Singularity City [Recruiting]

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They are tiny baby hands

Or maybe cybernetic arms that split. Like Grievous in star wars
 
How would said character be able to even hide it? XD.
Trenchcoat. ;) Was thinking in this future there would be "Mod Fights" like an illegal fightclub, funded by mobs and gangs. My character gets the Locos to give her a second set of arms to be better in the fights. It works; she's almost invincible in the ring. But she gets swept up in the criminal activity of the gang, and being a glorified boxer isn't going to help her in this situation.
 
A trenchcoat won't be able to cover illegal arms all the time- The person would not be able to walk anywhere without it either. I think I'm going to say no to extra arms
 
Hm...How about just socket joints? She can borrow her android's arms for fights. Everybody gets one, right?

If still no then I'll either modify the idea to exclude the arms or go with a detective or something.
 
The problem is that the human mind isn't equipped for extra arms, even less 10 extra fingers. Espescially ones tacked on only a few years prior. She would be so entirely modified it'd be crazy, and still not capable to make any real use of them.
 
I'll mod the character then. Still want a fighter, even without the other arms.
 
Well. I point to the opening note. This isn't really a action RP. As in "Sure. Be a underground fighter, but don't expect to be able to run around punching people without getting shot dead." :D
 
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I don't. I want to play someone who originally has nothing to do with the bigger issues, but gets sucked into them. Of course she won't be able to fight her way out of any situation. When guns are involved, she should just run.
 
I understand this is a non-combat oriented roleplay. My example here would, naturally, not be the norm for Edwin. I imagine he would basically be here between jobs, placed more for information gathering and monitoring rather than serving as a loud assassin. I'm more draw toward the intellectual anyway.​
 
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I've now been reviewing what with my studies and the free time I've got to write up a proper character, and it looks like it's not gonna get done for some time. I'll likely not get something proper up until the 17th at the earliest.
I have been cooking up something, though. I was thinking a cyber-security expert who's been swept up by the chaos and due to his line of business he's had no time for family, and lost his marriage. With it went the house, and an arm.
Oh, yeah. I kinda wanted to do a character missing an arm, no prosthetic or anything, just a shoulder. Operates computers via brain jack like he's done for years anyway. He lost it when he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, working on a government owned server in Texas, during the rise of the Lone Stars. Got caught in the crossfire, and woke up in the hospital.

It's a rough concept, lemme know if it sucks or not.
 
I was thinking about maybe changing Irene's age, make her a little bit older. I don't know, she seems a bit too young for me.
 
Um. @Pellegrino Please delete your post, reread the rules then send it to me as a PM. Strike one.

Thank you for the edit. I shall oversee your CS and pass judgment on it soon :D
 
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Benicio264.jpg
Name: Edwin Guamá Amsel, Professionally known as Macana
Age: 53
Sex: Male
Faction: Freelance Mercenary
Backstory: Edwin eased himself onto the bar stool and waved. At once a chic young man approached from behind the bar, turned on a heal, and leaned close with a thin smile. Cute was easy, but the boldness of this sumptuous devil impressed. And yet, despite the potential for this handsome youth to be a bedfellow, Edwin offered little more than a glance and his order.

To call the bar 'appealing' would be a soulless understatement. Edwin had learned to expect a certain quality from Mid Level establishments, but dark, cherry wood accents beside plush leather far, far more elegant. His time in Singular City was still relatively shit. Poverty, the oppressive kind, seemed more appropriate after his first visit. He recognized that, poverty, from his time as a child in Puerto Rico shortly after the turn of the century. Forty some year old memories boiled his blood.

The times were not kind to America's commonwealth, and as a child of the Fuerzas Armadas de Liberación Nacional Puertorriquenña, they felt even harder. His father taught him the ways of the FALN, and while they were useful now, at that point it was his mind that drove him to success. A few cousins from New York whose names escaped him still invited him to the mainland. Academically, Edwin was intelligent. He smiled at this still, but he'd applied to New York colleges on a whim, mostly as a joke. The subsequent acceptance and scholarships baffles him still today -- then again, how admissions reps are used to the children of what some would consider a terrorist organization? One of the best decisions he'd made was attending. He managed to earn a Masters in Cultural Anthropology. Studying the history of his people, their thinking, their artwork, long since wiped out by imperialism inspired a mix of sadness and inspiration. Worse, seeing a corrupt nation risen from those ashes at the cost of so much only served to remind him of the lessons from his father. From FALN. Despite a degree that might lead to a position in academia or what have you, he contacted his dad. In little time Edwin was sent to Brazil to meet a retired Marine who'd worked with his father. Since the FALN controversy the men parted ways, his father to start a family, the Marine to become a mercenary. If Edwin wanted to become an agent for change, his father said, he'd need to become a game-changer. Edwin spent the next several years with the veteran in South America. After thirty years, he couldn't remember a harder training than that from the grizzled Marine. His orientation? Live mercenary work, live fire, deadly results. The work took many forms, loud and quiet, military sanctioned and independently funded. If someone wanted change and needed a gun to get it moving -- they were their men. That's how Edwin was introduced to the operative life. A few jobs had connected him with ABIN, the Brazilian Intelligence Agency. When the government required a scenario handled they called Edwin and his mentor. Some time into his career Edwin came across a particularly macabre job. He essentially served as cleanup for what looked to be a small genocide, but as always, a job was a job. That was the first of several missions associated with the Goon Squad. Usually cleanup, usually brutal. If someone saw too much or, hell, who knows, Edwin was called. Such was how he ended up in there, on the Middle Level of some bar in Singular City.

Edwin looked about. In a few brief glances he noted the nearest exits, traditional or otherwise, those who were armed, and most importantly, his target. He smiled to the bartender as the young man gingerly sat a Manhattan and a note in front of him. An address scrawled across a napkin. For a moment, Edwin imagined snapping a few photos and listing this as just one more opportunity to gather information. For a moment, he imagined the chic devil in an undoubtedly chic, yet charmingly small apartment -- probably loft-style -- nude, displaying himself among whatever artwork adorned his walls. But only for a moment.
Daydreams ended once the target stood. As the man neared a corner, Edwin focused his vision into infrared. He gulped down his Manhattan, winked at the devil, then made his way to the same corner with the glass still in hand. Perhaps thirty seconds after the target, Edwin entered the restroom. His eyes relaxed to their natural state as he looked about. The bathroom had a generously sized window, two occupants including himself, and no reason to waste time. Edwin the empty glass down and slid the trash bin beneath teh door handle. Satisfied, he lifted the glass off the counter and dropped it into the sink. As he fished for the largest, most wicked shard, the target flushed and left their stall. The man appeared with a furrowed brow -- clearly curious, but unable to see the strange sight. Edwin obliged with a quick introduction.


The glass shard lasted three blows before snapping. More than Edwin had expected, then again, the windpipe offered little in the way of resistance. Blood shot from the target's throat across his assailant's face and the mirror behind. By the time the man fell, several scarlet lines had painted the ceiling, bathroom stall, and mirror. Edwin knelt beside the body, the glass in one hand, his second checking the man's pulse. After a few seconds the man was gone. He took the time to wash himself and the glass before the bathroom door began to shake. Whether someone heard the commotion, or some poor sap needed to make use of the lavatory, it didn't matter. Edwin made his way out the window and ditched his coat a few blocks away. The night was still young. His work for the evening finished, Edwin fished in his pant-pocket for the devil's napkin.

Traits;
  1. NPC Night Doctor
  2. Cybernetic Eyes
  3. Operative
  4. Professional Reputation
  5. Sophistication: Edwin is comfortable and confident in his work. He knows the game is in it to win with every move, every glance, and every word.

Signature: Pellegrino
 
What size are we going for in terms of playerbase?
 
I'm drafting up the IC now actually. We have 2-4 players who have yet to submit their CS aswell. With those we ought to be set.
 
I'm curious how long we've got until we lose momentum. Here's to an active OOC!
 
Ah. we should be good. I do agree though. BE ACTIVE IN THE OOC!
 
[Insert constructive comment here]

Also, what do you think of that character concept I posted earlier?
 
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