"We fight for a brighter future! And, ya know, 'cuz we don't want our heads to explode."
The Premise:
It is the year 2032. The world lives in an era of relative peace, under the watchful eye of the World Government. Technology has continued to advance at a breakneck pace. Miracle medicines, robotic wonders and weapons of incomprehensible destruction are becoming more and more common. You are an ordinary citizen of this united earth. Every day life is mundane to the point of boredom. Nothing ever seems to go wrong. The world is a perfectly ordinary place. Or, it was, until the Hexagon appeared. Hanging high above the city of New Zion, the capital of the world, was a sprawling spaceship in the shape of a hexagon. The six sided monstrosity of a construct dwarfed the entire city in size and scope, easily stretching out over the island cradle that held the crown of earth.
No one knew where it came from or why it had appeared. Politicians, scientists, and generals scrambled to discover the meaning of this interstellar intrusion in earth's atmosphere. Panic rose up in the streets of New Zion, forcing the World Government to bring martial law down upon it's citizens. Many attempted to flee the capital, fearing the worst. No one made it out. The Hexagon shrouded the city in an invisible field that locked it's close to twenty two million strong population inside. Terror spread over the world. They were not alone in the universe, and it appeared that they did not come in peace.
You were not among the panicked masses trying to flee New Zion. For whatever reason, fate deemed you worthy of something...greater. When the Hexagon appeared, it launched eight pods from it's bays. The pods landed all throughout New Zion. Perhaps one crashed into your apartment. Or maybe it landed on the front of your car. Whatever the case, you were the first to reach the strange, egg-like projectile that fell from the heavens. When the pod opened, you found a weapon hidden within it. Touching the tool of destruction, you found your mind and body altered forever. It formed a bond with you. Wires slunk beneath your flesh. Technology dug it's way into your brain and gave you memories that were not yours. Armor formed over your body, becoming one with your bone and sinew. You were made new by this strange, alien technology...
...And the Aliens hunted you because of it.
Out of Character Info:
Hi there! I'm Superboy, and I'm here to (hopefully) show you a good time! This is my first attempt at GMing, so I ask that you bear with me. Here's the gist of what Cosmic Warriors(tm) will be about.
We are a group of eight people that were caught in the middle of, seemingly, an alien invasion. Tensions are running high throughout the city, and the populace of the world is in a panic as officials race to learn what the Hexagon is and why it's holding New Zion hostage.
For whatever, your character was (un)lucky enough to be th first to arrive at the crash site of one of the eight pods launched by the Hexagon. These pods each contained a singular weapon of your choice. Upon touching the weapon, your character's mind and body became one with it's systems.
Aside from giving you a kick ass armored shell, the weapon also significantly altered your physiology and biology. Your character can jump higher, hit harder, and run faster than any other person on the planet. General power levels are gonna be pretty high for this RP. Don't be surprised if a character accidentally knocks down an apartment building with a single swing.
The story is going to start immediately after you retrieve your weapon and are transformed by it. Our first arc will involve moving around New Zion and trying to learn why all this crazy shit is happening. You can expect things to get fairly...stellar later on, if you catch my drift.
Inspirations for this RP include: The Magical Girl genre, Gurren Lagann, a lil' bit of Kill La Kill, Sci-Fi in general, and a powerful dose of insanity.
Da Rules:
Now don't worry, I'm not much of a stickler for rules n' guidelines. On most things, you can probably rely on common sense and be right 99.9% of the time. Following the site's rules and asking questions when you're not sure will go a long way for ya.
Mainly, I'm hoping everyone can get at least one post out a week. Slow posting is what kills good RPs, and I don't want that for this. If you miss the posting deadline without first talking to me, I'll do what I have to to keep the RP moving along. So, if you don't want to get pushed to the side, stay up to date!
In regards to length, I'm a little more scrutinizing than I probably should be. One liners are super lazy and really don't add anything to an RP, so if you had a tendency to only write one or two sentences, this ain't the place for you. I'd like everyone to shoot for at least one whole paragraph at minimum. That's five-six good sentences. However, I don't think one can adequately flesh out a character by only posting a single paragraph once a week. The more detail you put into things, the happier I'll be!
Character Sheet:
[Appearance] Include Height and Weight.
Name: Self explanatory Gender: See Above Age: I won't put an age cap on this one, but be reasonable. Toddlers and old men aren't gonna be fighting aliens too well.
Personality:
Gimme the bullet points for this one. Major character traits should do.
Item A
Item B
Item C
Background:
Tell me a bit about your character's past.
Weapon:
The weapon your character found within his or her pod. It can be anything from a scythe, a sword or a gun. Just give it a high tech edge and make it anime as hell, and I'll be happy. I'm hoping not to get too many repeat weapons, so keep an eye out on other character sheets.
Talents and Skills:
What sorts of things does your character excel at? Don't feel obligated to include things like martial arts training or anything like that if you don't want to. Our characters will all be on relatively equal footing, combat wise, when the game starts off.
[HIDER=Character Sheet][CENTER][b][Appearance][/b] [sub]Only Anime Face Claims. Include Height and Weight.[/sub][/CENTER][ hr][ hr] [b]Name:[/b] Self explanatory [b]Gender:[/b] See Above [b]Age:[/b] I won't put an age cap on this one, but be reasonable. Toddlers and old men aren't gonna be fighting aliens too well.
[b]Personality:[/b][INDENT]Gimme the bullet points for this one. Major character traits should do. [list] [*] Item A [*] Item B [*] Item C [/list] [/INDENT] [b]Background:[/b][INDENT]Tell me a bit about your character's past.[/INDENT]
[b]Weapon:[/b][INDENT]The weapon your character found within his or her pod. It can be anything from a scythe, a sword or a gun. Just give it a high tech edge and make it anime as hell, and I'll be happy. I'm hoping not to get too many repeat weapons, so keep an eye out on other character sheets.[/INDENT]
[b]Talents and Skills:[/b][INDENT]What sorts of things does your character excel at? Don't feel obligated to include things like martial arts training or anything like that if you don't want to. Our characters will all be on relatively equal footing, combat wise, when the game starts off.[/INDENT][/HIDER]
"We fight for a brighter future! And, ya know, 'cuz we don't want our heads to explode."
The Premise:
It is the year 2032. The world lives in an era of relative peace now, under the watchful eye of the World Government. Technology has continued to advance at a breakneck pace. Miracle medicines, robotic wonders and weapons of incomprehensible destruction are becoming more and more common. You are an ordinary citizen of this united earth. After the terrifying reality that was the end of the world, everything else feels...inconsequential by comparison. Every day life is mundane to the point of boredom, now. Nothing ever seems to go wrong anymore. No more war. No more violence. No one had to hide beneath the covers, praying their country wasn't bathed in nuclear fire. The world is, now, a perfectly ordinary place.
Or, it was, until the Hexagon appeared. Hanging high above the city of New Zion, the capital of the world, was a sprawling spaceship in the shape of a hexagon. The five sided monstrosity of a construct dwarfed the entire city in size and scope, easily stretching out over the island cradle that held the crown of earth.
No one knew where it came from or why it had appeared. Politicians, scientists, and generals scrambled to discover the meaning of this interstellar intrusion in earth's atmosphere. Panic rose up in the streets of New Zion, forcing the World Government to bring martial law down upon it's citizens. Many attempted to flee the capital, fearing the worst. No one made it out. The Hexagon shrouded the city in an invisible field that locked it's close to twenty two million strong population inside. Terror spread over the world. They were not alone in the universe, and it appeared that they did not come in peace.
You were not among the panicked masses trying to flee New Zion. For whatever reason, fate deemed you worthy of something...greater. When the Hexagon appeared, it launched eight pods from it's bays. The pods landed all throughout New Zion. Perhaps one crashed into your apartment. Or maybe it landed on the front of your car. Whatever the case, you were the first to reach the strange, egg-like projectile that fell from the heavens. When the pod opened, you found a weapon hidden within it. Touching the tool of destruction, you found your mind and body altered forever. It formed a bond with you. Wires slunk beneath your flesh. Technology dug it's way into your brain and gave you memories that were not yours. Armor formed over your body, becoming one with your bone and sinew. You were made new by this strange, alien technology...
...And the Aliens hunted you because of it.
Our World:
On September 8th, 2005, chaos ignited the world afire. North Korea launched a nuclear strike against South Korea, devastating the entire country and washing it in radioactive pyre. The United States and her allies were quick to respond, rallying a massive coalition to take down the rogue nation. A million boots hit the ground, stormed Pyongyang, and devastated the armies of it's dictator. The fighting was quick and brutal, leaving hundreds of thousands dead over the course of three short months. North Korea fell, and her leader captured, but that was not the end of the conflict.
Russian and Chinese collaborators bickered with their western counterparts over what should be done with the occupied land. The Eastern Bloc wanted to absorb it into their countries, splitting Korea evenly between them. NATO wanted to establish a democratic puppet state, uniting the North and South into a single, new regime. Tensions rose in the region as Chinese soldiers forcibly occupied the capital. Russian battleships barricaded relief boats, citing that Korea would only be assisted and repaired by the East. A foolhardy American captain attempted to run the blockade. His ship was blown apart by the Russians, and war was all but guaranteed.
World War Three had begun. The sides were drawn, and nuclear weapons were polished as the nations of earth readied to drown the whole planet in bloodshed. Armies met, first, in the Korean peninsula. The fighting was bloody, and every battle was a pitched one. Neither side could get the upper hand. More theaters opened up across Europe, Asia, and Africa as time went on. By 2008, Russian forces were clashing with American and Canadian garrisons in Alaska. The death toll was catastrophic. Over 120 million were dead within three years of the first gunshot. It was a miracle neither side had launched their arsenal of nuclear arms. The threat of mutually assured destruction kept even the most trigger happy world leaders from using their most powerful weapons, even as the conflict waged on.
In 2016, the world had enough of death. Citizens within every country involved in the fighting rose up, with a single voice, demanding their world leaders bring an end to their petty squabbles. Billions of people found themselves united under the singular banner of peace. Riots spread throughout the world. Capitals burned, presidents were executed, and chaos reigned. It wasn't until 2018 that the nations of the world relented. Their guns were thrown down, and the rivers of blood rose no higher. Radical changes were made to the way things were done to prevent another war like it. No one wanted to destroy the planet. Things needed to change.
And so, they did. The United Nations became the One World Government. Every nation bowed the knee, and was offered a spot on it's council. Those that resisted the unification were eventually forced into the fold by the armies of the O.W.G. The near end of the world was still fresh in the minds of all as steps were taken to rebuild, and repair, the broken planet they called home. 2020 saw the construction of a man made island in the center of the Atlantic ocean. Almost overnight, a massive city was built upon it, and New Zion became the seat of the world government.
Twelve years have passed since New Zion was built. Twenty two million people left their home countries and flocked to this great city of the future. Construction is always ongoing within New Zion, with new skyscrapers being erected almost every day. Hope was beginning to return. An uneasy peace had settled in, and people were beginning to think the worst was behind them..
No one knows what it is. No one knows why it came. The massive, six-sided super structure that hangs above the city of New Zion stretches for miles in every direction. The alien craft casts a looming shadow over New Zion, even in the middle of the day. Force fields, unseen by the naked human eye, surround the island. No one has been able to pass through it, and any attempt to break the invisible shield has been fruitless. The New World Government is rushing to learn more about the object and whatever, or whoever, had brought it there. Attempts to communicate with it have, so far, been met with silence. Military force is strongly being considered, but with New Zion held hostage, the N.W.G's hands are tied. The world waits with bated breath to see what becomes of this alien craft and their capital city.
During the chaos of the Hexagon's arrival, eight egg-like compartments were launched from within the Hexagon. Their landing went unseen by officials within the city. These pods were scattered across New Zion, landing in relative isolation. Only a few individuals were around to find them. Upon proximity to organic life, they opened. Sitting within each egg was a strange, high tech weapon of varying design. Some found a reaping scythes. Others, a sword or a spear.
Whatever was hidden within the pod, they all had one thing in common: on contact with a human host, the weapon connected to them. Mentally and physically, sword and man bonded into one being. It became apart of it's host, and it's host a part of it. Cybernetic augments changed the interior biology and physiology of each recipient. It gave the wielder hyper enhanced strength, speed, and senses, as well as gifted them with a metallic carapace to protect them from harm.
Little is known about the weapons or why they bond with humans. Their capabilities are mostly a mystery, even to the wielders. What is know, however, is that the tools have turned ordinary people into unstoppable, super powered beings of incredible strength. They can topple buildings, rend metal with their bare hands, and run faster than a speeding bullet train.
Secretary General Howard Stain- Age 61, the Secretary General of the New World Government doesn't hold an incredible amount of power within the organization. He acts as the head of military matters and holds the deciding vote in Council meetings, but most of Stain's job is public relations. He is a head of state, and works to keep an open dialogue between the N.W.G and it's populace.
Commander Gerard "Madman" Troi- Commanding officer of the New Zion garrison. Commander Troi, 38, is renowned for his fearlessness, and the brash disregard for high command's orders. He used to be a field general, but was demoted to Garrison Commander after personally leading an army of six hundred men into a two thousand strong revolutionary camp, despite being ordered to pull back. He won the day, just barely, and potentially saved the lives of tens of thousands of civilians in the nearby city, but his actions were far from celebrated by the brass.
Mayor Emilia Burke- At only 31 years old, Burke is one of the youngest women in the N.W.G political bloc. She is the mayor of New Zion, and is largely responsible for the rapid growth of the brand new city. Her cunning political movements and smart use of budgeting has expanded New Zion into one of the most influential and populace city's on earth.
Da Rules:
Now don't worry, I'm not much of a stickler for rules n' guidelines. On most things, you can probably rely on common sense and be right 99.9% of the time. Following the site's rules and asking questions when you're not sure will go a long way for ya.
Mainly, I'm hoping everyone can get at least one post out a week. Slow posting is what kills good RPs, and I don't want that for this. If you miss the posting deadline without first talking to me, I'll do what I have to to keep the RP moving along. So, if you don't want to get pushed to the side, stay up to date!
In regards to length, I'm a little more scrutinizing than I probably should be. One liners are super lazy and really don't add anything to an RP, so if you had a tendency to only write one or two sentences, this ain't the place for you. I'd like everyone to shoot for at least one whole paragraph at minimum. That's five-six good sentences. However, I don't think one can adequately flesh out a character by only posting a single paragraph once a week. The more detail you put into things, the happier I'll be!
Character Sheet:
[Appearance] Include Height and Weight.
Name: Self explanatory Gender: See Above Age: I won't put an age cap on this one, but be reasonable. Toddlers and old men aren't gonna be fighting aliens too well.
Personality:
Gimme the bullet points for this one. Major character traits should do.
Item A
Item B
Item C
Background:
Tell me a bit about your character's past.
Weapon:
The weapon your character found within his or her pod. It can be anything from a scythe, a sword or a gun. Just give it a high tech edge and make it anime as hell, and I'll be happy. I'm hoping not to get too many repeat weapons, so keep an eye out on other character sheets.
Talents and Skills:
What sorts of things does your character excel at? Don't feel obligated to include things like martial arts training or anything like that if you don't want to. Our characters will all be on relatively equal footing, combat wise, when the game starts off.
[HIDER=Character Sheet][CENTER][b][Appearance][/b] [sub]Only Anime Face Claims. Include Height and Weight.[/sub][/CENTER][ hr][ hr] [b]Name:[/b] Self explanatory [b]Gender:[/b] See Above [b]Age:[/b] I won't put an age cap on this one, but be reasonable. Toddlers and old men aren't gonna be fighting aliens too well.
[b]Personality:[/b][INDENT]Gimme the bullet points for this one. Major character traits should do. [list] [*] Item A [*] Item B [*] Item C [/list] [/INDENT] [b]Background:[/b][INDENT]Tell me a bit about your character's past.[/INDENT]
[b]Weapon:[/b][INDENT]The weapon your character found within his or her pod. It can be anything from a scythe, a sword or a gun. Just give it a high tech edge and make it anime as hell, and I'll be happy. I'm hoping not to get too many repeat weapons, so keep an eye out on other character sheets.[/INDENT]
[b]Talents and Skills:[/b][INDENT]What sorts of things does your character excel at? Don't feel obligated to include things like martial arts training or anything like that if you don't want to. Our characters will all be on relatively equal footing, combat wise, when the game starts off.[/INDENT][/HIDER]
The crimson source of all life flowed off Graves's body like a river. His broad shoulders hefted violently with each uneven breath as he stood atop the corpse of a monster twice his size. The damned ogre had come out of nowhere. It came up through the floor of all places. Graves and his allies were caught off guard by the swift and brutal ambush. Two burrowed giants, one from either side, and a murder of goblin marksmen coming at them from above. A classic killbox if Graves had ever seen one; problem was, Graves had never seen monsters employ this kinda strategy in Pariah. He was lucky his party wasn't full of complete hacks, or they'd probably be reviving half the back line instead of reveling in their victory.
"Everbody alright?" The Blood Knight's gravely rose rose just enough to echo to the back of the party.
With panted breaths, Graves placed both hands upon the hilt of his pike. He hefted up, his vein-covered forearms straining to rip the ax blade free from the dead ogre's shattered skull. Flicking the brain matter off the edge of his pole arm, their half giant of a tank turned around to address Rael. Graves was still coming off the high of combat, and needed to take a moment to calm himself before responding to her concerns. As always, the off tank had worn a wicked grin all throughout the encounter, his berserker screams only ever broken up by the need to shout commands at his incompetent backliners when something went awry.
"Yeah, you were right." Graves agreed, running a hand over his chest in a mostly vain attempt to wipe the blood from his bare abdomen. Most of it belonged to the ogre he'd slaughtered, but the Knight had suffered a fair few blows during the exchange. Arrows still stuck in his back, and blows from the ogre's huge club had fucked his ribs up royally. "Since when did these stupid bastards get brains?"
It was actually fascinating to the tank how lucky they were nobody went down. A horde of archers from above and two gigantic damage soakers to either side, in a relatively cramped hallway, would've spelled a wipe- or at the very least, causalities- in any other party. Maybe Graves was underestimating the rest of his team too much; though the Blood Knight doubted it was more than blind luck on the part of...some of them.
Graves gave a quick whistle, glancing over his shoulder at Elian. "Yo, elfy. If you'd be so kind as to do your job so we can get a move on, I would be very grateful." The tank's words were dripping with sarcasm; he was loathe to admit the woman had likely contributed a fair bit to the party's survival. She might be an alright healer, he supposed, but even that half assed of a compliment would go straight to the dancer's head. "Everybody else, take a breather. Shit only gets worse from here." He moved away from the front of the party and to the back, hoping his partner tank had things covered for the time being. Graves didn't think the monsters would attack again so soon, but...in this dungeon, one couldn't be too careful.
Once he was beside the much smaller, less intimidating dodge tank, Graves lowered his voice so only she could hear him. "You think there was a ghost patch? Developer tossed in new tactics for all monsters?" The Knight asked Rael, unsure what he thought of the whole thing. "Could be just for this dungeon, too,...which is almost fuckin' worse."
The crimson source of all life flowed off Graves's body like a river. His broad shoulders hefted violently with each uneven breath as he stood atop the corpse of a monster twice his size. The damned ogre had come out of nowhere. It came up through the floor of all places. Graves and his allies were caught off guard by the swift and brutal ambush. Two burrowed giants, one from either side, and a murder of goblin marksmen coming at them from above. A classic killbox if Graves had ever seen one; problem was, Graves had never seen monsters employ this kinda strategy in Pariah. He was lucky his party wasn't full of complete hacks, or they'd probably be reviving half the back line instead of reveling in their victory.
"Everbody alright?" The Blood Knight's gravely rose rose just enough to echo to the back of the party.
With panted breaths, Graves placed both hands upon the hilt of his pike. He hefted up, his vein-covered forearms straining to rip the ax blade free from the dead ogre's shattered skull. Flicking the brain matter off the edge of his pole arm, their half giant of a tank turned around to address Rael. Graves was still coming off the high of combat, and needed to take a moment to calm himself before responding to her concerns. As always, the off tank had worn a wicked grin all throughout the encounter, his berserker screams only ever broken up by the need to shout commands at his incompetent backliners when something went awry.
"Yeah, you were right." Graves agreed, running a hand over his chest in a mostly vain attempt to wipe the blood from his bare abdomen. Most of it belonged to the ogre he'd slaughtered, but the Knight had suffered a fair few blows during the exchange. Arrows still stuck in his back, and blows from the ogre's huge club had fucked his ribs up royally. "Since when did these stupid bastards get brains?"
It was actually fascinating to the tank how lucky they were nobody went down. A horde of archers from above and two gigantic damage soakers to either side, in a relatively cramped hallway, would've spelled a wipe- or at the very least, causalities- in any other party. Maybe Graves was underestimating the rest of his team too much; though the Blood Knight doubted it was more than blind luck on the part of...some of them.
Graves gave a quick whistle, glancing over his shoulder at Elian. "Yo, elfy. If you'd be so kind as to do your job so we can get a move on, I would be very grateful." The tank's words were dripping with sarcasm; he was loathe to admit the woman had likely contributed a fair bit to the party's survival. She might be an alright healer, he supposed, but even that half assed of a compliment would go straight to the dancer's head. "Everybody else, take a breather. Shit only gets worse from here." He moved away from the front of the party and to the back, hoping his partner tank had things covered for the time being. Graves didn't think the monsters would attack again so soon, but...in this dungeon, one couldn't be too careful.
Once he was beside the much smaller, less intimidating dodge tank, Graves lowered his voice so only she could hear him. "You think there was a ghost patch? Developer tossed in new tactics for all monsters?" The Knight asked Rael, unsure what he thought of the whole thing. [color=Graves]"Could be just for this dungeon, too,...which is almost fuckin' worse."[/color]
Andrew's defining trait is his height. Measuring in at six feet and four inches tall, he naturally draws in the eye with his towering height. His appearance is made all the more striking by just how thin his frame is. Gray can't count the number of times he's heard the 'how's the weather up there?' line, though he knows he gets it almost as much as the 'do you play basketball?' question. He finds his height to be obnoxious, more than anything- but the same can't be said for his weight. Lacking any muscle at all, Andrew's incredibly self conscious about just how thin he is. No one wants to appear weak.
That's where he and his avatar in Pariah differ.
While Graves and Andrew share equal height, his in-game persona possesses a far larger frame. A chest as broad as an ox and muscle like coiled iron, Graves is a force to be reckoned with. The imagined character was designed to compensate for it's designer's perceived flaws, granting Gray the physical strength he's only ever dreamed of wielding.
Other differences are more aesthetic in their reasoning. Andrew abandoned his painfully average dark hair in favor of a brighter, sleeker silver. It's equally as long, and often kept up in the same messy ponytail that Andrew has grown so accustomed to both in and out of game. His eyes remain the same shade of blue, though they're a great deal sharper and more confident when he's Graves, the legendary bounty hunter rather than Andrew, the gas station clerk.
Personality
Graves is everything that Andrew is not. Where Andrew is meek and quiet, Graves is confident and boisterous.
He is without inhibitions; unconstrained by societal norms or fear of reprisal from others. Graves does whatever he wishes and anyone that doesn't follow him can either get the hell out of his way or be ran over. Many consider this behavior to be destructive and backwards. His abrasive bluntness catches many off guard, and has on more than one occasion gotten Graves into a fight with someone who didn't wish to deal with his arrogance.
In his actual life, Andrew despises confrontation. In game, he thrives on it. Combat is visceral, and it allows him to live out every power fantasy he's ever craved. To be strong, to be confident, to have a place in the world. All of the pent up aggression and hostility that Gray has internalized for so long can be released in an act of savage violence.
He has little time to service others, caring for himself above all else. Graves doesn't waste time helping those who cannot offer him something in return. With an endless world of possibilities at his fingertips, there's far too much to do in Pariah to lose even an hour on something he cares little for. Someone else will come along to help; they always do.
One trait that Andrew shares with his counterpart is his love of solitude. Though Pariah is meant to be a shared experience, Graves spends much of it wandering the expansive environments alone. Companions slow him down. Party members falter and fail whenever Graves counts on them. When he's going solo, Graves doesn't have to worry about watching someone's back, and the blame for his failings can fall on his shoulders alone.
Background
Andrew was born in a little town in Ohio to two loving parents and eight siblings. He was unlucky enough to be one of the middle children, so it was no surprise when he was overshadowed by his more talented and capable siblings.
His town was small, and his high school even smaller- which meant finding friends and penetrating the normal clichés was quite difficult for someone that had gotten used to quietly observing. Gray wasn’t exactly an introvert. He could be loud, excitable and social- but he just…never got the chance to. He didn’t have many friends at all.
That is, until he had scrounged up enough cash for his first MMO. He used his low grade laptop to play the game at its lowest settings; it was choppy, constantly lagged and rather ugly…but he loved it. He loved everything about the game. Gray retreated from his less than stellar normal life into the world of a generic role playing game. He ignored his tanking grades, few acquaintances and boisterous family to play for hours on end.
He started off grinding on his own, as most do. But he chanced upon a party of likeminded individuals that needed a secondary tank. Andrew melded seamlessly into their company. They were all chill people, for the most part, and willing to help teach him how to play the game properly.
They continued to play together for months, the size of the group ever expanding as they built up a sizable guild of their own. Andrew became near addicted to raiding. Fighting bosses was the most visceral and exciting experience he’d ever had in a game.
Eventually Andrew was (somehow) able to graduate high school and purchase a real computer. All was well for him. His family only occasionally harassed him for being a bum. He had a steady job at a backwater gas station, making minimum wage for very little work. He had made a decent circle of friends for himself within the guild. Life was simple; it was good.
Things didn't stay that way forever.
It started off as something infinitesimally small. A couple of arguments over petty issues. Andrew tried not to get involved, most of the time; he just wanted to focus on playing the game and enjoying himself. But as time passed, the arguments grew in number. They got more serious. Issues between his friends grew; problems from a past that Andrew wasn't around for reared their ugly heads. All of it was stupid and inane, in his eyes. He did his best to act as a mediator when he could, but it rarely worked.
Things came to a head when a shouting match over voice comms ended with the guild's leader- and Andrew's closest personal friend- leaving the guild in the hand's of his second. Things fell apart from there as him stepping down only furthered the divides between the others. One by one, the original group Andrew had joined left. Contact became sparse, and then they all went radio silent. This thing that had consumed Andrew's life for the better part of a few years was now gone, and there was...a void.
Andrew hadn't felt this alone in a long time. He quietly retreated further into himself. Months passed with his life being little more than keeping to himself and working a dead end job with no future in sight. It wasn't until the local game store announced that they'd received a shipment of VR headsets and were planning to hold a giveaway to celebrate that things changed for him. Andrew entered the giveaway, and he won! A copy of one of the most hyped MMOs in history came with an equally desired piece of hardware worth obscene amounts of money. Andrew didn't waste any time throwing himself into the game.
Reputation
Graves is not a widely known name due to how much he keeps to himself. His infamy has been growing recently, however, among the more attentive members of the bounty hunting community. The profession is used by a large chunk of the player base; however, the few hundred or so individuals that claims to be 'professional bounty hunters' are a highly competitive and inclusive group. So when some no name young blood starts snatching up important contracts and taking down a high level bosses and esteemed players, the smarter heads start to turn. He's an above average raider that joins public groups, dominates his enemies and takes what he needs before disappearing again.
Andrew is above average at best. He's no professional, and lacks the experience or gear to take on the really big names.
Yet.
He's dedicated himself to becoming the absolute strongest hunter in the game, and he's going to do it by almost any means necessary. The only thing he's wary of is teaming up with other players. He's partied up a handful of times, but never long enough to get attached- he knows where that particular road leads.
However, there are some obstacles which cannot be overcome alone. Some enemies cannot be defeated through sheer force of will and hours of scrolling through guides and wikis online. On occasion, Graves has to team up with others- usually to do bosses or gank unsuspecting targets that he can't beat alone. His temporary help always gets a 'piece of the pie' so to speak; he makes sure they get something out of the effort, even if he doesn't plan to stick around for very long.
Attribues & Additional Information
Role
Tank
Affiliation
Sikth
Profession
Bounty Hunter
Weapon of Choice
A halberd he affectionately refers to as his 'pike'
Domain(s)
Water Drain
Benchmarks (Physical)
Tough Skin: Graves is naturally more durable than other non-tank characters. He doesn't wear particularly heavy armor; however, his naturally high health pool allows him to take incredible amounts of damage for a character with relatively low defense gear. The trade of for this is he's weighs a hell of a lot more than other classes, and is thus slower and can be kited by ranged or agile enemies. He gained this trait through hundreds of hours of getting the shit kicked out of him without armor on, which has led to increased durability without the need for heavy armors.
Potion Addict: Graves has been relying on potions for his tanking abilities since he started playing Pariah. After chugging down countless elixirs, his physiology has an easier time adapting to the ingested liquids. Potions last longer and are more potent on Graves than others. A small side effect being that Graves can’t function very well without them in his system. He usually carries potions for lifesteal, iron skin and healing- to make him even harder to kill.
Blood In The Water: Much like a shark, Graves gets a sort of sixth 'sense' whenever a target is bleeding. It allows him to track them within twenty five meters (doubles if he was the one that made them bleed); it's less like echo location and more like a compass that points him in their general direction. It won't reveal the exact position of a hiding enemy, nor does it tell Graves if they are above or below him- simply where they would be on a two dimensional field. Dozens of hours of trying to hunt down that last monster for his bounty hunting quest has made the tank a decent enough tracker.
Enhanced Strength: The weapons and armor used by a tank are heavy. Graves is required to have above average physical strength if he wants to use them effectively. This also means he's able to carry more (when not impeded by his regular gear) and hits slightly harder with unarmed attacks.
Executioner: Graves tends to fight harder when his enemy his on the back foot. He pushes his advantage and attempts to go for killing blows as often as possible. A slew of decapitated and mutilated foes behind him, Graves has learned how to more effectively hurt enemies that are already wounded. Enemies very close to death's door take more damage from Graves' attacks, although he also heals less off of them and takes more damage from them- so he has to be careful with certain monster types or enemies with 'deathrattles.'
Benchmarks (Mental)
Monster Bestiary: Graves has studied the average field and dungeons mobs extensively. He has a fairly good grasp on what most common enemies are capable of, what their weaknesses are, ect. More rare beasts, especially those he isn't high enough level to be fighting anyway, wouldn't apply.
Boss Bestiary: Graves is a raider at heart. He loves MMOs for the massive, titanic battles between huge parties and giant bosses. It's his favorite part of Pariah. Thus, he's invested quite a bit of time into learning some of the boss enemies in the game. The tougher, higher end leviathans that require teamwork, determination and raw power to defeat. Knowledge is power in these sort of encounters, and Graves has made sure he knows about the general workings of the bosses he's likely to face.
Meditative Healing: Since Graves' combat stance is entirely based on healing, he figured he could use an out of combat healing ability too. Essentially, Graves can sit down and focus his magic on repairing his wounds. How long it takes depends on the severity of his injuries. The stance is extremely taxing, takes awhile to start and takes forever to finish if he's hurt- and it can't heal things like broken bones or eviscerated organs. He'll need a real healer for that.
Metalworking: Required field to get to Weapons' Repair. He uses this as a source of income, creating very basic items and selling them either on the market or to NPCs. He would much rather get money from killing mobs all day and pawning off legendary raid items, but sadly working the marketplace is the only real way to get a stable source of income.
Weapons' Repair: Graves likes his Pike. It's his favorite weapon. He isn't very good with much else, and doesn't have a backup for when it breaks. So, instead of constantly paying vendors and other players to fix it for him, he decided to spec into Weapons' Repair and do the damn thing himself.
Location: Bus, destination New York City "The flames of fate kindled..."
Mixed among the sounds of quiet chatter and sputtering engines was a constant, steady flickering of metal. Flint opened, ignited and closed the lighter she held in her fist, repeating the three step process over and over. The Zippo brand igniter was among her favorites. It was bright steel, with one side featuring the Great Seal of the United States while the words "Do or Die" were printed on the opposite side. Supposedly, the lighter used to belong to a pilot back in the Second World War. Judging by the pricing, however, Flint could guess that was bullshit made up to sell it. Whatever, that didn't matter; O'Brien thought it looked cool. She'd bought it online a few years back and hadn't regretted the purchase for a moment.
Flint's gaze was locked firmly on the roof of the bus, her mind in another place. She was mentally going over the events that had taken place so far. The hero organization had their orientation held in the middle of nowhere, and had the apprentices stay in a grimy, second rate hotel before and after the event. Flint was used to such conditions, but she hadn't expected it from the way the recruiter spoke. O'Brien had kept to herself throughout the trip for the most part. The majority of her peers were plucky, incompetent doofuses that were all heart and no muscle. They wouldn't last a second in the real world. No amount of desire to be a hero could overcome a total lack of skill or natural ability. Orientation was mostly bog standard. She didn't learn much about what she'd be doing aside from the bare basics of it all. It would've been painfully boring, if not for the fight that broke out between two of the tougher looking wannabe sidekicks. They kept the whole thing from being a complete snorefest, thankfully.
The boy sitting next to her was among the individuals Flint didn't think would last. Tempest, she believed his name was, was about as tough as a kitten and looked like his bones were made of glass. They briefly spoke earlier, but O'Brien found it difficult to remain cordial, so she dropped the conversation to avoid damaging glass boy's feelings. Flint had never been a people person. People let her down, made fun of her and abused her for being different- people sucked ass, generally speaking. The only person O'Brien could ever rely on was herself. Now that she was going to be a superhero, Flint probably needed to curb the cynicism. Heart and morality and all that crap were important to heroes. She'd need to cut down on fighting people, too. Beating up other apprentices for being dumbasses would be a good way to get kicked off the program for good.
It was then that Tempest started to stir. Flint eyed him suspiciously, wondering what the boy was doing when he stood up and tried to shuffle past her. 'Where are you goin'?' She wondered to herself, not bothering to ask him aloud- that required speaking to him again. Without any prior warning, the bus lurched forward. The vehicle rapidly gained speed, forcing Flint back into her seat and knocking Tempest back into his. "Shit-" She grunted, turning her gaze toward the back of the bus to see what was causing the strange burst in velocity. Lo and behold, O'Brien's eyes fell on an armor-wearing woman pressing against the back. Flint blinked, her eyes widening in surprise. "The hell?" She muttered beneath her breath. The mechanized flying hero let go of the bus, causing them to violently lurch and bounce a second time. Flint followed the strange woman until she came up along side them. She saluted the students in the bus before flying off at mach twelve billion.
Flint tightened her gaze as Tempest once more slid past her and clambered over to a different seat, likely so he could speak to the boy he'd been staring at for way too long. Maybe he was gay. That would explain...a couple of different things, in Flint's narrow mind. She turned her attention away from the boy, deciding to slid into his window seat to get a look at the countryside. New York was a gorgeous state. It sucked that most people only cared about the Big Apple when there was so much more to see outside of it. Maybe it was because she grew up there, but Flint never saw what made it so special. She'd rather live out here, in the rolling green hills, than stuffed inside a tiny, rundown apartment in Harlem.
Location: Bus, destination New York City "The flames of fate kindled..."
Mixed among the sounds of quiet chatter and sputtering engines was a constant, steady flickering of metal. Flint opened, ignited and closed the lighter she held in her fist, repeating the three step process over and over. The Zippo brand igniter was among her favorites. It was bright steel, with one side featuring the Great Seal of the United States while the words "Do or Die" were printed on the opposite side. Supposedly, the lighter used to belong to a pilot back in the Second World War. Judging by the pricing, however, Flint could guess that was bullshit made up to sell it. Whatever, that didn't matter; O'Brien thought it looked cool. She'd bought it online a few years back and hadn't regretted the purchase for a moment.
Flint's gaze was locked firmly on the roof of the bus, her mind in another place. She was mentally going over the events that had taken place so far. The hero organization had their orientation held in the middle of nowhere, and had the apprentices stay in a grimy, second rate hotel before and after the event. Flint was used to such conditions, but she hadn't expected it from the way the recruiter spoke. O'Brien had kept to herself throughout the trip for the most part. The majority of her peers were plucky, incompetent doofuses that were all heart and no muscle. They wouldn't last a second in the real world. No amount of desire to be a hero could overcome a total lack of skill or natural ability. Orientation was mostly bog standard. She didn't learn much about what she'd be doing aside from the bare basics of it all. It would've been painfully boring, if not for the fight that broke out between two of the tougher looking wannabe sidekicks. They kept the whole thing from being a complete snorefest, thankfully.
The boy sitting next to her was among the individuals Flint didn't think would last. Tempest, she believed his name was, was about as tough as a kitten and looked like his bones were made of glass. They briefly spoke earlier, but O'Brien found it difficult to remain cordial, so she dropped the conversation to avoid damaging glass boy's feelings. Flint had never been a people person. People let her down, made fun of her and abused her for being different- people sucked ass, generally speaking. The only person O'Brien could ever rely on was herself. Now that she was going to be a superhero, Flint probably needed to curb the cynicism. Heart and morality and all that crap were important to heroes. She'd need to cut down on fighting people, too. Beating up other apprentices for being dumbasses would be a good way to get kicked off the program for good.
It was then that Tempest started to stir. Flint eyed him suspiciously, wondering what the boy was doing when he stood up and tried to shuffle past her. 'Where are you goin'?' She wondered to herself, not bothering to ask him aloud- that required speaking to him again. Without any prior warning, the bus lurched forward. The vehicle rapidly gained speed, forcing Flint back into her seat and knocking Tempest back into his. "Shit-" She grunted, turning her gaze toward the back of the bus to see what was causing the strange burst in velocity. Lo and behold, O'Brien's eyes fell on an armor-wearing woman pressing against the back. Flint blinked, her eyes widening in surprise. "The hell?" She muttered beneath her breath. The mechanized flying hero let go of the bus, causing them to violently lurch and bounce a second time. Flint followed the strange woman until she came up along side them. She saluted the students in the bus before flying off at mach twelve billion.
Flint tightened her gaze as Tempest once more slid past her and clambered over to a different seat, likely so he could speak to the boy he'd been staring at for way too long. Maybe he was gay. That would explain...a couple of different things, in Flint's narrow mind. She turned her attention away from the boy, deciding to slid into his window seat to get a look at the countryside. New York was a gorgeous state. It sucked that most people only cared about the Big Apple when there was so much more to see outside of it. Maybe it was because she grew up there, but Flint never saw what made it so special. She'd rather live out here, in the rolling green hills, than stuffed inside a tiny, rundown apartment in Harlem.
Member
Captain Uni
xVampire3go
Byrd Man
shylarah
Ezekiel
Antlers
Memoria
Natty
Eddie Brock
Ruby
