hasn't made such a mistake but you never know...

    Cooking, singing, sewing, fishing. She also knows sign language (if that is needed for some reason), and household chores take her only a few minutes at a time.

    Anything more difficult than algebra, drawing, operating a vehicle.

    Falling asleep in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her narcolepsy is actually what saved her because it allowed her husband to carry her away from the monsters who attacked them. However, in doing so, he had to sacrifice his own life. She blames herself for it, and wishes he left her there instead. Amelia has since felt like a burden and insists that people don't try to save her if it would get them killed.

    General Personality:
    Amelia is naturally a bubbly, optimistic, and affectionate person. She does her best to keep it that way so that the fellow survivors can have a friendly face to smile back at. Lia is supportive, too. If you're feeling sad you can weep on her shoulder; if your confidence is flimsy she will strengthen it with morale. It's advisable to not make her mad, though. She'll explode like a firecracker, then fall asleep, and resume exploding once she wakes back up. You won't get a word in edgewise. When she's out there helping slay the Crossed, she's aggressive and angry. You can actually see the thrill on her face when she kills them; it satisfies her desire for revenge.

    Inner Personality:
    Like everyone else, she's scared as hell. Amelia actually likes to kill them, but that doesn't mean she's not scared she might get eaten alive or worse. The guilt she feels for her husband's death is always haunting her while she sleeps. She's afraid that one of these days too, she'll stop being herself. Amelia has seen people become numb to all emotions because of the Crossed. It saddens her to the point of crying, sometimes.

    What You Did:
    Amelia worked as a blackjack dealer at a casino that doesn't have a memorable name. Even though she finished college, she had a hard time finding a job that would pay her better than the one she already had.

    What You Do Now:
    She's in charge of the garden. Anyone with questions or willingness to help with the plants should go to her. When there's time to play instead of work, she hosts some card games and uses trinkets as betting money. It's just for fun and makes people happy.

    How You Survived:
    When she came out of hiding, she was discovered sleeping in the back of a pickup truck with a big, ugly ass bruise on her head because she'd been attacked by someone. Her ability to sneak about undetected was what kept her alive; she is pretty sure she's just lucky too. As a blackjack dealer, she does hold some belief in luck. She didn't hesitate to travel with those who found her, even though a human being was who hurt and robbed her in the first place. With nothing but a deck of cards on her, she eventually boarded the helicopter that flew her to safety.
    #15 Fluffy, Mar 20, 2014
    Last edited: Mar 23, 2014
  15. Fluffy, we can totally take our talents on the road. =D
    • Like Like x 1
  16. Characters are looking great so far, chums. Thanks for getting involved.

    We'll give it a few more days to see if anyone else pitches up (couple folks have expressed interest but are crazy busy at the moment), and then I'll see about getting some sort of IC started.
    • Like Like x 2

    Name: Hoi Wei Wong
    Gender: Male
    Age: 27
    Summary: A general practice doctor who lost the majority of her right arm and is starting to hear voices in her head. Take that back. Just one voice.

    Description: Hoi lost the majority of her right arm during a car accident when the outbreak first started. All that remains is her upper forearm and the stump of her elbow. She doesn't bother to cut off the sleeves of any shirts or jackets she wears, merely pins the loose fabric on her shoulder with a safety pin or lets it hang as an ominous reminder of what she's lost. Normally the doctor is seen wearing a green parka with thermals underneath, black snow pants, and thick leather boots. Unfortunately with this being the only outfit she ever wears, they've become rather worn; the parka has been stitched up multiple times and her pants are starting to thin out from regular use.​

    Hoi exudes an aura of melancholy and regret.
    "Get away, I'm a doctor!"
    While she's not trained to be an emergency responder, Hoi is a doctor, albeit a general practice one. She can stitch up wounds, perform CPR and first aid, along with diagnosing simple and sometimes complicated ailments.

    "What's wrong? I'm here if you need me." Hoi is willing to listen everyone's problems and offer them some comfort in this dire and grim situation. Being a doctor and all, she's used to hearing about problems... Just not about humans getting infected and ripping each other to shreds.
    "I lost it in a car accident... Enough said."
    There's a plethora of problems resulting from the loss of an arm. Hoi is right handed, and is now learning how to use her left arm. Don't expect her writing to be legible. Also, any fire arm or weapon that requires her to use two hands is not usable. Hoi can shoot a pistol that has little recoil.

    "I made an oath when I became a doctor. I hate killing." She is reluctant to take a life, although she will fight to ensure her - and the others' - survival. However, expect her to hesitate if she has to shoot to kill.

    "... Monster." There's a voice in Hoi's head that reprimands, insults, and depresses her. The voice has been there for almost six months, but so far she has kept the problem to herself. The voice only says a few words to Hoi during the day, but she's worried that the voice will become more vocal and aggressive.


    Mathematics and Science:
    Becoming a doctor requires diligence and smarts. Hoi is skilled in physics, biology, and other medical sciences.

    Silver Tongued: Her kindness seems to lend something to her charisma. Hoi can persuade others with her compassion and sympathy, and at times, she can look rather intimidating with her stump of an arm.
    Getting Up:
    It's very difficult for Hoi to get up since she has one arm. She will request the assistance of others.

    Not Creative: Hoi is not a virtuoso. She is very logical and down to earth, but she does appreciate music. Just don't ask her to compose, paint, or write. She's absolutely terrible at it.
    "Please... Make the voice go away."
    It's a silent prayer, but Hoi desperately wants this voice to go away. Not having medication to quiet it makes Hoi more agitated.

    "I don't want to die. At least, not like the others..." Being a doctor helped Hoi come to terms with death... At least deaths involving things like car accidents, cancer, diabetes, or heart disease. If she were to die from these causes she wouldn't have too much of a problem with it. But this? Dear god, not this.

    General Personality:
    She is a bit melancholy, but can you really blame her? The world as they all knew it is gone... However she still retains her kindness, the compassion that drove her to be a doctor. When she's not forced to fight for her life, she is soft spoken and meek.
    Inner Personality:
    Turmoil. Doubt. Anger. Panic. The meekness she exudes is to cover up the emotions raging within her. Really she feels like kicking and screaming until God listens to her cries and returns things back to normal.


    What You Did:
    Hoi used to be a general practice doctor in Alaska, working close to the oil rig she now resides in. She went from seeing kids getting their required shots and prescribing antibiotics, to amputating limbs, stitching up wounds, and treating psychological disorders. She also went from being married and about to have children to well... Being a widow.

    What You Do Now:
    Well Hoi resides in the oil rig as the 'resident doctor.' She is charge of most medical needs, but she's constantly low on supplies...

    How You Survived:
    A combination of luck and grit. Hoi escaped the outbreak with her husband but lost him during the car accident; it took both him and her right arm. She stopped the bleeding by ripping off his clothes and using it as a make shift bandage. Hoi recovered in the car for several days before fleeing into the wilderness, wrench in hand. She sought small birds, bugs, and wild berries for sustenance before arriving at the oil rig.
    #18 Zen, Mar 23, 2014
    Last edited: Mar 27, 2014
  18. Are you thinking, what I am thinking? (probably not, I'm weird.)

    • Like Like x 2

    (A lot like this build, but of course without the red hair.)

    Christopher Desny

    Gender: Male

    Age: 32

    Summary: Christopher is the general Clint Eastwood of the Rig and resident sanitation expert.

    Description: Christopher is a fairly nondescript individual, sporting brown, close-cropped hair, dull blue eyes, and pale skin. He's not particularly tall, 5' 9” at most, but his limbs are long relative to the rest of his body, giving the illusion of extra height. His apparel generally consists of well-worn working boots, dark blue jeans, a white undershirt, and thick, faded flannel jackets. He has something of a weathered look to him, and everything about the way he carries himself is in a sort of 'brooding' manner. He's rarely sociable, and only speaks up when he can see a serious mistake in the process of being made.

    • Cut the Bullshit.” Frowned upon in general society, but more helpful in the decision-making process, Christopher disregards the emotional aspect of humans and focuses strictly on getting from point A to point B quickly and efficiently. This is not to say that he thinks for himself, but is less inclined to deliberate and make concessions that only add more variables to an otherwise simple task.

    • Keep going. I'm fine.” Christopher's life experience has made him more jaded with regards to death. After seeing so many bodies on the prep tables, he's come to terms with his own mortality and places less emphasis on his own personal safety, more concerned with getting the job done. If he has to lay his life on the line for the greater good, he has no qualms with doing so.

    • Death is a part of life.” Again with his generally jaded personality, he doesn't become emotionally compromised when he watches someone die, is forced to mercy kill individuals, or kills a Crossed. Death happens to everyone.

    • It ain't gonna bury itself.” With his background in embalming, he is well-versed in the procedures of sanitation and disposal of bodies. Proper protection against disease, bacteria, and so on are also second nature to him. General sanitation knowledge as well as a hand in waste disposal can be provided by Christopher.
    • Thanks, but no thanks.” Christopher is not a socialite, so emotional bonding with others proves to be a problem. He's easily a team player, but it might be more difficult for others to be a team player with him.

    • I guess I'm alright.” Embalmers generally don't have a lot of opportunities to train with firearms. Christopher knew it would behoove him to be able to defend himself, living in fairly cut-off territory, so he invested in an M1911 and a baseball bat and trained accordingly. More complicated weapons, such as rifles, sub-machine guns, chainsaws, swords, etc. are not his forte, and would require additional training.

    • Well, I can do this funny thing with my tongue... Christopher is excellent at blending in with a crowd, should this ability ever come in handy. He also has rudimental knowledge of military sign language and codes, as well as Morse, due to his enthusiastic interest in joining the Army Corps of Engineers in his youth.

    • Christopher has no glaring physical inabilities. Socially, he's not useful in terms of diplomacy or making individuals comfortable. Any specialized knowledge aside from sanitation, basic communication techniques, and corpse disposal are beyond him

    • Very little throws Christopher over the emotional edge. However, when the infection came, he was forced to hide in a closet and watch for over an hour as his brother was brutally, creatively tortured by a group of the Crossed. His brother was his only true confidant, and losing him, especially in that fashion, is a loss of a part of himself. It's easy to see how any mention of Joseph would force his balance on the knife-edge of emotion to tip.
    • Also the ocean. FUCK the ocean.

    General Personality:

    Christopher, plain and simple, is an introverted individual, a man of few words. He spends most of the time in his quarters or in the helicopter with Josh, whenever he's permitted. He speaks only when asked his thoughts on something or when he smells utter bullshit.

    Inner Personality:

    He is constantly at war with himself, constantly worried that the few precious words he utters are the wrong words. He's worried that he'll misstep one day and make a decision that'll get an innocent person severely harmed, or worse. He possesses enough wisdom to push these doubts to the back of his mind during critical periods of time, where his interior mirrors his exterior: cold, calculating, and deliberate.

    What You Did:

    He was a small-town embalmer, near Nashville, Tennessee, making a fairly decent living with his brother Joseph, the co-owner, manager, and head funeral director of Desny Embalming and Funeral Services.

    What You Do Now:

    Christopher does his best to keep the communal parts of the rig tidy and sanitary, as well as dispose of any corpses and other biohazardous waste. His fear of the Crossed is more instinctual than conscious, so he is generally a prime candidate for any forays into the Alaskan mainland.

    How You Survived:

    Tennessee is a long way from Alaska. Ending up on the Rig is the result of a year of hitched rides, close calls, and the occasional hop in an aircraft. The final leg of the journey was provided by an Alaskan fisherman that was flushed out of his property by a gang of Crossed individuals. Christopher ran into him on the way to town, gave him a ride to the marina, and realized that anywhere offshore was easily better than pounding the ground out here. The pair took his boat to the Rig where they now reside.
    #20 Mjr.Chaos, Mar 23, 2014
    Last edited: Mar 25, 2014
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