The Last Bastion: Bunker Chicago

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Anyway, this is what Aiden will be doing in my next post:
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Hopefully my post will break the ice and the rest of you nerds will get to it. :D
 
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@Heyitsjiwon The door Omar is prying open is at the bottom of the elevator shaft after he slid down the cable. The wall was blasted open by Georgia to get access to the elevator from the room, no doors to mess with up there.
 
Well, that's everyone except GI, who I'm rather certain is suffering from a major case of deadness.
 
Post inbound; been hitting some major real life issues and wanted to notify y'all that I'm interested in participating. Post might be ugly and short, but here's to keeping Peter in the fight!
 
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Holy fuck he's alive!
 
Everyone, @Halo has joined us and controls Niamh from here on out. He'll post her CS soon. I control Jenive Rousseau, who is a returning NPC with some major changes from the previous TLB that you'll see later on here. :ferret:

TLB's theme song, if you need some inspiration. One of them, anyway.
 
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Hey guys. Here's the CS; post to follow within the next couple days. ^^


  • Name: Niamh Greyson

    Age: 20

    Sex: Female

    Appearance: Niamh is of an average height, standing at around 5'7", and is rather slight of frame - exceptionally so, in fact. Her style of dress can only be described as tomboyish, or perhaps, were one to be generous, "practical" - it consists mostly of long-sleeved t-shirts and combats, usually in hues of red and black to accentuate and highlight her unusually pale skin and dark auburn hair. She wouldn't be caught dead in a skirt or dress, although she does keep a few slightly more feminine pieces for special occasions. Her gait is oddly light, a spring always in her step, and she seems to glide more than walk across rooms. She's surprisingly toned, though her musculature is of the lean and wiry type - her body is not softly curvacious, but more firm planes and angles, which suits her just fine.

    History Type: Foreigner


    Biography: Niamh was born on the war-torn streets of London. Once the most populous city in Europe, the endless cycle of megalomaniacal warlords battling for control of the scant remaining resources had left the city a smouldering husk by then. Little was left of the cultural and historical heritage that had, according to Niamh's mother, once made London one of the cornerstones of the world.

    Niamh's father was, against his will, an army doctor in the forces of one of the many indistinguishable madmen vying for power. There was little choice to be had; if you were useful enough to draw attention, you either fought for whatever sonofabitch had his eye on you, or you suffered the cruelest whims of the vilest and most vicious soldiers they had at hand. Trained doctors were becoming rare, being killed off faster than anybody was willing to train them. Warzones are not, typically, conducive to academic instruction. And there was no escape from the hellish landscape; the entirety of Europe was consumed in a frenzy of hatred and power-lust and greed. So her father served, saving lives where he could, and taking lives when he had to. Survival.

    It was from him that Niamh learned the basics of the medical trade. He very quickly noticed that patients seemed to feel less pain when she was nearby, and though he had no idea why, he capitalised on it. She learned largely on the fly, helping in minor ways such as applying pressure to wounds while her father sterilised his equipment, specialising in physical trauma due to the types of injuries war causes. Although her knowledge about sickness and disease is therefore negligible, she has enough practical experience to be considered learned and well-versed in terms of battlefield medical care. And, simultaneously, her mutations – subtle and difficult to detect though they were – came to the fore.

    It wasn't long before she, too, was in danger of becoming a valuable commodity for whichever warlord controlled the area at the time. Her parents, seeing this, grew afraid. Afraid that their daughter would become trapped in the same cycle they were. Afraid that she, too, would be little more than a slave.

    Rumours of the 13 Colonies were abound. Though local powers tried to keep the whisperings under wraps, not particularly desiring for their pool of human resource to dry up even faster, they persisted. As it had been but a couple of centuries before for the Scottish highlanders from which Niamh was descended, the word “America” became synonymous with hope.

    At the age of 16, Niamh and her parents ran.

    Her mother died before they even left the city limits. Her wounds weren't too severe for Niamh and her father to deal with, but there was no way to reach the coast with her broken body in tow. Her father made the call. With the sounds of her mother crying in pain and begging for them to come back and save her loud in Niamh's ears, she and her father stumbled out of the ruins of London with haunted stares.

    There was a boat at the coast. They had bet everything on the rumours being true. They were. Thank fuck, thank God they were.

    And then the knife of fate in their backs, taking an opportunity to strike while they were blinded by relief. They were told the cost was double what rumour had led them to believe. They only had enough for one passenger.

    Niamh no longer had it in her to even pretend to resist her father's insistence that she go. She watched him as they left, a speck on the shore – alone, with not a penny to his name, wifeless and childless, and unable to return to whence he had came. He would be dead or essentially enslaved within weeks, even days. Niamh knew which option her father would take now that he no longer had her or her mother to worry about.

    The journey was brutal, and long, and hungry, and dirty, and Niamh doesn't remember much of it other than that. She was busy remembering her mother and father, tear tracks carving scars through the muck on her cheeks and her heart. She had always viewed herself as a life-giver in a world of life-taking, and the world had swung round to give her a reality check.

    That reality check took a lot of her young naivety – what little was left, after having grown up in the world she'd grown up in – away. Naturally, she had been cynical about the world, but internal matters, ones of herself and love and family, had managed to stay intact. No more. America saw a new Niamh – a harder one, if not a less kind one. A Niamh who was determined to be more independent, to be stronger, to make the most of the opportunities she would have in the land of hope she was tumbling into from out of the darkness.

    She stayed in Bunker New York for two years, learning, recovering, forgetting the past, and growing. She learned how to control her mutations better. She learned to fight and to shoot. She learned how not to be afraid. And once she learned that, she turned her eyes to the interior, wanting – somehow needing – to be on the frontier, where she'd be needed most. She headed to Bunker Chicago, where she has been these past two years.

    And how, upon hearing an explosion and seeing that people were buried in the rubble, could she not help?
    [tab=Technical]Class Unlock: Mutant Certification, Grunt Certification
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Post is up, but if someone can double check that I got the color coding for Carolyn done correctly, that would be great. Or show me how to compare it exactly. Either way, it would be appreciated.
 
Post is up, but if someone can double check that I got the color coding for Carolyn done correctly, that would be great. Or show me how to compare it exactly. Either way, it would be appreciated.
You got the color right, but it looks slightly different since you didn't make it bold text like Brovo does with dialogue.

In the upper right of the rich text editor there is a button that looks like a kinda broken square that makes things switch to the BB Code Editor so you can see all the coding in use. Quoting someone's post and then switching to that view will show you the exact formatting tags they've used.
 
Hey guys, got an Invite from Brovo so I figured I would put up a CS and see what people (*Brovo) think.

---Personal---​


Name: Manny Rupert
Age: 32
Sex: Male
Appearance:

obstruction_by_vampirehungerstrike-d8t0a7r.jpg


History Type: Homesteader
Biography:
Born and raised in the rural country-side just outside Chicago, Manny was herding livestock with his Father the moment he could walk and talk. By the time he was 16 he knew the rough terrain like the back of his hand, and by 18, full of piss and vinegar and against the wishes of his parents he signed up to be a guard for a trade caravan that was heading out of Chicago en route to Detroit and Toronto. This entailed being officially under the watchful eyes of the Council of Adam since the Council maintains demand for certain goods and directs where these Caravans go and sell their wares. What this actually meant was that Manny was nothing more than a meat-shield against insane raiders and wildlife looking for a quick meal.

Surprisingly, Manny became quite competent at his new job and his experience as a shepherd made it possible for him to scout the rougher parts of the country-side ahead of the Caravan without much trouble. By the time he turned 21 he had picked up skills as a half-way decent sniper, mostly out of necessity since he often gunned down wild-life and small pockets of gangbangers on his scouting trips.

At the age of 25, after making a stop in Miami, his group was attacked and completely over run by raiders with Manny barely escaping with his life. Tired, broke and starving he managed to move his way up city by city until he had reached Chicago, mostly by living off of the land and carefully avoiding any raiders that would love nothing more than to cook him in a stew, among other things. By the time he finished his journey, the traumatic experience was more than enough to make him rethink his career choice and he enlisted with Bunker Chicago as a Scout.

For the next seven years, Manny would leave the city and live in the dangerous country-side for days on end. Observing the migration patterns in the more nomadic raider groups and wild-life and occasionally getting into firefights if conflict could not be avoided. After a period of 3-5 days, Manny would return and present his report to the local authorities, spend two days resting and re-equipping, only to set out and start all over again. Eventually he requested a replacement of his digestive system with a synthetic one since the flora and fauna he ate to stay alive was beginning to make him dangerously ill, the operation was approved on the condition that his pay was cut by 25% for six months to make up for the costs. After a two week recovery period he was deemed fit and set out on regular duties once more with no future signs of illness.

There were questions about his mental health due to slow but steady changes in his personality and looks. The most obvious was his hair balding by the age of 29, likely caused by the stress of living in the do-or-die wilderness for so long. He's also slowly became more and more anti-social as when he first signed up he was always friendly and amicable but now is seen as a recluse who avoids most interactions with others.

Four weeks ago, during the fifth day of his scouting tour, Manny engaged in a firefight with a small group of raiders. While pinning down three from a higher vantage point, one managed to sneak around and flank him, firing at Manny with what could only be guessed as explosive ammunition. With two rounds hitting him just above his right elbow his arm was completely torn apart. Somehow he managed to get away and reach Bunker Chicago before dying of either shock or blood-loss. With his body stabilized, it was deemed by the Bunker that Manny was valuable enough to graft a cheaper cybernetic arm to replace his organic one. Ironically this proved to be a life-saver for Manny in the long run since he was in recovery when the Shadow Zone appeared and he surely would have been sent into the Zone to never return.

It seems however that Manny, for better or for worse, will not simply be able to return back to his old routine.For one reason or another he was been transferred to Carolyn’s squad, combine that with his new arm which he is far from being fully accustom to, Manny Rupert will most likely have some difficulties adjusting.



---Technical---​


Class Unlock:
Grunt Certification


Cybernetics:
  • C-grade Military Cybernetic arm- Not the strongest or the most durable, but still gets the job done. With a grip strength of 70 kg and a maximum lifting capacity of 95 kg, it's a relatively cheap cybernetic given to military personal who are seen as somewhat valuable.
  • Synthetic Digestive System-an unusual and rather expensive upgrade. The entire human digestive system has been replaced with one designed to ingest questionable food and other materials that would otherwise lead to severe illness or death.

Weapon Mods: an M24 sniper rifle with a sound suppressor and a slightly enhanced range of 900 meters. Comes with armor piercing ammunition that can penetrate lightly armored vehicles

Other:
  • Night vision Binoculars

Signature: Slade
 
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You got the color right, but it looks slightly different since you didn't make it bold text like Brovo does with dialogue.

In the upper right of the rich text editor there is a button that looks like a kinda broken square that makes things switch to the BB Code Editor so you can see all the coding in use. Quoting someone's post and then switching to that view will show you the exact formatting tags they've used.
Ah, well thanks a bunch. Think I'll leave the text as is though, making dialogue suddenly bold for one post then switching back would be rather silly of me.
 
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So, uh, this happened. Not sure whether to basically ignore what his character said to me in my response, or whether to respond and if @Brovo is just gonna write Aiden out somehow next GM post?
 
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So, uh, this happened. Not sure whether to basically ignore what his character said to me in my response, or whether to respond and if @Brovo is just gonna write Aiden out somehow next GM post?
Respond as normal, I'll turn Aiden into an NPC and write him out when it's next appropriate.
 
Post is up. It's monstrously huge, but I had a lot to try to address. I tried to hurry it up toward the end. Future ones will be more reasonable in size, I swear!
 
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(Niamh he believed her name was.. he was having trouble pronouncing it)

For future reference for everyone, it's simply pronounced "Neev". It's an old Irish name, hence the weird-ass spelling. ^^
 
lol, I was just busting your chops and figured I would throw in a little quip in relation to her. :P
 
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