Post by gearbeard on Nov 1, 2012 21:46:58 GMT -5
Character Sheet Guide
First Name: Tesla
Last Name: Speer
Age: 31
Height: 5' 7"
Weight: 150
Appearance: He wears a brown coat (though not techically a browncoat himself, he was and continues to be a supporter) almost religously, has a shrapnel scar across his left eye from an alliance attack, along with a few minor scars on his hands and forearms from the nature of working with metal. On unfamiliar territory he generally carries a sawed off shotgun for protection, and sometimes will carry a .44 magnum revolver. His hair is usually unkempt, along with his facial hair as he doesnt spend too much time on personal grooming outside of simple cleanliness. Wears a good pair of combat boots and usually some kind of military issued or work pants.
Persuasion: Independents
Military Service: Served under the browncoats in an unofficial fashion repairing ships and in his spare time was attempting to develop a new type of blaster, but without the proper funding and other assistance was unsuccessful. At one point during the climax of the war he almost went to work for the Alliance forces to develop his experimental blaster. Often preferring to be on solid ground, he would be dropped into active warzones to make repairs or set up turrets.
General Skills: Tesla was trained in general electronics by his father from a very early age, and he continued his education to get a degree in Experimental Robotics and Electronics Systems. He can repair almost anything. He also builds and modifies robotic arms for salvage ships and other applications. Having grown up in a rural area, he is also proficient with a rifle and has a good working knowledge of field medicine.
Talents: Plays guitar very well. Has an amazing creative process which allows him to draw up plans and construct new products with relative ease depending on material limitations. An excellent medium to long range shooter.
Flaws: Not a very personable person. While he is generally a good man, he keeps to himself and tries not to get to involved with anyone else. He lacks close quarters combat training, and while he can hold his own against untrained assailants, anyone with close quarters combat training would have a huge advantage.
Personality Traits: Tesla feels very strongly about personal responsibility and freedom. His father raised him to respect life, and as such he is a good hearted caring person. However, throughout most of his later life he was stabbed in the back by friends, neglected and mistreated by the authories, and at one point served a year in jail for an offense he did not commit. This has made him a rather bitter and untrusting person, preferring to focus on his own problems (though he is often unable to ignore the suffering of others). He has a love/hate relationship with space travel...he prefers to be on the ground but also enjoys being close to the multifuntional electronics aboard a ship.
History: Born and raised mostly on Ithaca by his parents, Tesla enjoyed a fairly happy childhood, often helping his father with various projects for either work or pleasure. He built his first functional robotic arm at age 8 (with only minor help from dad) and kept expanding his abilities. He also would frequently go hunting with his uncle, and cherished these times out in the woods. He spent alot of time at a family cabin during his later teen years, often staying months at a time. While on these trips he would shut himself off from everyone to work on his projects and bask in the solitude of nature. Here he would hunt, fish, and farm for his own food, and appreciated being able to care for all his own needs. It is rumored he even managed to build a nearly self-sustaining power generator, but this claim goes unproven. Tesla graduated with just a masters, and was working on his doctoral studies when the war broke out. His father had ties with 'certain independent figures' and thus the ties to the browncoats was made. Teslas father also taught him that survival was more important than fighting, so he kept himself mostly in the shadows, quietly doing his duty under the guise of tutoring students. While he was content with his job, he still dreamed of creating something more. He began working on a propulsion engine (rumored to be based on his previous design for a self-sufficient motor, again unproven), and when that had too many setbacks, began work on the Tesla rifle. This project also went unfinished, barely making it past the concept phase. Towards the climax of the war, Tesla was approached by Alliance spies who offered him all he needed to complete the rifle, and being of the mindset that the Independence was to fall, he almost took them up on their offer, but changed his mind last minute citing conflicts of interest. After this he started taking on more dangerous missions for the browncoats, almost getting killed when a shuttle he was trying to repair was hit by Alliance rockets. Shortly after the war he went to work for a smuggler, and ended up being set-up by said smuggler and his associates. For his crimes he was sentenced to 3 years, of which he served 1 with good behaviour and was released. It is reputed that he refreshed some of his old browncoat contacts while imprisoned, but this also cannot be proven.
RP Sample: I stepped out into the bright afternoon sun. Usually in movies and books the hero would step out into a sunrise on an occasion such as this, but this wasnt a fairtale. It was my life, and today would be my first day of freedom. The heat is instantanious and overwhelming. I am too used to controlled environments, it will take awhile to get used to changing atmos again. I dont really have much of anything with me except a few credits and a name. I was given fairly clear instructions on how to find the person I am to meet with, but my nerves remain in a state of awareness. Prison does that to you, makes you keenly aware that at any moment, without warning, someone could easily overtake you. Paranoia, some call it. I call it a first line of defense. The spaceport on Persephone is fairly busy, and already I can smell the food carts and hear the salesmen trying to take in the new load of travellers into their shops. Not really knowing which way to go first, I move towards the first of the food carts with something somewhat edible on the menu.
"Best dogs in the 'verse ret her!!! What kin I gitcha mister?" asks the proprieter.
"Whatever I can get for this" I say as I hand him a couple of coins from my pocket.
"Aint much, but I reckon itll be 'nuff" he replies and hands me a bun with some kind of meat sizzling inside. Turns out those werent the best dogs in the verse, but they werent the worst either. I sauntered along what seemed to be the main walkway chewing on my lunch, and wondered to myself where all these people were going. Surely they couldn't all live here? Already I had been bumped into a few times (and lost a few coins along with it) and the further into the main stretch I went the more people crowded the walkway. The smells and sounds were nearly overwhelming. Dear lord, had I really been away from society this long? A few rather boisterous shopkeepers tried to stop me along my way, but when I gave them the 'go to hell' look they left me alone. I had been wandering in this fashion for about 30 minutes when I felt a tug on my shirt sleeve.
"You look a little lost" said the voice coming from behind me.
Needless to say I was a bit startled, it had been a long time since someone was able to sneak up on me like that. "No need to worry" he said, noticing I was obviously taken aback "Ive been waiting for you, my name is Uther Soals, I believe we are supposed to meet."
Giving the man calling himself Uther a stern look, I slowly reached into my pocket and withdrew the scrap of paper with a name scrawled onto it. It was him alright.
"Not much of a talker, are you?" he asked. "No matter. Follow me closely, we will be moving fast to be sure you havent been followed."
Why would I have been followed? I almost had time to form the words to ask before he pulled me into a thin alleyway and around a corner. I tried to keep up with all the winding turns and various alleys we took, but after a few turns it became impossible. One thing could certainly be said for Uther, he could lose a tail (if there ever was one). When we finally came to a stop I was looking at a run down building, more of a shack really, surrounded by what seemed to be a neighborhood of similar dilapidated 'homes'. "Here we are!" Uther said with an excitement that didn't quite seem to fit the circumstances. "Home sweet home! Well, for now anyways. Would you like anything to drink? Aint got too much, but I think I can find us some good whiskey." I shake my head no. "Right to business then? Ight, I can appreciate that. Youre likely wondering who I am exactly and why youre here...I will do my best to explain as much as I can, though honestly theres isnt much to tell. We can skim the obvious, I think. I was a browncoat, had some dealings with your father that I cant talk about at length just yet, suffice it to say when I heard of your situation I felt obligated to lend a hand. So I sent a message to my contacts inside the prison, and had them deliver you a message. Almost didnt make it from what I hear."
"So what exactly are you offering me?" I asked, and a somewhat startled look came across Uthers face as I finally broke my silence.
"Why, a job of course!!" He replied, laughing to himself.
"What kind of job?" I asked. " Well, it will require some space travel, which I have come to understand you arent too partial to, but the pays good, and the people aint half bad either." said Uther.
"Sounds alot like the last job I took. Didnt work out to my likin" I replied.
"Well lets us just take a looksee at the ship and crew and you make your own way from there" he said. "Fair enough?"
"I reckon I can agree with that" I said, and out the back door we went.
Do you accept the rules of this site? Yes
First Name: Tesla
Last Name: Speer
Age: 31
Height: 5' 7"
Weight: 150
Appearance: He wears a brown coat (though not techically a browncoat himself, he was and continues to be a supporter) almost religously, has a shrapnel scar across his left eye from an alliance attack, along with a few minor scars on his hands and forearms from the nature of working with metal. On unfamiliar territory he generally carries a sawed off shotgun for protection, and sometimes will carry a .44 magnum revolver. His hair is usually unkempt, along with his facial hair as he doesnt spend too much time on personal grooming outside of simple cleanliness. Wears a good pair of combat boots and usually some kind of military issued or work pants.
Persuasion: Independents
Military Service: Served under the browncoats in an unofficial fashion repairing ships and in his spare time was attempting to develop a new type of blaster, but without the proper funding and other assistance was unsuccessful. At one point during the climax of the war he almost went to work for the Alliance forces to develop his experimental blaster. Often preferring to be on solid ground, he would be dropped into active warzones to make repairs or set up turrets.
General Skills: Tesla was trained in general electronics by his father from a very early age, and he continued his education to get a degree in Experimental Robotics and Electronics Systems. He can repair almost anything. He also builds and modifies robotic arms for salvage ships and other applications. Having grown up in a rural area, he is also proficient with a rifle and has a good working knowledge of field medicine.
Talents: Plays guitar very well. Has an amazing creative process which allows him to draw up plans and construct new products with relative ease depending on material limitations. An excellent medium to long range shooter.
Flaws: Not a very personable person. While he is generally a good man, he keeps to himself and tries not to get to involved with anyone else. He lacks close quarters combat training, and while he can hold his own against untrained assailants, anyone with close quarters combat training would have a huge advantage.
Personality Traits: Tesla feels very strongly about personal responsibility and freedom. His father raised him to respect life, and as such he is a good hearted caring person. However, throughout most of his later life he was stabbed in the back by friends, neglected and mistreated by the authories, and at one point served a year in jail for an offense he did not commit. This has made him a rather bitter and untrusting person, preferring to focus on his own problems (though he is often unable to ignore the suffering of others). He has a love/hate relationship with space travel...he prefers to be on the ground but also enjoys being close to the multifuntional electronics aboard a ship.
History: Born and raised mostly on Ithaca by his parents, Tesla enjoyed a fairly happy childhood, often helping his father with various projects for either work or pleasure. He built his first functional robotic arm at age 8 (with only minor help from dad) and kept expanding his abilities. He also would frequently go hunting with his uncle, and cherished these times out in the woods. He spent alot of time at a family cabin during his later teen years, often staying months at a time. While on these trips he would shut himself off from everyone to work on his projects and bask in the solitude of nature. Here he would hunt, fish, and farm for his own food, and appreciated being able to care for all his own needs. It is rumored he even managed to build a nearly self-sustaining power generator, but this claim goes unproven. Tesla graduated with just a masters, and was working on his doctoral studies when the war broke out. His father had ties with 'certain independent figures' and thus the ties to the browncoats was made. Teslas father also taught him that survival was more important than fighting, so he kept himself mostly in the shadows, quietly doing his duty under the guise of tutoring students. While he was content with his job, he still dreamed of creating something more. He began working on a propulsion engine (rumored to be based on his previous design for a self-sufficient motor, again unproven), and when that had too many setbacks, began work on the Tesla rifle. This project also went unfinished, barely making it past the concept phase. Towards the climax of the war, Tesla was approached by Alliance spies who offered him all he needed to complete the rifle, and being of the mindset that the Independence was to fall, he almost took them up on their offer, but changed his mind last minute citing conflicts of interest. After this he started taking on more dangerous missions for the browncoats, almost getting killed when a shuttle he was trying to repair was hit by Alliance rockets. Shortly after the war he went to work for a smuggler, and ended up being set-up by said smuggler and his associates. For his crimes he was sentenced to 3 years, of which he served 1 with good behaviour and was released. It is reputed that he refreshed some of his old browncoat contacts while imprisoned, but this also cannot be proven.
RP Sample: I stepped out into the bright afternoon sun. Usually in movies and books the hero would step out into a sunrise on an occasion such as this, but this wasnt a fairtale. It was my life, and today would be my first day of freedom. The heat is instantanious and overwhelming. I am too used to controlled environments, it will take awhile to get used to changing atmos again. I dont really have much of anything with me except a few credits and a name. I was given fairly clear instructions on how to find the person I am to meet with, but my nerves remain in a state of awareness. Prison does that to you, makes you keenly aware that at any moment, without warning, someone could easily overtake you. Paranoia, some call it. I call it a first line of defense. The spaceport on Persephone is fairly busy, and already I can smell the food carts and hear the salesmen trying to take in the new load of travellers into their shops. Not really knowing which way to go first, I move towards the first of the food carts with something somewhat edible on the menu.
"Best dogs in the 'verse ret her!!! What kin I gitcha mister?" asks the proprieter.
"Whatever I can get for this" I say as I hand him a couple of coins from my pocket.
"Aint much, but I reckon itll be 'nuff" he replies and hands me a bun with some kind of meat sizzling inside. Turns out those werent the best dogs in the verse, but they werent the worst either. I sauntered along what seemed to be the main walkway chewing on my lunch, and wondered to myself where all these people were going. Surely they couldn't all live here? Already I had been bumped into a few times (and lost a few coins along with it) and the further into the main stretch I went the more people crowded the walkway. The smells and sounds were nearly overwhelming. Dear lord, had I really been away from society this long? A few rather boisterous shopkeepers tried to stop me along my way, but when I gave them the 'go to hell' look they left me alone. I had been wandering in this fashion for about 30 minutes when I felt a tug on my shirt sleeve.
"You look a little lost" said the voice coming from behind me.
Needless to say I was a bit startled, it had been a long time since someone was able to sneak up on me like that. "No need to worry" he said, noticing I was obviously taken aback "Ive been waiting for you, my name is Uther Soals, I believe we are supposed to meet."
Giving the man calling himself Uther a stern look, I slowly reached into my pocket and withdrew the scrap of paper with a name scrawled onto it. It was him alright.
"Not much of a talker, are you?" he asked. "No matter. Follow me closely, we will be moving fast to be sure you havent been followed."
Why would I have been followed? I almost had time to form the words to ask before he pulled me into a thin alleyway and around a corner. I tried to keep up with all the winding turns and various alleys we took, but after a few turns it became impossible. One thing could certainly be said for Uther, he could lose a tail (if there ever was one). When we finally came to a stop I was looking at a run down building, more of a shack really, surrounded by what seemed to be a neighborhood of similar dilapidated 'homes'. "Here we are!" Uther said with an excitement that didn't quite seem to fit the circumstances. "Home sweet home! Well, for now anyways. Would you like anything to drink? Aint got too much, but I think I can find us some good whiskey." I shake my head no. "Right to business then? Ight, I can appreciate that. Youre likely wondering who I am exactly and why youre here...I will do my best to explain as much as I can, though honestly theres isnt much to tell. We can skim the obvious, I think. I was a browncoat, had some dealings with your father that I cant talk about at length just yet, suffice it to say when I heard of your situation I felt obligated to lend a hand. So I sent a message to my contacts inside the prison, and had them deliver you a message. Almost didnt make it from what I hear."
"So what exactly are you offering me?" I asked, and a somewhat startled look came across Uthers face as I finally broke my silence.
"Why, a job of course!!" He replied, laughing to himself.
"What kind of job?" I asked. " Well, it will require some space travel, which I have come to understand you arent too partial to, but the pays good, and the people aint half bad either." said Uther.
"Sounds alot like the last job I took. Didnt work out to my likin" I replied.
"Well lets us just take a looksee at the ship and crew and you make your own way from there" he said. "Fair enough?"
"I reckon I can agree with that" I said, and out the back door we went.
Do you accept the rules of this site? Yes