Hidden 4 mos ago Post by Ruby
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@Hellion has been added as a coGM.
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Hidden 4 mos ago 4 mos ago Post by vancexentan
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vancexentan Hawk of Endymion

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Hidden 4 mos ago Post by Ruby
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Alrighty...well, I see Discord has given me a break to focus on the rest of my CS so here's the 98% finished draft.

I pretty much need to add some "Known Associates" and should be good to go.

Some feedback on the history would be great, as there is A LOT going on with regard to the connection to certain lore characters, and I want to make sure there is cohesion.



Day early, but...approved.
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Hidden 4 mos ago 4 mos ago Post by Stitches
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Stitches

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Hidden 4 mos ago Post by Hellion
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Hellion Nulla Dies / Sine Linea

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Congratz to the follow sheets:

@Bork Lazer "Connie"
@Sad Ogo "Mac"
@BrutalBx "Dead Kelley"
@LetMeDoStuff "Conrad"

Feel free to post them in the Characters tab at your leisure.

NOTE: This is only the first round of approvals! GMs are still going over other sheets, so stay tuned!
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Hidden 4 mos ago Post by Ruby
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Approved! Gratzi.:D
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Hidden 4 mos ago Post by Ruby
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GMs will be starting the IC by the end of the upcoming weekend.

Once we post, we're in the first sandbox period of the game. This is the time to post your intros and work out if you want to meet your Fixer in a more personal way, or simply get a call to show up at Afterlife when the moment comes to start Act I.

Feel free to send any questions or ideas, or if you'd like to brainstorm a scene.
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Garden Gnome Definitely made in IKEA

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Hi!

I'll show to join if you're still accepting new players?
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Hi!

I'll show to join if you're still accepting new players?


Only one or two slots left, but we're still accepting applications and won't finalize those spots until this weekend.
Hidden 4 mos ago 4 mos ago Post by Hellion
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Round II of reviews are finished!

Congratz to the following sheets:

@Mao Mao Bluejay
@vancexentan John Brown

Feel free to post your CS in the character tab at your leisure.

Also, GMs are continuing to review submissions, so stay tuned!

Hidden 3 mos ago 3 mos ago Post by Bazmund
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Bazmund Not a Doctor

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C U P I D
C U P I D

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
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“What the fuck do you mean I’m not allowed to smoke in here?"
C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T
C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T
C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y
C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y

Yaḥyā ‘John’ Valentine-al’Hakim
_________________________________________________________
43 | | Bisexual
_________________________________________________________
Single - Divorced | Mercenary - Ex-Trauma Team Field Doctor | Unaffiliated (Formerly British Army)
P H Y S I C A L P R O F I L E
P H Y S I C A L P R O F I L E

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S

C H A R A C T E R H I S T O R Y
C H A R A C T E R H I S T O R Y

Labour lasted sixteen hours and approximately thirty two minutes, proceeded naturally and without incident, baby given vitamin K with parental consent, all screening negative. Ms. Al-Hakim declined epidural anaesthesia, citing religious reasons and a desire to be 'totally there' for the process. Entonox offered and accepted once contractions had been regular for half an hour. No trauma or tears to the perineum, blood loss approximately 400ml. No evidence of retained materials or ragged membranes. Midwife and doctor in mutual agreement that there are no concerns relating to Ms. Al-Hakim or baby's health, thus due for discharge in the morning.

Birth at 0023 hours, date is 4th of March, 2035. We are glad to offer our congratulations to the parents, and a warm welcome to Baby Valentine-al-Hakim.


John Valentine - as he often goes by in English speaking communities - had been fascinated with the medical world since as long as he could remember. When his parents found him having broken into their records cabinet to look through the notes they'd requested from the hospital after he was born, he told them he was just curious - that he wanted to know how it all worked. They were as ecstatic at his reasoning as they were awkward with the explanation, and promptly enrolled him in extra classes to sate his hunger for education - a hunger that would always serve him well.

Valentine excelled in school, working through the standard British curriculum and his extra teaching with a relentless drive, matching each challenge that was thrown at him with gusto and grace. He was often disruptive - but despite that, he was well liked by the staff at Hedingham Hill Comprehensive School, and his childhood was decidedly normal. He was talented, intelligent, and charming - if boisterous and occasionally mischievous.

He had his first beer at 15, smoked his first joint in secret behind the gym at school when he was 16, and found his first girlfriend at 17. Very pleasant, and for him of course very exciting - but as far as the world was concerned it was nothing really special.

Then, at the age of 18 he enlisted in the army as part of his compulsory national service, preferring to get it out of the way rather than let the threat of it linger by deferring until after university - and, he reasoned, so he could get the army to pay his tuition fees too. It was not something he had looked forward to, and certainly not something he had expected to enjoy. No. He had expected to chafe under authority and initially adopted an approach of keeping his head down and trying to stay out of trouble - like he hadn't in school.

He surprised himself. Or rather, the army did.

Valentine had expected the officers commanding him to be pompous and arrogant, unconcerned with his or any other soldier's wellbeing, and happy to issue blatantly foolish orders at the expense of the soldiery. In part, this was why he expected to fit in poorly - since he had issues with unwarranted authority. Instead he found a cadre of competent and charismatic officers, many of whom were real deal - lead by example, put the men first, neither get into a pointless fight nor back away from a worthwhile one, those sorts of ideals.

Ideals he found he agreed with. Ideals he found he could embrace.

His career shone. Unlike most conscripts, and perhaps for lack of another cause to devote himself to, John Valentine’s two years in the army were something he relished. He put in the effort, he took on the extra training courses when they were available, and he pursued a specialty within his field. At the age of 19, John Valentine passed selection for the 181st Squadron, Royal Army Corps of Signals. This was a feat. He was by no means the youngest in this squadron - there were those who had entered it directly as volunteers rather than be conscripted - but he distinguished himself nonetheless. He would go on to serve in active duty, passing the commando course as prerequisite for field operations with the 181, and then enter combat across Britain - but never more often than in the London Combat Zones.

After his tour of duty was up, he made the difficult choice to pursue an education and qualify as a doctor, while remaining an army reservist. He would also eventually earn a commission as an officer - the first in his known family history to do so - and become Lieutenant Valentine. Addicted to the rush of combat and the cold focus of adrenaline, he took what he had learned and applied it to his medical career equally - he specialised in emergency medicine at the very same hospital he’d been born at, St. Bart’s, once the largest and greatest trauma centre in Western Europe. He met a girl, he fell in love, started dating and eventually got married. He lost an arm in the line of duty while deployed during a crisis - at this point, Captain Valentine - and accordingly was allocated a spare from Porton Down Engineering. He studied, he worked, he fought, he lived - he sat exams and failed them the first time, then failed them again, and passed only on his third try. He learned from his mistakes and took time away from the army to continue with his medical career, eventually attaining the rank of SAS Doctor - then after that, Emergency Consultant.

He had a son. Rupinder, named after his wife’s late brother - but Ruby for short.

He was happy.

But it couldn’t - no, it wouldn’t last.

Al-Hakim is a title as much as it is a name, hereditary by his generation, but once earned by one of his ancestors. It means ‘The Wise’.

His greatest failure was that he could never live up to it.

Blinded by ambition and enthralled with the idea of seeing real action again, when Trauma Team came knocking he didn’t even hesitate. He uprooted his family and shed his friends like a thin coat of skin, and moved to Night City. This is where his marriage troubles began - it’s where he started to lose his grip on his life.

Not to say he wasn’t good at his job, of course - it was probably the one part of his life where he kept up all the appearances and never once slipped up. Trauma Team were good to him, and whether it was taking on AeroDyne shifts or covering an Emergency Department for a double shift when he was meant to be resting, he did what he was told. He found common purpose in his colleagues - some of whom had similar backgrounds, and shared his ideals of medicine, healthcare, and glorious progress. He took part in the new Rubicon Programme - a sort of cybernetics trial, looking at the value of augmenting senior doctors and nurses with what essentially amounted to in-built imaging equipment. It was a resounding success.

At home, he was a resounding absence.

Thing came to a head when his AeroDyne responded to a call and essentially lost the fight. Not his first defeat, nor his first injury, but certainly his first time being taken alive. A group of Edgerunners had been planning for the Trauma Team response unit their client had paid for, and their aircraft was blown out of the sky with anti-tank weapons that had been rigged to a ballistics co-processor and a small quantum CPU. Years later he would applaud their ingenuity - but over the next two days, he would curse the fact that they’d not even been good enough to make sure they were dead.

If they had died, he wouldn’t have been taken by Scavs.

Sometimes he wonders if there are still braindances being sold of what they did to him. He wakes up in the middle of the night, clutching his throat, reliving the drowning sensation, fearing for his life.

Yasmina - his wife - gave him an ultimatum. He leaves Trauma Team, or she leaves him and takes Ruby with her.

As if Ruby even recognised him to begin with.

But he did the right thing for once. He discussed matters with the friends he’d made in the company - the corpo rats he’d used to hate, when he was infantry - and made arrangements for his departure. They were very understanding, and some strings were pulled so that he wouldn’t need to go through any more surgery before leaving. Somebody probably got in serious trouble - but they were good at finding a fall guy, and even if he did care about who it was, his marriage was more important.

It lasted a year.

Nothing changed, is the worst part. No relapsing into his old ways, no more fighting and gunplay, no more long shifts - nothing. Sometimes he wonders if it was the nightmares that finally pushed her away - if he’d become so broken that he could no longer be dealt with - but he knew the truth.

She’d given him one more chance - but it was a chance that came after the damage had been done. Dealing with him in his current state didn’t help of course - might have even been the straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak - but it probably didn’t matter. He would never know how long it had been since she loved him; he would never know how long it had been since he truly ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him, and pushed away the one person who loved him the most.

The divorce was quick, and technically amicable - Ruby stayed three nights at his place, and four at his mother’s - but it was just too obvious who was to blame. When Valentine started drinking, Yasmina saw it for what it was - the start of a death spiral - and pulled Ruby out. Valentine lost his visitation rights after the first pill, then lost his apartment after he nearly burned it down after trying to cook while he was high.

He was homeless for a bit - a bit too vicious to be a victim, a bit too unstable to find a home. His cyberware started to creak and groan - no eddies means no maintenance - and he started to get truly desperate. Desperate for warmth, for food, for money, for an escape.

For what it’s worth, he never once blamed his wife. Not ever. He knew what he’d done. He hated himself more than any criminal or terrorist he’d ever been deployed against, more than any lowlife scav stealing bits from his clients’ bodies, more than- well, more than anything.

His instincts saved him - but not the ones you’d expect.

Out of everything he could have done when he found a young Valentino passed out in the gutter one night while he was stalking around and going through withdrawal, he kept the boy safe. He stayed with him, giving psychotic death glares at anyone who so much as looked at him - he even barked at a Tyger Claw. Like a dog. Less than a dog.

But he could do this - he could keep him safe. One last thing, he thought, just this one last thing.

The kid woke up eventually and pulled a sword on him - but after he was disarmed and they had a moment to talk, Espadaverde (a name he had invented, thought Valentine) realised he wasn’t going to get home safe alone, and let Valentine walk him there.

Valentine got some food and a sofa. It was the first good he’d gotten since everything went to shit, and it was all he could do to not break down and cry. From there the rest is history - Andreas moved out and took Valentine with him, found him a weapon and some work - through which he eventually met Abby, too - and helped him realise he couldn’t die just yet.

What would his son think, if the story ended here?

There were ups and downs, many more of the latter - and he never kicked his newfound habits - but things were stable enough, even if the persistent thought of just quitting plagued him still. Abby had her turn to save his life too - Andreas could give him reasons, but the Valentinos weren’t a purpose.

He never told her that he’d already taken the pills when she knocked on his door. It was difficult, finding an antidote in time, especially secretly - but he did it. He had someone to live for again - someone to recover for again.

That was enough.

D E T A I L E D A P P E A R A N C E
D E T A I L E D A P P E A R A N C E

John Valentine is a tall, lithe, lean looking man. He was stockier and fuller once - but his addictions have taken a toll, even if it’s not immediately obvious that’s what it is. His skin is a pale sort of olive tan, and his hair is dark and thick. He has scars around his cyberarm - from the blast that took off the original - and smaller, white, thin scars inside his mouth, from the implements used by the Scavs. One tattoo, bearing the insignia of his old comrades, and his motto - Certa Cito, Magna Clara.

P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )
P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )

John Valentine is like Abby - in recovery, not always stable, and struggling almost every day. He represents the difficulty of it, and the balancing act it often requires - especially when one’s occupation is a part of one’s vices. I’m certainly hoping that there will be room for him to learn how to be on his own again, and find something to live for that isn’t as volatile as a person - but tragedy can also be art, and while I think I would prefer him to ultimately be successful (even if it ultimately means trying to step away from the life of a merc entirely), I’m certainly not counting on it. His and Abby’s story are also tied together - they live together, work together, and essentially treat eachother. It’s an interesting dynamic, even if it isn’t always healthy.

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Hidden 3 mos ago 3 mos ago Post by Garden Gnome
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Garden Gnome Definitely made in IKEA

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Hidden 3 mos ago 3 mos ago Post by Dog
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Bork Lazer Chomping Time

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It was an hour since they’d taken the call and Conrad’s body had to be left behind with the others. Connie had no choice. It was either the choice of being eaten or eaten alive by the scavs. She had a feeling that having your insides pilfered by the Maelstroms was a experience that the live-radio interviews on NC Live

Braindance addicts crowded the alley they were in, some slumped over in their drunken stupor and others waving their hands in their air as if they were trying to catch fairies. Their gaped, drooling mouths heaved out wet, mucous breathes in a quiet chorus. They were down to five personnel, including herself. Connie checked both ends of the alleyway, checking that the coast was clear, before pressing a button on the side of her helmet.

“ This is TT-S-1479 to TT-Central. Multiple 10-99, I repeat, multiple 10-99’s.”

There was a short burst of static before an elderly voice, wracked with years of smoking, took over. Connie’s shoulders sank in relief as the familiar voice of Major Dhatri took over. Things would be alright now.

“ This is Major Dhatri. Sitrep, TT-1479.”

“ Call is FUBAR, I repeat, call is FUBAR. We are currently located on 5th, Vista El Sonya, Heywood. Multiple contacts on our location. Requesting reinforcements over.”

Connie’s blood then went cold at the major’s reply.

“ All available trauma units are currently taking calls. You’re on your own, Zhu.”

“ Roger, over and out - “ Connie cancelled the call, her hand shaking, before she let loose a frustrated scream “ Fuck!”

She punched the brick wall before turning to her team. There were five of them left. She couldn’t tell their expressions under their helmet but this wasn’t a good look for her. Taking a breath in to recompose herself, she tried to assert order over her panicking squad, speaking in a clipped fashion.

“ Alright, everyone, listen up. I’m taking one out of our paychecks and calling a Combat Cabb.” Groans of disappointment could be heard in the alley. “Our pick-up is a 10 minute ETA nearly half a klick away. Now, move it on the do-”

The temperature seemed to lower by 15 degrees as the entire team heard the sound of metal scraping off concrete. Across the end of the alleyway was a Maelstrom gangoon, the entire left side of his face carved out and replaced with a hideous metallic simulacrum of itself. His red optics flickered and underneath that inhuman gaze was a curled lip of satisfaction. He ran his thermal machete against the side of the alleyway, the edge bouncing off the uneven surface.

“ Lookie what we caught here.” He giggled. “ A buncha bonesaws.”

Connie heard the click of receivers, shadows above them on the roof. She began to feel slowly like a rat in a cage as she barked out orders.

“ Oh fuck! RUN-”




“ - RUN!” Connie burst out of her blankets, gasping like a fish taken out of deep water. Her breathing slowed as she took in her surroundings. Bottles of synthetic vodka laid on the floor next to her. The orange sunrise of Night City flowed through the blinds, illuminating the dust that floated in the air. The other breathing occupant of the room murmured in annoyance, a languid arm rising out of the blankets to pull her back into her embrace.

“ What was that, Scalpel?”

“ Nothing. Just a bad dream.”




Because I was bored.
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Hidden 3 mos ago Post by Ruby
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@Stitches and @Bazmund your characters are approved. Please move them over to the Characters tab at your earliest convenience.
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Hidden 3 mos ago Post by Ruby
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Opening post is likely to be a collab between one of the players and myself as Eddie. It's already two pages of written words into it, and HOPEFULLY done no later than end of week.
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Hidden 3 mos ago Post by Ruby
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IC is open for posts.

Many thanks to @Sad Ogo for letting us start out with a neat scene between his Mac and the Fixer Eddie.

The beginning of the IC begins the first of the 'Intermission' stages of the game (although I guess this is more of a prologue at the moment); when the game is more-or-less in sandbox mode, open for whatever kind of posting you'd like. If you want a scene with one of the GM NPCs, give us a shout. We'll see if we can make it happen.

This period of posting will end when Eddie calls the Mercs together at Afterlife to form the Merc group, and begin the first of their jobs.

Happy posting, chooms.
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Hidden 3 mos ago Post by vancexentan
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vancexentan Hawk of Endymion

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Made my first post hope it came out well.
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Hidden 3 mos ago Post by vancexentan
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Just an note I don't really have much in the way of plans for my character so I'm going to just sit him in the diner unless you want me to have him go rough up some thug across the street or something.
Hidden 3 mos ago Post by Hellion
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Hellion Nulla Dies / Sine Linea

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Just an note I don't really have much in the way of plans for my character so I'm going to just sit him in the diner unless you want me to have him go rough up some thug across the street or something.


No worries. You're free to do as much as or as little as you want
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