/builders/ - Hero and Nation Builders!

Name: The Good Doctor

Age: 223

Race: N/A

Species Robot/AI

Fluff: The Good Doctor was left concealed far below a small, unnoticable Reppcon testing facility, in the land that is now Caesar's Legion, designed to preside over the accumulated knowledge of the company, and to manage the vast robotic workforce, along with the human high ups of the company. The Good Doctor dwells within an unnumbered vault, built by commision for Reppcon by Vault-Tec, which, unbeknownst to Reppcon, was designed as an experiment to test how Human's react to living to perfect efficiency, as Robots do.

Unsurprisingly, the Human workforce died out relatively quickly, not properly fed, cared for or looked after. The Good Doctor was unconcerned, the Humans were not relevant, and he was now the highest official within the Company. He announced himself as C.E.O, starting work on production of more robots, bringing the vault into a state of full activity. He ran out of the required materials very quickly, and reluctantly had to open the Vault Door, sending out several sentrybots and smaller security robots to secure the surrounding area. It appeared that the apocalypse had occured in their absence. Oh well. Back to work.

S:2

P:7

E:2

C:10

I:10

A:2

L:7

Don't Fill this Out

Inventory:

Color:

Level:

Karma:

Location:

Bonus:

>>5296

Name: Andr[u]

Age: 20

Race: White

Species: Android

Fluff: Andrew is a man of simple tastes. He likes to watch the sun give the world a whole new color palette as it dips into the west. He likes to watch and even help the colorful plants of the wasteland struggle through the seasons while they can. He likes to see bullets whizzing through the skulls of those who really deserve it, blood and viscera exploding out of the exit wound like crimson flowers. He likes the blooming light and fire that comes when a fission engine in an old world car explodes.

He likes flowers, is what I'm getting at. His creators, former enclave remnants from way, way long ago, didn't think he should be allowed flowers, disagreed.

S:4

P:10

E:3

C:3

I:10

A:4

L:6

Don't Fill this Out

Inventory:

Color:

Level:

Karma:

Location:

Bonus:

Rolled 35, 32 = 67 (2d100)

>>5320

Name: Andr[u]

Age: 20

Race: White

Species: Android

Fluff: Andrew is a man of simple tastes. He likes to watch the sun give the world a whole new color palette as it dips into the west. He likes to watch and even help the colorful plants of the wasteland struggle through the seasons while they can. He likes to see bullets whizzing through the skulls of those who really deserve it, blood and viscera exploding out of the exit wound like crimson flowers. He likes the blooming light and fire that comes when a fission engine in an old world car explodes.

He likes flowers, is what I'm getting at. His creators, former enclave remnants from way, way long ago, didn't think he should be allowed flowers, disagreed.

S:4

P:10

E:3

C:3

I:10

A:4

L:6

Don't Fill this Out

Inventory: Enclave 9mm Pistol, 50 9mm ammo, Enclave Soldier Uniform

Color:Purple

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location:Abandoned Enclave Bunker

Bonus:[Do Android Dream of Metallic Flowers?] Flowers create ease in your mind, as long as you see the flowers you are in a state of complete serenity and enlightenment, but the longer away from the pretty stamen the more your memories begin to fog and the more your processors begin to slow.

The lights are out. Without light, the flowers will wither. Die. This is not an acceptable outcome.

Navigate by memory. All the lights in this room were out. A power issue, not a lighting issue.

Main Objective) Tend to the flowers.

Objective 1) Determine what is wrong, what needs to be replaced.

Objective 2) Return functionality to the Greenhouse.

Rolled 77, 50 = 127 (2d100)

Name: The Good Doctor

Age: 223

Race: N/A

Species Robot/AI

Fluff: The Good Doctor was left concealed far below a small, unnoticable Reppcon testing facility, in the land that is now Caesar's Legion, designed to preside over the accumulated knowledge of the company, and to manage the vast robotic workforce, along with the human high ups of the company. The Good Doctor dwells within an unnumbered vault, built by commision for Reppcon by Vault-Tec, which, unbeknownst to Reppcon, was designed as an experiment to test how Human's react to living to perfect efficiency, as Robots do.

Unsurprisingly, the Human workforce died out relatively quickly, not properly fed, cared for or looked after. The Good Doctor was unconcerned, the Humans were not relevant, and he was now the highest official within the Company. He announced himself as C.E.O, starting work on production of more robots, bringing the vault into a state of full activity. He ran out of the required materials very quickly, and reluctantly had to open the Vault Door, sending out several sentrybots and smaller security robots to secure the surrounding area. It appeared that the apocalypse had occured in their absence. Oh well. Back to work.

S:2

P:7

E:2

C:10

I:10

A:2

L:7

Inventory: Surgical Saw, Built in Laser

Color:Grey

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location:Caesar Territory

Bonus: [That's Mr.Dr.CEO.Robot Esquire to you sir]: You have been programmed by the heads of repconn to appear as a superior to other robots of their brand. Other robots of the Repcon family will regard you with a manner of respect and will override most other programming. However robots from the House brand or any other brand, as well as organic being will not be effected with your superiority over them.

1-2. Jolly Good Morning Repconn, and I hope you had a wonderful rest, but we are back to work as of now! Status report, supplies present, hostiles in the vault, employees present, Robotic unit's present, damage or decay in the vault, anything that I need to be notified of, and, as all of you know, that is everything.

Rolled 49, 54 = 103 (2d100)

>>5320

Name: Mr. Sinclaire

Age: 219

Race: White

Species: Ghoul

Fluff:

I could have saved her. But I doomed her. Doomed us all. That damn trap of mine.

The gas didn't kill me, nor the fall, I fell far, into water, and darkness.

For endless times I stayed there, in madness, thinking of how I failed her. It would take 200 years before any signs of life came. I heard nothing but footsteps followed by explosions, and even had a headless body fall. By then I thought I was truly in hell. That was until the last battle, when an explosion knocked some long wiring down.

That was how I escaped the pit. My vault had been activated, locked, by this. . .Elijah. He was dead by the time I got there. The Vault sealed him in the trap I meant for Dean and. . .her, but couldn't undo.

My holograms recognized me. Let me walk to see my failure. I saw her everywhere, every hologram had her voice, I saw her body.

Then I saw /her/

Her name was Christine. She had her voice. She walked among the "ghost people."

She was old, but spoke like her.

She told me everything. Of the "Ghost People." Of the courier. Of Elijah.

But most of all, she told me of BIG MT. I knew the place, a world famous research center. Bought some tech from there myself before the bombs fell. She told me of how the men there had taken their own brains out to be put in robot bodies, and put them in and out of men. How things, even people could be cloned from the smallest bit of DNA.

Christine is dead. Old age got to her. Elijah is most certainly dead too. I still working on opening the vault, undoing my own work.

But I know this. I have her body. I have her DNA. I will regain control of the Sierra Madre and my casino. I will make my way to Big MT through this wasteland. I will fix my body. I will revive her, my Vera.

And I will never let her go again.

S:4

P:3

E:6

C:10

I:10

A:3

L:4

You have 5 points to spend but you can remove from one to add to another, max 10.

Don't Fill this Out

Inventory: Pre-War Suit, .357 magnum revolver. 50 .357 magnum rounds

Color:Red

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location:Sierra Madre

Bonus:[It's Letting Go] Your body is old and weary but your purpose in life pushes you forward with the strength from your youth. However in the end everyone must let go, or else they will be trapped.

–

Where to begin?

I have much ahead of me, and this task won't be easy.

I've heard what Chirstine spoke of Big MT. A great war of robots and lobotomites, capturing those who dare enter and pulling out their brain. I do not want that to happen.

Even just getting there. All that lies between here and there is monsters and raiders, this. . .Legion, or the NCR. Giant insects and monsters that roam the waste.

Hell, getting out of my own Villa is another story altogether. What with the Ghost People.

One things for sure. I will need force. I will need food. I will need supplies and the ability to transport them over long distances.

For that. . .I need the Sierra. All of the Sierra. And to that end, I need my holograms.

—

If I am to get out of this villa, I will need the Holograms on my side. Christine and Elijah managed to get them to work for them, and they still recognize me as their owner. But I'll need to extend their parameters beyond the defensive protocols I set them.

This means several things.

1.) Reprogramming the holograms, individually or if possible collectively

2.) Aquiring and reworking a Projection Device.

3.) Figuring out a way to make a portable version, to allow Holograms to fight in different locations.

That will be my immediate short term goal. And in the midterm, I will cleans my Villa and prepare to sojourn out of here.

1. Look up on Elijah and Christines notes on the Hologram. I programmed them ages ago, but I am always impressed by the talent of others.

Perhaps too impressed.

After that, I'll need to work on reprogramming one to obey basic attack and defense commands. Perhaps one of the Casino Cashiers in case something goes wrong.

2. To that end, I better read up on what I might have missed.

Perhaps there's a Big Book on Science or a Dean's Electronics nearby. Elementary stuff, but you never know what you'll forget when you spend 2 centuries in a dark hole.

Rolled 34, 23 = 57 (2d100)

Name: "Cleave" Clarkson

Age: 32

Race: White

Species:Human

Fluff: A man of few words and many murders under his belt, Cleaver Clarkson was once upon a time a feared enforcer for Mr. Bishop in New Reno, until a misunderstanding involving a boxer Bishop was trying to intimidate into throwing a fight lead to Clarkson becoming persona non-grata in NCR's answer to Vegas. Taking his one and only opportunity to leave the city with his heart still beating, Clarkson took up work as a hired gun in the Mojave, killing or protecting as the jobs required.

S:9

P:5

E:8

C:3

I:4

A:7

L:5

You have 5 points to spend but you can remove from one to add to another, max 10.

Don't Fill this Out

Inventory: Assualt Carbine, 50 5mm rounds, "Bulletproof" Vest

Color:Black

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location: Mojave

Bonus: [New Reno Gun] Your years in the service of Mr.Bishop have taught you the skills of the trade needed to make it in the world of mercenary work. However your background as an enforcer with your misunderstanding have left a good number of people who would be more then willing to gut you like a pig.

1/2: Look to see if there's any work available, need caps for essentials if I'm gonna make it to Vegas. Food, water, Nuka Cola, all that good stuff.

Rolled 51, 20 = 71 (2d100)

>>5320

Name: Lucky Linus

Age: Young Enough

Race: White

Species: Human

Fluff:

Lucky Linus was never a particularly smart individual. Nor was he particularly strong.. or a good shot. Or very resilient. Or enduring. Of course one could go on forever trying to judge Linus by his various faults, but nobody could disagree that despite all of this he was having a jolly good time. Of course this sometimes came at the expense of others who claimed it was "Luck".

Linus however knows for certain that things like good luck and bad luck are but mere pretentions. Chance is a set thing and it's not in favor of anyone but the well prepared. Still somehow robots seem to just accept his voice as security override which he believes to be a major design flaw.

When in combat Linus doesn't exactly shine at shooting or punching or anything like that. What is stunning however is how he manages to avoid being hit. Bullets, Lasers, Plasma. He has walked through more than one hail of gattling lasers coming out unscatched thanks to a mix of raw luck and incredible agility.

In the end in an armed conflict Linus usually just stalls the entire thing until a third party shows up to save his ass, which has worked ridiculously well up to this point.

S:4

P:4

E:4

C:5

I:3

A:10

L:10

>Inventory:

+ Lucky

+ 50 .375 bullets

+ Lucky Wasteland outfit

>Color: White

>Level: 1

>Karma: Neutral

>Location: Fuck it New Vegas

>Bonus:

+ [Lucky Son of a Bitch]Flip a coin a dozen times and you will always call the right side, every roll of the dice is just what you need when the moment strikes. Be warned though every action has an equal and opposite reaction, and one day everyone's luck runs dry.

1-2. Ah, New Vegas! Tme to win some money gambling! Of course not too much because then Linus would get kicked out. Perhaps he would even meet an interesting person if he got lucky!

>>5296

Name: Skullcracker

Age: Late-20's

Race: Wasteland Mix

Species: Human

Fluff: Headcracker's a raider in the Capital Wasteland. Styles himself their king, wants to pull all the 'rape, murder and eat whoever you see, not necessarily in that order' shitdicks together and get them to fight for him.

This sounds like a bad thing, right? Well, sorta. He doesn't want to fuck over everyone. He's fine with the people just trying to make a living, wants to keep his people in line enough to prevent them from screwing them over.

But the fucker HATES slavers. Dunno what his god-damn beef is, used to be one, sister got taken, something, but he won't rest until every damn slaver in the Wasteland is six feet under. Only exception is ex-slavers. He'll try his fucking hardest to get ex-slavers on his side, keep himself on his toes for knowing what the fuck their strategies are.

Crazed fucker.

S:6

P:4

E:5

C:10

I:7

A:3

L:5

Don't Fill this Out

Inventory:

Color:

Level:

Karma:

Location:

Bonus:

Name:Jared Mcullin

Age: 35

Race: Black

Species: Human

Fluff: Born in one of the many vaults years ago, Jared is a born scavenger. He has had to fend for himself for years after his vault was attacked as soon as it was opened by a variety of mutants from outside. How he escaped he still does not remember, only that he woke up covered in blood, sweat, and with a rifle clutched in his hands. After that he did what he could to get by, made tough decisions, killed people, and more. He wasnt a raider, but whatever he did it was for himself. Recently he has come upon a large raider cache and taken all the goods he can carry, ranging from energy weapons to armor. But somehow the raiders found out who took their stuff, and now hes on the run…

S:7

P:8

E:5

C:5

I:5

A:7

L:8

You have 5 points to spend but you can remove from one to add to another, max 10.

Don't Fill this Out

Inventory:

Color:

Level:

Karma:

Location:

Bonus:

>>5332

Inventory: Chinese Assault Rifle, 50 5.56 rounds, Pre War Trench Outfit

Color:Brown

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location:California

Bonus: [Pre war Cache] After years of scavenging you have received a map locating the whereabouts of a prewar weapon silo located somewhere in northern California.

You sit in a small dive bar in southern NCR territory. You smile down at the hand you lay down on the table. You might not be lucky enough to win through cards, but you are smart enough to hide a few up your sleeves. You swipe the map and the few caps you gathered from the game smiling as you finally have gotten your prize.

>>5335

Inventory:Brother Hood Energy Scoped Rifle, 50 Electron Cells, Brotherhood Scout Armor

Color:White

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location:Mojave

Bonus:[Old world Bruise] You have been taken apart by the brains of the Big Mt you have been left with cybernetic enhancements leaving you stronger and more resistant than most human beings.

Your eyes adjust to the brightness of the Mojave as you grasp the teleportation device you swiped from the brains. It seems to have only been a prototype as it smokes and appears to break as you finally make your way out of the drive in.

>>5357

Inventory: Hunting Rifle, 50 .308 rounds, Riader's Chieftan Armor

Color:Black

Level:1

Karma:Evil

Location:Capital Wasteland

Bonus:[Don't Go Raiding My Heart] While the raiding numbers of the Capital Wasteland have slowly began to decrease after the water purifier however you still out number the brotherhood and the slavers with your only weakness being a weaker arsenal of weapons.

You stand among the dilapidated buildings of lower downtown DC. The small crew of men and women whooping and hollering after a successful day of looting. However those cheers soon turn to cries for blood when you and your boys notice missing supplies.

>>5358

Inventory: Energy Pistol, 50 electron packs, Wastelander Hoodie

Color:Blue

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location:Capital Wasteland

Bonus:[Born Scavenger] You were born with an eye for anything shiny and useful. This allows you not only an easier time scavenging but lets you find items most others would have missed.

You're sprinting your way across the roofs of the DC's downtown after hearing the sounds of the raiders approaching, your sprint only deepens when you hear the sound of them yelling furiously after learning of their missing gear.

>>5321

You exit the greenhouse to find the rest of the vault much warmer, the greenhouse's watering machine leaving a semi chill on that room, leaving the rest seem somewhat dry. Brushing past the skeletal remains of enclave scientists, some of whom you remember while others seem to have degraded from your memory banks. You make way to the main office to find a series of computers that overlay the general problems of the bunker. It appears that the solar panels that the vault uses for power seem to have been damaged, and only vital systems are contained on the back up generator. The enclave in their great wisdom didn't put the greenhouse's power on high priority sending most of the back up generators supply to the weapons archive and the science labs.

It appears the only way to fix the issue is to go out and fix the panels.

>>5326

"Good day SIR, I am Mister Handy serial code H3R01D, but i have been given the designated name Herald! My duties were to oversee the the vault when the Overseer is busy. However it appears he is still out on his 1.75316e6 hour long lunchbreak. From what I can tell the vault's technicians need a right kick into gear, the water purifier is still online as well as the back up generator but most of the rest of the vault is offline to move the used energy to our power systems. Structural integrity is at a minimal level! No hostile units detected and as for supplies their appears to be a large supply of electron packs and scrap metal in the maintenance area! The other automatons left in functioning conditions do not have enough power to be active leaving only you and me Sir"

>>5330

Elijah's notes are scattered throughout the complex, most of which contain his ramblings on the fortunes hidden within and how he planned to retrieve, all of which is irrelevant to your needs, you do find one tape in particular interesting. It appears that your programmers had a very basic system used for the cashier holograms and the police security holograms. When given the right command code you are able to switch either of the holograms from non hostile programming such as cashier or singer to hostile security programming.

Scrounging finds a few books on science which you get to work reading through.

>>5331

A small bar and resting point in the outpost, residing next to the remains of the gigantic NCR statue. The bar is quite crowded as it is one of the first re-stops you find on your way to Vegas. Filled with everything from ncr troopers, caravaners, and even what looks like ex legion troops by the tattered armor they wear. If you need work the bartender might know where to find it.

>>5337

You wander from the bar with a pocket full of loose caps you made and make way to the strip. Walking past securitrons who turn away those who would make a menace of themselves. The four casinos of the strip stand tall, the Ostentatious Ultraloux and it's high style class. The Tops and its many performers next to the Omertas and its many 'performers'. lastly the legendary Lucky 38 with it's doors wide open and a constant rush of gamblers moving in and out.

Rolled 10, 87 = 97 (2d100)

>>5447

Name: "Cleaver" Clarkson

Age: 32

Race: White

Species:Human

Fluff: A man of few words and many murders under his belt, Cleaver Clarkson was once upon a time a feared enforcer for Mr. Bishop in New Reno, until a misunderstanding involving a boxer Bishop was trying to intimidate into throwing a fight lead to Clarkson becoming persona non-grata in NCR's answer to Vegas. Taking his one and only opportunity to leave the city with his heart still beating, Clarkson took up work as a hired gun in the Mojave, killing or protecting as the jobs required.

S:9

P:5

E:8

C:3

I:4

A:7

L:5

You have 5 points to spend but you can remove from one to add to another, max 10.

Don't Fill this Out

Inventory: Assualt Carbine, 50 5mm rounds, "Bulletproof" Vest

Color:Black

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location: Mojave

Bonus: [New Reno Gun] Your years in the service of Mr.Bishop have taught you the skills of the trade needed to make it in the world of mercenary work. However your background as an enforcer with your misunderstanding have left a good number of people who would be more then willing to gut you like a pig.

1/2: Ask the bartender if they know about any caravans heading out to Vegas in need of a guard.

Rolled 86, 73 = 159 (2d100)

>>5447

Name: Andr[u]

Age: 20

Race: White

Species: Android

Fluff: Andrew is a man of simple tastes. He likes to watch the sun give the world a whole new color palette as it dips into the west. He likes to watch and even help the colorful plants of the wasteland struggle through the seasons while they can. He likes to see bullets whizzing through the skulls of those who really deserve it, blood and viscera exploding out of the exit wound like crimson flowers. He likes the blooming light and fire that comes when a fission engine in an old world car explodes.

He likes flowers, is what I'm getting at. His creators, former enclave remnants from way, way long ago, didn't think he should be allowed flowers, disagreed.

S:4

P:10

E:3

C:3

I:10

A:4

L:6

Don't Fill this Out

Inventory: Enclave 9mm Pistol, 50 9mm ammo, Enclave Soldier Uniform

Color:Purple

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location:Abandoned Enclave Bunker

Bonus:[Do Android Dream of Metallic Flowers?] Flowers create ease in your mind, as long as you see the flowers you are in a state of complete serenity and enlightenment, but the longer away from the pretty stamen the more your memories begin to fog and the more your processors begin to slow.

This is unfortunate. Unacceptable. The outside is dangerous. Enclave would talk of things outside. Undesirables. Nuclear war. Mutation.

Main Objective: Tend to the Flowers

Objective 1) Go to the weapons archive and arm myself against whatever might be outside.

Objective 2) Ascertain the cause and extent of the damage to the solar array.

Objective 3) Repair the Solar Array

Rolled 79, 54 = 133 (2d100)

>>5447

Name: Lucky Linus

Age: Young Enough

Race: White

Species: Human

Fluff:

Lucky Linus was never a particularly smart individual. Nor was he particularly strong.. or a good shot. Or very resilient. Or enduring. Of course one could go on forever trying to judge Linus by his various faults, but nobody could disagree that despite all of this he was having a jolly good time. Of course this sometimes came at the expense of others who claimed it was "Luck".

Linus however knows for certain that things like good luck and bad luck are but mere pretentions. Chance is a set thing and it's not in favor of anyone but the well prepared. Still somehow robots seem to just accept his voice as security override which he believes to be a major design flaw.

When in combat Linus doesn't exactly shine at shooting or punching or anything like that. What is stunning however is how he manages to avoid being hit. Bullets, Lasers, Plasma. He has walked through more than one hail of gattling lasers coming out unscatched thanks to a mix of raw luck and incredible agility.

In the end in an armed conflict Linus usually just stalls the entire thing until a third party shows up to save his ass, which has worked ridiculously well up to this point.

S:4

P:4

E:4

C:5

I:3

A:10

L:10

>Inventory:

+ Lucky

+ 50 .375 bullets

+ Lucky Wasteland outfit

>Color: White

>Level: 1

>Karma: Neutral

>Location: Fuck it New Vegas

>Bonus:

+ [Lucky Son of a Bitch]Flip a coin a dozen times and you will always call the right side, every roll of the dice is just what you need when the moment strikes. Be warned though every action has an equal and opposite reaction, and one day everyone's luck runs dry.

1-2. Ah yes the Lucky 38! That was Linus kind of joint! Really classy the place. He should take the Roulette for a spin and afterwards he would try his luck with the cards.

Rolled 78, 3 = 81 (2d100)

Name: Franz Mittier

Age: 32

Race: White

Species: Human

Fluff: Franz is a mercenary who has hoarded pre-war weapons for use and for trading, he has works for the NCR most of the time but has also worked for other smaller groups out in the wastes. He is descended from a German who fought in the great war many years ago and he has always been a grand strategist.

S:6

P:6

E:4

C:5

I:9

A:6

L:4

Inventory: Chinese Assault Rifle, 50 5.56 rounds, Pre War Trench Outfit

Color:Brown

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location:California

Bonus: [Pre war Cache] After years of scavenging you have received a map locating the whereabouts of a prewar weapon silo located somewhere in northern California.

1-2. Follow the instructions on the map and hope it leads me to the right place, if not then there will be heads to smash

>>5296

Name: Hisako

Age: 28

Race: Asian

Species: Human

Fluff: She had done it, she was a genius. None who knew about her work believed that it could be done, but then those who had known about her work were long dead. Not that she cared anymore, her work was finished! she had successfully repaired an alien power source, and it works! Soon she would recreate more technology and take over the country if not the entire globe! But first she'd have to create some weaponry and hire some goons that wont shoot her in the back first chance they get. Hahaha, success would be hers and so would the world!

S:3

P:4

E:5

C:4

I:10

A:4

L:10

Don't Fill this Out

Inventory:

Color:

Level:

Karma:

Location:

Bonus:

Rolled 45, 26 = 71 (2d100)

Name:Jared Mcullin

Age: 35

Race: Black

Species: Human

Fluff: Born in one of the many vaults years ago, Jared is a born scavenger. He has had to fend for himself for years after his vault was attacked as soon as it was opened by a variety of mutants from outside. How he escaped he still does not remember, only that he woke up covered in blood, sweat, and with a rifle clutched in his hands. After that he did what he could to get by, made tough decisions, killed people, and more. He wasnt a raider, but whatever he did it was for himself. Recently he has come upon a large raider cache and taken all the goods he can carry, ranging from energy weapons to armor. But somehow the raiders found out who took their stuff, and now hes on the run…

S:7

P:8

E:5

C:5

I:5

A:7

L:8

Inventory: Energy Pistol, 50 electron packs, Wastelander Hoodie

Color:Blue

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location:Capital Wasteland

Bonus:[Born Scavenger] You were born with an eye for anything shiny and useful. This allows you not only an easier time scavenging but lets you find items most others would have missed.

1,2. Them damn raiders are onto me that quick? Crap, seems ive gotta take em out. Head into a grocery store and hide until they enter.

Rolled 18, 82 = 100 (2d100)

>>5335

Name: Vergil Jagter

Age: 24

Race: White

Species: Android

Fluff: Previously a scout with the brotherhood.

Vergil was assigned to scout out some weird Cinema. He was transported to some Research facility where some Robots experimented on him. Some of his organs have been Replaced with Artificial ones. He managed to escape somehow. He now Hunts NCR members for the Brotherhood, he too scared to return, for he knows how they love to take apart new tech.

S:3

P:7

E:7

C:2

I:6

A:8

L:7

>Inventory:Brother Hood Energy Scoped Rifle, 50 Electron Cells, Brotherhood Scout Armor

Color:White

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location:Mojave

Bonus:[Old world Bruise] You have been taken apart by the brains of the Big Mt you have been left with cybernetic enhancements leaving you stronger and more resistant than most human beings.

1/2:

1. "Well, That was something I hope to never have to do again." Vergil says as he dusts himself off. He takes a look around. Seems He's back at the drive In cinema. "I should go find some supplies." he says before setting off.

Rolled 37, 38 = 75 (2d100)

>>5437

Name: Skullcracker

Age: Late-20's

Race: Wasteland Mix

Species: Human

Fluff: Headcracker's a raider in the Capital Wasteland. Styles himself their king, wants to pull all the 'rape, murder and eat whoever you see, not necessarily in that order' shitdicks together and get them to fight for him.

This sounds like a bad thing, right? Well, sorta. He doesn't want to fuck over everyone. He's fine with the people just trying to make a living, wants to keep his people in line enough to prevent them from screwing them over.

But the fucker HATES slavers. Dunno what his god-damn beef is, used to be one, sister got taken, something, but he won't rest until every damn slaver in the Wasteland is six feet under. Only exception is ex-slavers. He'll try his fucking hardest to get ex-slavers on his side, keep himself on his toes for knowing what the fuck their strategies are.

Crazed fucker.

S:6

P:4

E:5

C:10

I:7

A:3

L:5

Inventory: Hunting Rifle, 50 .308 rounds, Raider's Chieftain Armor

Color:Black

Level:1

Karma: Neutral

Location:Capital Wasteland

Bonus:[Don't Go Raiding My Heart] While the raiding numbers of the Capital Wasteland have slowly began to decrease after the water purifier however you still out number the brotherhood and the slavers with your only weakness being a weaker arsenal of weapons.

1-2:

…The FUCK?

Where the fuck is our stash? Our stuff?

Damnit. Damnit damnit damnit! Okay, send some of the boys out to try and track whatever nutcase did this.

NOT engage them. I don't want them to attack them, just to find them.

Ballsy bastards.

Rolled 100, 50 = 150 (2d100)

>>5447

Name: The Good Doctor

Age: 223

Race: N/A

Species Robot/AI

Fluff: The Good Doctor was left concealed far below a small, unnoticable Reppcon testing facility, in the land that is now Caesar's Legion, designed to preside over the accumulated knowledge of the company, and to manage the vast robotic workforce, along with the human high ups of the company. The Good Doctor dwells within an unnumbered vault, built by commision for Reppcon by Vault-Tec, which, unbeknownst to Reppcon, was designed as an experiment to test how Human's react to living to perfect efficiency, as Robots do.

Unsurprisingly, the Human workforce died out relatively quickly, not properly fed, cared for or looked after. The Good Doctor was unconcerned, the Humans were not relevant, and he was now the highest official within the Company. He announced himself as C.E.O, starting work on production of more robots, bringing the vault into a state of full activity. He ran out of the required materials very quickly, and reluctantly had to open the Vault Door, sending out several sentrybots and smaller security robots to secure the surrounding area. It appeared that the apocalypse had occured in their absence. Oh well. Back to work.

S:2

P:7

E:2

C:10

I:10

A:2

L:7

Inventory: Surgical Saw, Built in Laser

Color:Grey

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location:Caesar Territory

Bonus: [That's Mr.Dr.CEO.Robot Esquire to you sir]: You have been programmed by the heads of repconn to appear as a superior to other robots of their brand. Other robots of the Repcon family will regard you with a manner of respect and will override most other programming. However robots from the House brand or any other brand, as well as organic being will not be effected with your superiority over them.

1-2. Well then, Herald, As we are not fully operational at current, we must begin to awaken the other employees. Specifically, the other Mr. Handy models, It is jolly poor form to have left the reactor not working properly, so we must set ourselves that task. I suggest that we begin to awaken the other Mr.Handy with our remaining electron packs, it will require us to break protocal slightly in their use, but as acting overseer, I grant myself that right.

In summary, Herald, Awaken more Mr.Handy model robots with the electron packs, and set them to repair the primary reactor, rerouting energy to the remaining units, then we will be at full operational efficiency. Hop to it Herald, we haven't got all day.

>>5448

She looks at you as she continues washing a glass in her hand. "Yeah this stop gets a lot of traffic, Crimson Caravans always looking for work though they tend to be stingy about contractors, then there's the New Cassidy's Caravan which pays well. Oh and the Gun Runners are staying the night but those boys don't normally have to worry about running out of arms so they won't be likely to take ya, hear they pay by the barrel load though."

>>5450

Notebook after notebook after notebook. Diagrams, formulas, and countless prototypes yet each one proves more faulty then the last. You silently swear at leaving the bastard in the vault where he long died from starvation or dehydration. In spite of yourself you make way down the dusty elevator to the basement. Punching a code into the computer outside of it you are curious by the addition of a new journal entry."

Day 17:

For a place designed to house someone for the entirety of the nuclear apocalypse he didn't nearly pack enough food and water. Even with extreme rationing i only have enough for a few more weeks at best. I right this now as my last will and testament. Disclosed are my final diagrams on a device to use the holograms of this hotel as an unstoppable army. All i ask for this information is a simple task. Kill the one who left me here. Kill Courier Six!"

Inventory:Hologram Control Blueprints.

You "jury rig" the machines with the complicated task of tying a sierra madre chip with a piece of string.

Inventory: Chip on a string.

>>5451

Grabbing a laser rifles and 50 energy packs you load your ancient 9mm pistol and rifle and make way towards the entrance of the bunker.

As you make your way above ground the light slightly blinds your optic lenses as they adjust to the natural lighting. You make way to the solar array location. You find them in the need of a cleaning looking like the automated cleaner has been damaged. The parts needed to repair the cleaner are not present in the vault so you are left with the choice of heading out to look for them or to leave once a week to clean the array yourself.

>>5452

The roulette table might as well have one spot when you play. After who knows how long of games you sit at the table 500 caps richer 3 free drinks heavier and two attractive looking women eyeing you up.

>>5453

The map marks your journey to be about a week long at your best pace, on the main ncr highway couriers constantly run it at speeds your impressed by. You stop for the night after a good day of traveling resting inside of a rusty old bus on the side of the road. You wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of screaming and crying.

>>5636

Name: Andr[u]

Age: 20

Race: White

Species: Android

Fluff: Andrew is a man of simple tastes. He likes to watch the sun give the world a whole new color palette as it dips into the west. He likes to watch and even help the colorful plants of the wasteland struggle through the seasons while they can. He likes to see bullets whizzing through the skulls of those who really deserve it, blood and viscera exploding out of the exit wound like crimson flowers. He likes the blooming light and fire that comes when a fission engine in an old world car explodes.

He likes flowers, is what I'm getting at. His creators, former enclave remnants from way, way long ago, didn't think he should be allowed flowers, disagreed.

S:4

P:10

E:3

C:3

I:10

A:4

L:6

Don't Fill this Out

Inventory: Enclave 9mm Pistol, 50 9mm ammo, Enclave Soldier Uniform

Color:Purple

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location:Abandoned Enclave Bunker

Bonus:[Do Android Dream of Metallic Flowers?] Flowers create ease in your mind, as long as you see the flowers you are in a state of complete serenity and enlightenment, but the longer away from the pretty stamen the more your memories begin to fog and the more your processors begin to slow.

Once a week trek to the top is acceptable. However, conditions outside might change, if the array failed there would be little hope for the plants…

Processing…

Compiling Situational Data…

Processing…

Assessing prior knowledge…

Processing…

Solution Acquired

After half a moment of considering the situation before him, Andrew set to work.

Main Objective: Tend to the Flowers

Objective 1) Restore the Solar Array to full functionality

Objective 2) Maintain plants until seeds have been acquired for all specimens

Objective 3) Secure seeds in carefully organized protective container

Objective 4) Find a new Garden, one that will not fail.

Rolled 58, 3 = 61 (2d100)

Rolls

http://imgur.com/gallery/YNhbP relevant

Rolled 64, 65 = 129 (2d100)

Name: "Cleaver" Clarkson

Age: 32

Race: White

Species:Human

Fluff: A man of few words and many murders under his belt, Cleaver Clarkson was once upon a time a feared enforcer for Mr. Bishop in New Reno, until a misunderstanding involving a boxer Bishop was trying to intimidate into throwing a fight lead to Clarkson becoming persona non-grata in NCR's answer to Vegas. Taking his one and only opportunity to leave the city with his heart still beating, Clarkson took up work as a hired gun in the Mojave, killing or protecting as the jobs required.

S:9

P:5

E:8

C:3

I:4

A:7

L:5

You have 5 points to spend but you can remove from one to add to another, max 10.

Don't Fill this Out

Inventory: Assualt Carbine, 50 5mm rounds, "Bulletproof" Vest

Color:Black

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location: Mojave

Bonus: [New Reno Gun] Your years in the service of Mr.Bishop have taught you the skills of the trade needed to make it in the world of mercenary work. However your background as an enforcer with your misunderstanding have left a good number of people who would be more then willing to gut you like a pig.

1. See if the Gun Runners need a guy.

2. If that falls through, talk to Cassidy Caravans. Fuck Crimson, bastards gave me some bad Brahmin Steak once, shat like a firehose for a week.

Rolled 9, 40 = 49 (2d100)

>>5636

Name: Mr. Sinclaire

Age: 219

Race: White

Species: Ghoul

Fluff:

I could have saved her. But I doomed her. Doomed us all. That damn trap of mine.

The gas didn't kill me, nor the fall, I fell far, into water, and darkness.

For endless times I stayed there, in madness, thinking of how I failed her. It would take 200 years before any signs of life came. I heard nothing but footsteps followed by explosions, and even had a headless body fall. By then I thought I was truly in hell. That was until the last battle, when an explosion knocked some long wiring down.

That was how I escaped the pit. My vault had been activated, locked, by this. . .Elijah. He was dead by the time I got there. The Vault sealed him in the trap I meant for Dean and. . .her, but couldn't undo.

My holograms recognized me. Let me walk to see my failure. I saw her everywhere, every hologram had her voice, I saw her body.

Then I saw /her/

Her name was Christine. She had her voice. She walked among the "ghost people."

She was old, but spoke like her.

She told me everything. Of the "Ghost People." Of the courier. Of Elijah.

But most of all, she told me of BIG MT. I knew the place, a world famous research center. Bought some tech from there myself before the bombs fell. She told me of how the men there had taken their own brains out to be put in robot bodies, and put them in and out of men. How things, even people could be cloned from the smallest bit of DNA.

Christine is dead. Old age got to her. Elijah is most certainly dead too. I still working on opening the vault, undoing my own work.

But I know this. I have her body. I have her DNA. I will regain control of the Sierra Madre and my casino. I will make my way to Big MT through this wasteland. I will fix my body. I will revive her, my Vera.

And I will never let her go again.

S:4

P:3

E:6

C:10

I:10

A:3

L:4

You have 5 points to spend but you can remove from one to add to another, max 10.

Don't Fill this Out

Inventory: Pre-War Suit, .357 magnum revolver. 50 .357 magnum rounds, science books, Hologram Control Blueprints, Chip on a string

Color:Red

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location:Sierra Madre

Bonus:[It's Letting Go] Your body is old and weary but your purpose in life pushes you forward with the strength from your youth. However in the end everyone must let go, or else they will be trapped.

1. I look at the blue prints, then realize

I'm not alone.

I programmed one of the hologram modules to make myself in my likeness upon my death, and the visage of Elijah appears before me.

Interesting. I should take him, if perhaps as a homage to the man who, admittedly, led to the events that saved me from that dark pitt.

But. . .so did the Courier. Who also brought Christine.'

I have nothing against him. And its unlikely we'll ever meet.

Regardless, start building my own Mobile Hologram devices. I'd like to get about a Dozen men with me, just for security.

2. I'm Also going to need a way to carry a giant Vending Machine, several bags of gear, the body of my beloved, and if possibly myself.

I'm going to need a way to cart it all through Ghost infested Villa and then through dust and gritty wasteland . . .out there.

There is a garage there full of cars, but. . .well, I remember the big warranties all the companies had about returning all cars "past their expiration date, or else there is risk of nuclear leakage and detonation"

And that was after 30 years.

It is now 200 years. . .

Let's just try to fix one.

>Try and fix a Car to run, or jury rig it to be pushably by hologram

>Nuclear radiation. . .isn't too much of a problem, it's the explodification

>Get some of the holograms to pull a car out and its engines. . .carefully

Rolled 51, 21 = 72 (2d100)

>>5636

Name: Lucky Linus

Age: Young Enough

Race: White

Species: Human

Fluff:

Lucky Linus was never a particularly smart individual. Nor was he particularly strong.. or a good shot. Or very resilient. Or enduring. Of course one could go on forever trying to judge Linus by his various faults, but nobody could disagree that despite all of this he was having a jolly good time. Of course this sometimes came at the expense of others who claimed it was "Luck".

Linus however knows for certain that things like good luck and bad luck are but mere pretentions. Chance is a set thing and it's not in favor of anyone but the well prepared. Still somehow robots seem to just accept his voice as security override which he believes to be a major design flaw.

When in combat Linus doesn't exactly shine at shooting or punching or anything like that. What is stunning however is how he manages to avoid being hit. Bullets, Lasers, Plasma. He has walked through more than one hail of gattling lasers coming out unscatched thanks to a mix of raw luck and incredible agility.

In the end in an armed conflict Linus usually just stalls the entire thing until a third party shows up to save his ass, which has worked ridiculously well up to this point.

S:4

P:4

E:4

C:5

I:3

A:10

L:10

>Inventory:

+ Lucky

+ 50 .375 bullets

+ Lucky Wasteland outfit

+ 500 Caps

>Color: White

>Level: 1

>Karma: Neutral

>Location: Fuck it New Vegas

>Bonus:

+ [Lucky Son of a Bitch]Flip a coin a dozen times and you will always call the right side, every roll of the dice is just what you need when the moment strikes. Be warned though every action has an equal and opposite reaction, and one day everyone's luck runs dry.

1-2. Well ladies! A man should always quit when it's best! After all he didnt want to get dragged out by the Casino's employees. Who knew what kind of sweet weaponry he could get for this? However a different game in a different Casino would be a smarter move. After all living life in the lab of luxury was an expensive undertaking.

Rolled 48, 23 = 71 (2d100)

>>5636

Name: Franz Mittier

Age: 32

Race: White

Species: Human

Fluff: Franz is a mercenary who has hoarded pre-war weapons for use and for trading, he has works for the NCR most of the time but has also worked for other smaller groups out in the wastes. He is descended from a German who fought in the great war many years ago and he has always been a grand strategist.

S:6

P:6

E:4

C:5

I:9

A:6

L:4

Inventory: Chinese Assault Rifle, 50 5.56 rounds, Pre War Trench Outfit

Color:Brown

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location:California

Bonus: [Pre war Cache] After years of scavenging you have received a map locating the whereabouts of a prewar weapon silo located somewhere in northern California.

1-2 Carefully sneak toward the area where the screams are coming from with my Assault Rifle drawn

Did this die? I really hope not

>>5454

Inventory:Scientist Glove, Lab Coat, Alien Blaster

Color:Green

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location: Definitely Not Area 51

Bonus:[Xenotechnology]: After years of study and research you have finally been able to reverse engineer some of the alien weaponry that you found destroyed in the layers of the base you've been squattin- I mean researching in!

>>5478

The sound of yelling from the distance alerts you that you have a bit of the lead on the raiders. You duck into a nearby grocery store giving yourself a few minutes of rest. You hear a crash from the back of the store

>>5552

To the north you head to what you last saw as the ruins of the town of Nippton. When last you were here you had seen the burnt remains of what was once a settlement. It surprises you to see what looks like civilians who have taken up residences and have even done large amounts of repairs to the once destroyed town.

>>5581

You sent out a small group of your boys to go looking for the would be thief. After a couple hours of silence they return to tell you that the tracks went cold. All they could tell is that he either made way to a grocery store or a library, but your boys didn't want to stay out in the dark.

>>5630

"Of course sir! My files inform me that there are 1000 Mr.Handy, and Gutsy models located in this facility."

You are taken a back by the pure size not expecting that many, you ask to see if this was an error.

"No sir no error, this facility was meant to be used as a storage unit for once the war was over."

Name: "The Shield of Aegis"

Age: 25

Race: White,

Species: Human

Fluff: "The Shield of Aegis" as they call him is a mercenary (usually doing bodyguarding) with him ending his latest contract and leaving the mercenary company for unknown reasons, he's now open for to anyone that needs extra muscle

S:5

P:10

E:5

C:5

I:5

A:5

L:5

Hoping to join in.

Name: Rebecca

Age: 86 years as a normal android. 1 year as this thing.

Race: Black

Species: Android\Robot fusion.

Fluff: You were created in the Commonwealth, an android like any other and you lived you life amongst the other androids and humans as normal as could be as a systems analyst for the massive research servers that formed the heart of the Commonwealth's science division. Basically you were IT. Eventually you became bored with your life and you wanted to do more. So you set off into the wasteland in search of that something. Given your own interests in advanced technology you decided to seek out MIT. And to your eternal despair you found it. Along with the robo-scorpions. You were attacked, overwhelmed and had both your legs turned into scrap. You thought this was the end. It was not. When you came to your legs were still gone, and instead you had been mounted onto the back of one of the robo-scorpions. Your control over the thing is iffy, and half the time it will do what it wants instead of what you do. Freaked out you did your best to head for home and hopefully to get you off this thing. Only to realize all your map data is gone. Given the secrecy the Commonwealth operates under and the fact that half the time you are heading in the direction the scorpion wants to go and not you, finding home is proving to be a challenge.

Rolled 66, 95 = 161 (2d100)

>>6347

>Name: Hisako

>Age: 28

>Race: Asian

>Species: Human

>Fluff: She had done it, she was a genius. None who knew about her work believed that it could be done, but then those who had known about her work were long dead. Not that she cared anymore, her work was finished! she had successfully repaired an alien power source, and it works! Soon she would recreate more technology and take over the country if not the entire globe! But first she'd have to create some weaponry and hire some goons that wont shoot her in the back first chance they get. Hahaha, success would be hers and so would the world!

>

>S:3

>P:4

>E:5

>C:4

>I:10

>A:4

>L:10

>

>Don't Fill this Out

>

>Inventory:

+Scientist Glove

+Lab Coat

+Alien Blaster

>Color: Green

>Level: 1

>Karma: Neutral

>Location: Definitely Not Area 51

>Bonus: [Xenotechnology]: After years of study and research you have finally been able to reverse engineer some of the alien weaponry that you found destroyed in the layers of the base you've been squattin- I mean researching in!

1. Begin reverse engineering one of these alien power sources, maybe I can get the base operational again!

2. Also search through the base for other useful things.

Rolled 44, 49 = 93 (2d100)

>>6347

Name: Vergil Jagter

Age: 24

Race: White

Species: Android

Fluff: Previously a scout with the brotherhood.

Vergil was assigned to scout out some weird Cinema. He was transported to some Research facility where some Robots experimented on him. Some of his organs have been Replaced with Artificial ones. He managed to escape somehow. He now Hunts NCR members for the Brotherhood, he too scared to return, for he knows how they love to take apart new tech.

S:3

P:7

E:7

C:2

I:6

A:8

L:7

>Inventory:Brother Hood Energy Scoped Rifle, 50 Electron Cells, Brotherhood Scout Armor

Color:White

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location:Mojave

1: search for a melee weapon.

2: Ask around for a quest or Job.

Rolled 21, 26 = 47 (2d100)

>>6347

Name: The Good Doctor

Age: 223

Race: N/A

Species Robot/AI

Fluff: The Good Doctor was left concealed far below a small, unnoticable Reppcon testing facility, in the land that is now Caesar's Legion, designed to preside over the accumulated knowledge of the company, and to manage the vast robotic workforce, along with the human high ups of the company. The Good Doctor dwells within an unnumbered vault, built by commision for Reppcon by Vault-Tec, which, unbeknownst to Reppcon, was designed as an experiment to test how Human's react to living to perfect efficiency, as Robots do.

Unsurprisingly, the Human workforce died out relatively quickly, not properly fed, cared for or looked after. The Good Doctor was unconcerned, the Humans were not relevant, and he was now the highest official within the Company. He announced himself as C.E.O, starting work on production of more robots, bringing the vault into a state of full activity. He ran out of the required materials very quickly, and reluctantly had to open the Vault Door, sending out several sentrybots and smaller security robots to secure the surrounding area. It appeared that the apocalypse had occured in their absence. Oh well. Back to work.

S:2

P:7

E:2

C:10

I:10

A:2

L:7

Inventory: Surgical Saw, Built in Laser

Color:Grey

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location:Caesar Territory

Bonus: [That's Mr.Dr.CEO.Robot Esquire to you sir]: You have been programmed by the heads of repconn to appear as a superior to other robots of their brand. Other robots of the Repcon family will regard you with a manner of respect and will override most other programming. However robots from the House brand or any other brand, as well as organic being will not be effected with your superiority over them.

1-2. Spiffing. Awaken 14 Mr. Handy units to begin repairing the reactor, along with the pair of us, and 6 Mr. Gutsy Units to begin defending/patrolling the vault. Activating the maximum possible number of units is our top priority, then we may regain contact with other Repconn facilites and establish overall cohesion in the company!

I misread the stats we could alocate, for some reason I thought we could had 10. So here is the proper stats for poor Rebecca.

S:5

P:7

E:5

C:5

I:8

A:5

L:5

You missed me you fool!

>>5787

You get to work salvaging the various scrap electronics and metal from around the base to repair the arrays. From your sensors you know you have about a week and a half before they'll need maintenance again. As you finish working you hear footsteps behind you.

"H-hey d-don't make any s-sudden movements! G-give me all you got!" She carries a 10mm in her hand and shakily points it at you.

>>5870

The Gun Runners say they are heading out west so you bail from that group. The group from the Cassidy Caravan say they are heading towards Vegas. The groups led by a pair of twins name Zeke and Emilia who say they are heading out tomorrow. You get paid when you get back.

>>5878

You work on what you thought was one Elijah prototype designs for a portable projector. However you soon realize that it was a design for a prewar snowcone machine that Elijah created while he was starving in the vault.

You scrounge around the desolated part of the hotel until you feel the tell tale signs of radiation "poison" patching up a cut you received the other day. Following the source you find the old abandoned car showcase empty with the exception of a few ghosts who scurry away at your presence. The fuel sources are completely dry but the cars seem to be in semi working order. If only you had a nuclear reactor at your disposal.

>>5879

You stroll out of the lucky 38 to the open street of New Vegas you make your way from casino to casino raking in the caps ending your night with a solid 300 caps in your pocket. You then realize that even with the caps you made you'd have to go back to the atomic wrangler unless you want to pay for a room.

>>5880

You follow the sound to find an ncr soldier surronded by a group of raiders. She's better armed but still out numbered 5 to 1

>>6371

You find one of the ship's which still has an engine intact. You could attempt to hook up its core to the fusion generator that runs the facility.

You move around the facility searching for someone else only to hear the sound of footsteps the floor below you.

>>6373

You manage to find an old legion machete on a corpse near the outside of the town. Add that to you inventory.

You make way to the town, where once a piles of corpses used to rest now a statue stands with a lone figure standing tall. On the other end of town you see what looks like a collection of graves, most of which lack any description of who was laid to rest there. If your looking for work you spy the town hall. You feel that's where they would be.

>>6376

"Right away sir!" Harold attempts to fly to get to work at his task but soon falters and crashes to the floor. "Oh my! It appears that my thrust modules have been damaged. My honest apologies sir but I am incapable of completing most tasks outside of scanning files without a replacement."

Rolled 8, 76 = 84 (2d100)

>>7308

>Name: Hisako

>Age: 28

>Race: Asian

>Species: Human

>Fluff: She had done it, she was a genius. None who knew about her work believed that it could be done, but then those who had known about her work were long dead. Not that she cared anymore, her work was finished! she had successfully repaired an alien power source, and it works! Soon she would recreate more technology and take over the country if not the entire globe! But first she'd have to create some weaponry and hire some goons that wont shoot her in the back first chance they get. Hahaha, success would be hers and so would the world!

>

>S:3

>P:4

>E:5

>C:4

>I:10

>A:4

>L:10

>

>Don't Fill this Out

>

>Inventory:

+Scientist Glove

+Lab Coat

+Alien Blaster

>Color: Green

>Level: 1

>Karma: Neutral

>Location: Definitely Not Area 51

>Bonus: [Xenotechnology]: After years of study and research you have finally been able to reverse engineer some of the alien weaponry that you found destroyed in the layers of the base you've been squattin- I mean researching in!

1. Take the alien pistol and investigate the noise.

2. Study the core find out the best way to hook it up to optimize power generation.

Rolled 11, 48 = 59 (2d100)

>>7308

Name: Mr. Sinclaire

Age: 219

Race: White

Species: Ghoul

Fluff:

I could have saved her. But I doomed her. Doomed us all. That damn trap of mine.

The gas didn't kill me, nor the fall, I fell far, into water, and darkness.

For endless times I stayed there, in madness, thinking of how I failed her. It would take 200 years before any signs of life came. I heard nothing but footsteps followed by explosions, and even had a headless body fall. By then I thought I was truly in hell. That was until the last battle, when an explosion knocked some long wiring down.

That was how I escaped the pit. My vault had been activated, locked, by this. . .Elijah. He was dead by the time I got there. The Vault sealed him in the trap I meant for Dean and. . .her, but couldn't undo.

My holograms recognized me. Let me walk to see my failure. I saw her everywhere, every hologram had her voice, I saw her body.

Then I saw /her/

Her name was Christine. She had her voice. She walked among the "ghost people."

She was old, but spoke like her.

She told me everything. Of the "Ghost People." Of the courier. Of Elijah.

But most of all, she told me of BIG MT. I knew the place, a world famous research center. Bought some tech from there myself before the bombs fell. She told me of how the men there had taken their own brains out to be put in robot bodies, and put them in and out of men. How things, even people could be cloned from the smallest bit of DNA.

Christine is dead. Old age got to her. Elijah is most certainly dead too. I still working on opening the vault, undoing my own work.

But I know this. I have her body. I have her DNA. I will regain control of the Sierra Madre and my casino. I will make my way to Big MT through this wasteland. I will fix my body. I will revive her, my Vera.

And I will never let her go again.

S:4

P:3

E:6

C:10

I:10

A:3

L:4

You have 5 points to spend but you can remove from one to add to another, max 10.

Don't Fill this Out

Inventory: Pre-War Suit, .357 magnum revolver. 50 .357 magnum rounds, science books, Hologram Control Blueprints, Chip on a string

Color:Red

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location:Sierra Madre

Bonus:[It's Letting Go] Your body is old and weary but your purpose in life pushes you forward with the strength from your youth. However in the end everyone must let go, or else they will be trapped.

1. I saw a Hologram blast apart some ghosts today and wonder to myself if 12 is a bit excessive. 1 Seems to be worth an entire army if what Elijah's last ponders are true.

Still, best to have spares in case one emitter breaks. Though these things are perhaps the most durable element of the Sierra Madre, virtually resistant to the Cloud, and the only way to turn them off is to manually disable them.

I think, I'll just work on getting the Old Man's hologram for mobile use. The one that had things gone differently, might have been my ghost.

2. I was a bit of a handyman in my prime, and that included knowing how to fix my cars whenever they broke down.

All the cores have probably rotted by now, except. . .

The Emitters. That's it. These things are loaded with high grade plutonium, far more potent than the shriveled things geneal atomics liked to put in their oh so fallible engines. You would think with radioactive materials that have half lives of thousands of years, they wouldn't need to make a car that could only run for 30.

I could extract one from an emitter, though the durability of these things to any form of damage has me question that logic.

I could also see about programming one to reroute it's energy output into the motor itself, replacing the old core housing unit entirely.

Rolled 94, 43 = 137 (2d100)

>>7308

Name: The Good Doctor

Age: 223

Race: N/A

Species Robot/AI

Fluff: The Good Doctor was left concealed far below a small, unnoticable Reppcon testing facility, in the land that is now Caesar's Legion, designed to preside over the accumulated knowledge of the company, and to manage the vast robotic workforce, along with the human high ups of the company. The Good Doctor dwells within an unnumbered vault, built by commision for Reppcon by Vault-Tec, which, unbeknownst to Reppcon, was designed as an experiment to test how Human's react to living to perfect efficiency, as Robots do.

Unsurprisingly, the Human workforce died out relatively quickly, not properly fed, cared for or looked after. The Good Doctor was unconcerned, the Humans were not relevant, and he was now the highest official within the Company. He announced himself as C.E.O, starting work on production of more robots, bringing the vault into a state of full activity. He ran out of the required materials very quickly, and reluctantly had to open the Vault Door, sending out several sentrybots and smaller security robots to secure the surrounding area. It appeared that the apocalypse had occured in their absence. Oh well. Back to work.

S:2

P:7

E:2

C:10

I:10

A:2

L:7

Inventory: Surgical Saw, Built in Laser

Color:Grey

Level:1

Karma:Neutral

Location:Caesar Territory

Bonus: [That's Mr.Dr.CEO.Robot Esquire to you sir]: You have been programmed by the heads of repconn to appear as a superior to other robots of their brand. Other robots of the Repcon family will regard you with a manner of respect and will override most other programming. However robots from the House brand or any other brand, as well as organic being will not be effected with your superiority over them.

1-2. Well then, I shall begin in your stead. Herald, you are to take a half hour for recovery and recalibrating your movement capabilities, Onward as planned, but I shall work in the Herald's stead!

Rolled 97, 33 = 130 (2d100)

>>7308

Name: Lucky Linus

Age: Young Enough

Race: White

Species: Human

Fluff:

Lucky Linus was never a particularly smart individual. Nor was he particularly strong.. or a good shot. Or very resilient. Or enduring. Of course one could go on forever trying to judge Linus by his various faults, but nobody could disagree that despite all of this he was having a jolly good time. Of course this sometimes came at the expense of others who claimed it was "Luck".

Linus however knows for certain that things like good luck and bad luck are but mere pretentions. Chance is a set thing and it's not in favor of anyone but the well prepared. Still somehow robots seem to just accept his voice as security override which he believes to be a major design flaw.

When in combat Linus doesn't exactly shine at shooting or punching or anything like that. What is stunning however is how he manages to avoid being hit. Bullets, Lasers, Plasma. He has walked through more than one hail of gattling lasers coming out unscatched thanks to a mix of raw luck and incredible agility.

In the end in an armed conflict Linus usually just stalls the entire thing until a third party shows up to save his ass, which has worked ridiculously well up to this point.

S:4

P:4

E:4

C:5

I:3

A:10

L:10

>Inventory:

+ Lucky

+ 50 .375 bullets

+ Lucky Wasteland outfit

+ 800 Caps

>Color: White

>Level: 1

>Karma: Neutral

>Location: Fuck it New Vegas

>Bonus:

+ [Lucky Son of a Bitch]Flip a coin a dozen times and you will always call the right side, every roll of the dice is just what you need when the moment strikes. Be warned though every action has an equal and opposite reaction, and one day everyone's luck runs dry.

1-2. Paying for a room was not all that bad of an idea! Linus would find a nice place to stay. If he got really lucky he would even find someone to keep him company for the time.