Maybe. Undecided. I'll keep an eye on it. Here's a couple of characters I'm contemplating, as a token of my possible commitment. [hider=Doug Goodman] [b]Name:[/b] Doug Goodman [b]Age:[/b] 26 [b]Appearance:[/b] Doug is a lightly built Caucasian male with a set of unremarkable features. Short dark hair compliments a brow free of wrinkles or stress lines, and a pair of stale blue eyes sit above a hooked nose. He is cleanly shaven, though would struggle to grow a full beard even if he put his razor away for a few days. He has no scars, or other signs of significant past-injury. However, the palms of his hands are cracked and often tainted with engine oil or grease. This blemish on his hands never seems to alleviate itself, regardless of how much soap he attacks them with. Doug wears tattered and stained navy blue work coveralls, along with his worn leather work boots and a heavy set welder's apron. [b]Personality:[/b] Doug is a calm and reserved man, intelligent far beyond his occupation. He enjoys reading and taking on new information, but can lose patience with those who bluster on about topics of which they know little about. Even so, he is slow to anger, and can be described as "cool" under pressure. [b]Job:[/b] Line Mechanic, Ford Plant. [b]Backstory:[/b] By day, Doug is an ordinary man living beneath the benevolent eyes of the League of Nations. He works hard on the Ford production line, slaving away to piece together cars for the Big Man. Doug never complains when the company misses his paycheck, nor does he shun unpaid over time. To his employer, he is the perfect worker, and to the League of Nations, he is the perfect citizen. Hard working, committed and [i]quiet[/i]. By night, Doug is self-styled amateur saboteur. Working his way from the small time, such as lobbing homemade grenades into guard posts and setting fire to police cars, he got his first big break after successfully detonating a plastic explosive inside the Wilhelm Municipal Police Headquarters, killing a senior German army officer and several of his aides in the process. On the run from a massive manhunt, Doug was taken in by the Patriots, who went to great lengths to throw the authorities off of his trail. Since then, he has been working for them and is considered somewhat an explosives expert. He has a distaste for the way the world has gone, and sees the removal of the League of Nations as necessary to restoring the planet's natural order. [b]Other:[/b] [/hider] [hider=Rosie Peterson] [b]Name:[/b] Rosie Peterson [b]Age:[/b] 32 [b]Appearance:[/b] Rosie is a short woman with a stocky build, and looks as if gravity conspired to flatten her slightly. Wide shoulders and wide hips give her the posture of a fighter, but Rosie's height puts her at a disadvantage in that regard. Dark brown hair, often tied back into a ponytail, sleeks down between her shoulder blades. Brown eyes punctuate a pale and freckled face, and firm pink lips form a tightened line below a small nose. She often wears jeans, a stripey red and white jumper, and a heavy suede jacket that looks a couple of sizes too big for her. A purple beret tops off this jumble sale, though her boots are oddly practical and made of solid black leather. [b]Personality:[/b] Rosie is an impassioned woman, fighting on the forefront of equality. She hates the idea of being looked down upon because of her gender, and this has put her on a collision course with some of the more conservative members of American post-war society. Hot headed and sometimes sporadically violent, she does not shy away from a fight unless the odds are stacked vastly against her. However, when she's not preoccupied with battling the menfolk with words and tight fisted punches, she can be quite bubbly under the right circumstances, and enjoys a good drink. [b]Job:[/b] Rosie is a journalist, of sorts. Her works are considered illegal. [b]Backstory:[/b] Rosie can still remember vivid details about the invasion over twenty years ago, and can recall clear as day the moment her mother fell down at the porch of their family home - the local clergymen having delivered the news on her father's fate. He died at some contested battlefield on the East Coast, fighting alongside his brothers in arms to keep the Germans at bay. But he died, many died, and the Germans were still in America, twenty years later. This notion has always left Rosie with a particularly hostile outlook on life, and more importantly, on all things League of Nations. No amount of girls boarding schools, constant indoctrination by local Germanic Guides groups or the relentless propaganda of the German-run press could dampen a sense of outright violation. The Hun had come into her home, killed her father, left her mother a broken ruin, and consigned her to a highly dysfunctional educational system. And what awaited her after all that? To be shackled to some half-wit with nothing to look forward to but the cycle of childbirth and the slow decay of age and the onset of reluctant acceptance. This injustice needed answering, and so as soon as she came of age to make her own decisions (though these were limited), she fled her home in Chicago and became a vagrant. She bounced from group to group over the years, falling on hard times, but also making many friends in the process. Life was tough, and she found herself in some terrible situations. Until she found a flare for reporting on current events - a taboo subject in today's world, without proper approval from the government. It started with a simple flyer she wrote advising other vagrants on recent arrests and police prosecution tactics. The flyer no doubt saved some lives, but more importantly, it gained an audience. Spurred on by this random piece of success, Rosie threw herself into reporting. She stalked police and military checkpoints, watching them for days, and recording their actions. Everything of interest would get printed, via an old friend's printing press, and then handed out on the streets of whatever town she happened to be passing through. Some dismissed her illegitimate and frankly thin paper as lies and the work of deluded children, but others saw truth in her semi-polished words. This garnered her some fame, and with it, a permanent fan base. Eventually, she arrived in Wilhelm, with a reputation that preceded her in the town's underbelly. Naturally, the Patriots enlisted her services to assist with their propaganda machine - an enlistment she leapt at wholeheartedly. [b]Other:[/b] Her paper is called the "3 Pages", a play on words, because it represents "freedom" but it also usually only contains three pages. [/hider]