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Name: Ted Brady
Age: 45
Gender: Male
Class: Govvy
Occupation: Former United States Secretary of Commerce
Personality: After his precious daughter became a ‘Potterhead,’ she labeled him a ‘Slytherin,’ Although, he had little no knowledge of what that really meant until he had to sit through more than one of the Harry Potter movies during obligatory Family Night in the Brady Household, which was mainly some political get-up to make Ted look more like a ‘Family Man.’ He did love his family, though, but he loved his work more—power, control, and a little bit more than a little manipulation. So, maybe he did come off as a little cold to the one’s close to him, but the public said he loved them—so, who was going to question the media?
Background: Ted came from the typical American family with the typical American values of ‘God helps those who help themselves.’ He has one brother, but honestly, due to the all the limelight shining on Ted, he can’t say he really knows his brother too well. In fact, it’s probably true that it’s not just Ted who’s out of date with his family, but his family is also out of date with him. He’d always been a smooth-talking jock of a guy. Hell, he was the guy who managed to run a 100 meter dash in about 10.50 seconds and debate his way out of almost any corner (is that why he loved being on the debate team?). He wasn’t perfect, of course, which was why he tried not to back himself into too many corners. It was better that way; so, when he began his political career (outside of school and his memorable High School Student Council position), there were no skeletons for the media or public to pick apart.
He married his college sweetheart, Anne Walsh. They met in a political science class. Anne wasn’t the least bit interested in politics until Ted came charming his way around the subject. She actually found herself getting interested in politics, herself. Anne wasn’t Ted’s first conquest, but she would be his last in regards to women—at least, he thought. Anne and Ted married fresh out of college, and after several years of marriage, Sarah was born. If Ted thought he understood the other sex by the way Anne doted on him, he was wrong. Sarah was a new adventure altogether. Maybe she was too much of an adventure because Anne didn’t bare Ted another child.
All the same, Ted was busy with campaigning and working his way into the Executive threshold of the American government. It seemed perfect as he climbed up that ladder. Each string was perfectly placed; he knew exactly what to say; he knew what they all wanted to hear. He never really stopped to ‘congratulate’ himself, but the real reason for never stopping was because he ‘wanted more.’ And, more he got – especially when the Epidemic happened. He was the fucking Secretary of Commerce, after all! What the Hell was he supposed to do? Save people and shit, of course.
Survival is survival; and he made plans for his family first. He wasn’t a saint, and even if his backstory didn’t make any hints about his intentions, the very fact his family was to be escorted to a ‘Top Secret Safety House’ wouldn’t be a surprise. Unfortunately, when it rained, it poured. Shit hit the roof. Sarah, sixteen at the time, admitted she was pregnant. Maybe it was Ted’s rage that caused the roof to fall on the entire escape plan, or maybe it was just ‘dumb luck.’ Sarah, his Goddamn beautiful, beloved daughter, had always been difficult, a hell-raiser, but this? Every scenario crossed Ted’s mind like it did in those debates, those meetings, those long hours of contemplation and chewing the fat with other political heads. Maybe he had bit his tongue too many times during his political career because the sharp words that hissed from his mouth when he found out caused more drama than the sticks and stones that could break bones.
In short, Sarah and Anne never made it to the ‘Top Secret Safety House.’ Ted arrived by himself and neither his daughter nor his wife followed suit. They had both managed to die amongst the Lurkers. It wasn’t foul play by any means. Ted wouldn’t hurt his own family. He only used words, after all. Sarah tried to go find her boyfriend; and Anne tried to stop her. It was a mess. It was all a mess; and Ted was supposed to clean it up; but he was without a family, now. If he wasn’t cold before this all happened; his was chillingly austere, now.
Goal: Restore America
Equipment: Ammo, Tool Kit, Cleaning Kit, First Aid Kit, Notebook, Pen, Handkerchief, Communication Device, Bullet Proof Vest, Wallet w/ Picture of Anne and Sarah
Weapons: Colt .380 Mustang (specialized), Chain Whip (secondary), Beretta ARX 100 Semi-Auto Rifle (secondary)
Skills: Diplomacy (Expert); Oratory (advanced); Intimidate (advanced); Firearms (novice); First Aid (novice)
Family: Anne Brady – Wife (deceased); Sarah Brady – Daughter (deceased)
Miscellaneous:
Name: Theodore Lawson
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Class: Survivor
Occupation: Loader
Personality: He had always been a quiet and reserved kid growing up, but the change of environment forced him to speak up more and bolden his personality in order to keep from being cast aside with the weak ones. Although life was rough, Theodore usually seems to be on the verge of being a hopeful idealist, who could be incorrectly categorized as ‘Happy-Go-Lucky.’ Of course, he does have a serious side. It would be almost insane if he truly was happy all the time, and as time has proven, he only rolls so far with the punches and pushing off of the bruises with an acceptance for self-deprecating, goofy or corny humor as he has been known to snap or wake up on the wrong side of the cot.
Background: Theodore grew up in some inner city of Danville, Virginia. Life had always been a bit confusing for Theodore. Although, he couldn’t have said it was bad. Not a lot of kids in the neighborhood knew or lived with their fathers, either, but it always bothered Theodore that his mother worked the night shifts. He remembered staying up late at night watching the shit-box television in her room while he tried to fall asleep at night without her. He knew he was a big boy, being six years old, but he still missed the presence of his mother at nights. It wasn’t until he got a bit older when he learned that he wasn’t supposed to legally be staying home alone. He didn’t really care, though. He never got into any trouble, and no one ever minded him. In fact, Theodore was generally a quiet kid and was never had a reason to look for any trouble. He had this weird need to stay away from everyone. Maybe he was an introvert. Whatever the case, he never had the energy to talk to people, but by no means was Theodore trouble free. He got into several fights from time to time for things like other kids calling his mother a ‘Whore.’ He knew what a whore was, and his mother was far from being one. She was just gone a lot.
And yeah, sometimes she let her friends come into the small apartment. But, they were nice and usually didn’t stay too long. Sometimes they gave him things like toys and a pat on the head or shoulder. Theodore wasn’t supposed to be around them, but he never cared to be. Except, one time he heard his mom call for help because her friend was trying to hurt her. It was confusing being scolded while his mother tried to mend the large bruise on his cheek because ‘He wasn’t supposed to be around them.’ It wasn’t like he wanted to get hit, it was just that he was pretty sure a man wasn’t supposed to treat a lady like that. Plus, he loved his mother. He didn’t want her to get hurt.
Around the age of ten, Theodore’s mother gave birth to a little girl, Isabel. It was a big adjustment, and school seemed to get harder during that time frame. He found himself bringing notes to school with weird excuses he knew weren’t true for why he had missed a day or two. It didn’t matter, though. He trusted his mother and knew she was doing the right thing. Besides, he was tired most of the time, anyways, and he found himself sleeping during class a lot. Child Protective Services showed up once, but the program was such a shit stain, all he had to do was smile with his sister at the two men before they made their apologies and left.
One of his pet peeves was when one of his mother’s friends started coming around more than the others. It was about when Isabel was two, and he was twelve. He always asked about Isabel and never looked once at Theodore except to scold him for being a ‘perverted teenage boy who better keep his hands to himself.’ It made sense to Theodore now, though. His mom was a ‘Whore,’ and the kids down the street hadn’t been lying. And maybe, if he hadn’t been so loyal and good to his mother, he would have defended himself in front of her ‘client.’ He never did, though, and sometimes, he wished he had.
Sure, life was shitty, but everywhere Theodore looked, life was shitty. Yeah, he may have been passive with the assholes his mother brought into her bedroom, but he had Isabel to mind, especially when their mother wouldn’t wake up in the afternoons like she usually did. He couldn’t scold his mother for the life choices she had made. She was doing the best she could, and as far as Theodore was concerned, they hadn’t gotten into any legal trouble, yet. Kind of like how no one got in trouble for him staying home alone when he was younger. ‘It didn’t happen if you didn’t get caught.’ This quote was often the reasons he turned a blind eye to the things his mother did. Besides, he loved her too much to get mad.
Theodore had one good friend growing up. His name was Josh, and he stopped coming around after Isabel was born. ‘Babies weren’t his thing.’ Josh did have a lot of siblings, being Roman Catholic or poor or whatever excuse he felt like using when explaining his family dynamics. Theodore understood, though, and it might have been for the best because Josh was getting into the drug scene, mostly just ‘weed,’ for the moment. Josh’s dad was like that. Theodore had kind of been jealous that Josh lived with his mom and dad, still, but Josh was always complaining about something. Sometimes, Theodore thought Josh only complained to keep him from getting jealous. Whatever the case, Theodore still saw him at school, and Josh would tell him about all these weird conspiracies the government was conducting, like the string of weird ‘isolated incidences’ of a virus occurring nationally.
If it hadn’t been for Josh, Theodore might not have known what to do when the huge outbreak plagued the neighborhood and town. Theodore had debated going to school that morning, but he did that every morning. Something seemed wrong, but didn’t it always? It was obvious he had made the wrong choice before he even got to the school. Something really was wrong. Everything was a fucking mess, and if he wanted to remember even half of it, he couldn’t. Adrenalin set in like fire. He had to go home, but the scenario wasn’t even close to how Theodore had pictured it—the one where he saves his mother, and they live happily ever after. It was a terrifying experience with his mother locked in the bedroom while her own daughter had been left for dead with a hideous monster, the ‘Lurkafied’ version of Isabel’s supposed father, and by the time he convinced his mother she could come out, the only clear memory he had was the hesitation in his muscles before he bashed his three year old sister’s head open.
Somehow, Theodore’s mother was able to beg a ‘client’ for mercy inside one of those rich Washington D.C. houses. The guy was oldish and cold and somehow, Theodore saw less of his mother than when she was selling herself on the streets. It didn’t matter much. He spent most of his time groveling over everything, like he had expected this kind of shit to happen any day, now, just not the part where he’d have to murder his baby sister while his mother left her completely defenseless like a fucking coward. She never held it against him, though, and she was weirdly happier, until they were eventually shuffled into a Safety Shelter.
His mother being roughly thirty years old allowed Theodore and her to cut through some of the red tape by lying and saying they were siblings. The sob story of parents dying during the attack made authorities take more sympathy on them. Of course, as history repeats itself, Theodore watched as his mother slipped back into old habits—even after she almost died during some withdrawal (apparently, she and the rich, D.C. guy were unsurprisingly hopping up together). It was weird, but it was normal. This shit was all Theodore knew. He knew it wasn’t good. It was far from it, really, but his whole life had been some fucked up lie with crumbs of hope he’d desperately pick up because he had nothing better to do or maybe he just wanted to believe there was something better out there. So, eight years later, and he is still picking up those crumbs of hope. He sure as Hell isn’t a saint, though.
Goal: Survive and find a better future
Equipment: +9 mm 115 Grain (46 Rounds - stolen), Three (3) Single Edge Razor Blades, scavenged business card holder (used as a mirror and hard edge), bandana
Weapons: Smith & Wesson Model 59 (specialized), Steel Switchblade Knife (secondary)
Skills: Firearms (expert); Stamina (advanced); Brawl (advanced); Stealth (novice); Mechanics (novice)
Family: Mother - Claire Lawson (alive); Sister - Isabel Lawson (deceased)
Miscellaneous: After being able to get a job as a Loader for transportation, Theodore has been able to steal various things for survival.
Name: Hunter
Age: 8
Gender: Male
Class: Greaser
Occupation: N/A
Personality: As a brazen, out-spoken boy with a tendency to bite off more than he can actually chew, Hunter can be quite the trouble maker. He’s proud about it, too. He’s also still on the short side, but he doesn’t mind the jeers or comments. He uses the insults about his age and height as fuel for the fire. He’ll even whip-up a lie about the one time he took out a horde of Lurkers all by himself. He doesn’t care if he gets called out on it, either. He’s in it for the long run and doesn’t have time for nitty, gritty details of truth. All that matters is people think he’s tough as shit (even if he is a bit on the puny side). Sure, his bark might be worse than his bite, but that doesn’t mean his bite is worthless. He’s brave and ruthless and to hell doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty.
Background: ‘I killed my own fucking mom,’ is one of Hunters’s favorite backstories, ‘When I was a mother fuckin’ baby, too!’ It’s a bit of a stretch, obviously, but he’s not all that wrong. His mother died giving birth to him in a Safety Shelter. It was probably her death that sparked the initiative for his father to get the hell out of the military compound. It was a suicide mission to do something so drastic. A single father and his prone-to-crying baby. The starvation helped in that way; a dying baby is less ruckus. However, Lurkers have keen noses. If it weren’t for a Grease Gang doing its usual rounds, Hunter and his father would have been as good as devoured.
There was something about that, though—the whole bravery part that Hunter’s father made sure to instill into his son. Maybe, he went a little too far, because by the looks of Hunter he sure has a big ego and too tough of an attitude for a child his age, but considering the circumstances, the eight year old has a better chance at survival during an apocalypse than any of the eight year olds did back in his father’s day. The Greaser Gang isn’t too large, but it’s sustainable. There’s a mixture of humans—for better or for worse. There aren’t many children in the Gang, but Hunter’s still under the massive impression he needs to stand-out.
He’s known to sneak out with the ‘Big Boys’ during raids and hunting and other such tasks. He’s proven himself, but that’s not saying he’s the most capable. His unruly behavior has warranted much unnecessary attention, but in Hunter’s eyes, all attention is good attention, unless it’s coming from the Lurkers or the evil Govvies. Hunter’s determined to ‘be a legend.’ With that said, it’s presumably safe to assume the boy is missing a bit more than a few kinks in his brain.
Hunter isn’t too good at sympathizing or empathizing, but he’s not a pure cold hearted child. He’s just naive to the brutality he’s being raised in, and if anyone tried to scold him for any such trait, he’d merely brush it off as one of his superior traits—the ability to survive a little bullshit when everyone else is being a stick in the mud. His father is aware that Hunter’s personality can be more than annoying, but guilt keeps him from being too hard on the boy. A child needs some sort of outlet for happiness, right?
Goal: Die a legend
Equipment: Cloister GQ-50X Dirt Bike, Moto Goggles, Whistle, JanSport Backpack: Handy Gloves, Leather Hat, Half-Used First Aid Kit, 50ish Rounds of 40gr LN .22 LR Ammo, Makeshift Mask, Spare Cloth, Canteen of Water, Flare gun, nail clippers, Mentholatum.
Weapons: Ruger 10/22 Rifle (specialized), Survivor Hatchet (secondary), Scout Knife (Secondary)
Skills: Bluff (expert); Firearms (advanced); Axemanship (advanced); Survival (adept); Riding (adept); Craftsmanship (novice); First Aid (novice)
Family: Father - Jonathan Brown (alive); Mother - Natalie Brown (deceased)
Miscellaneous: Hunter's father decided not to give him a last name. Last names were a 'Thing of the Past' in his eyes; the idea was a middle finger to the government--letting his wife 'die like that.'