This is a new Steampunk Western RP that the Colonel and I are planning, and we're looking for contributors. It won't be freely drop in/drop out, but if you want, we can work something out at a point in the adventure. The year is 1859. The story starts in the town of Dodge, Kansas. The characters are in a saloon in the slaughterhouse district.
-Horses are for middle and lower class people. The military, law enforcement, and upper classes all use steam-powered horse automatons, or "burners". These are classified by their metal plating:
Iron: Draft horse
Steel: Cavalry, heavy
Brass: Cavalry, light
Copper: Civilian, fast and weak
Bronze: Civilian, slow and tough
Tin: Pony
-Railroads have been established throughout all the major towns. They also run on steam, as do the zeppelins that service large cites.
-Where there is no steam, there is clockwork. Used since the beginning of the century, clockwork powers smaller machines and cut-rate automatons.
-In the early stages of development are some gigantic war machines; walkers, battle carriages, Darwinist mutants, the like. The American state governments are all buying them as tensions between the North and South grow hotter.
-Charles Darwin and Nikola Tesla are both regarded as great scientific individuals, responsible for mush of the world's rapid growth. (Ignore the timeline issues.)
-Firearms are still somewhat the same as in this period in history, with sniper rifles, hi-powered steam and clockwork guns, and rockets, as well as combat automatons, being some differences.
*Mustard's Stuff*
-Due to Darwin's recent theories and progress in mutation, white Southerners have adopted the idea that Anglo-Saxon Americans are God's chosen race, who are superior to all others through natural selection on account of the fact that they've conquered most of the known world.
-Secondly, in order to make them more efficient at working, black slaves are genetically manipulated and mutated. Generally, there could be a huge social stigma against mutating people (if they're not genetically superior white Anglo-Saxon people, at least) but seeing as black people are seen as subhuman there's not a problem for them there.
-Anyway, this leads me into my next point; people are sometimes mutated using genetic manipulation for various reasons, and these mutants face the same level of prejudice and bigotry that black people would have faced at the time, even if they're white, on account of being 'genetically corrupt'. As a result, having 'indentured mutants' is a thing where they're kept as slaves in all but name; one of the things Lincoln can be pushing for, and one of the things that eventually sparks a civil war, is giving mutants the same legal standing as non-mutants. I'll admit that the idea is shamelessly cribbed from the Remade in China Mieville's Bas-Lag novels, but it could be interesting.
- Minor occult element in their as well; occultism was a big thing in the West around that time, with people convinced stuff like telepathy, telekinesis and communicating with the dead could work, and could work in a scientific manner as well. It could be interesting to have something like telepaths and telekines (perhaps limited ones) and mediums be included in the world. The pioneer of telepathic practice was and is Sigmund Freud.
-Since Darwin, Tesla, and Freud have contributed so much to this society, they have almost Demi-God status and some people actually worship them, with neither their encouragement nor approval.
Happy trails, pardners.
Full Version: Steam and Steel Discussion Thread
It's up, hooray!
Still need to think of a character, though.
Still need to think of a character, though.
Ooh, I can FINALLY bring Black Betty in! I was so disappointed when that RP never came into fruition.
Alright, here's my character. Let's be off, and all that.
Name: Mr Algernon 'Algy' Demontjoy (In reality, it's Lucius Delmont, but due to...extenuating circumstances he prefers not to use that name)
Age: 26
Appearance: A gentleman of refinement, class and style, Mr Delmont is never, ever improperly dressed. His three-piece suits (which he always wears) are perfectly tailored, and the top hats that he wears with them will, of course, be colour co-ordinated with his suit. His right arm is mechanical, a finely crafted device of brass, ivory and ceramics, with a pen placed in the tip of his main index finger. The right side of his head, as well as most of his forehead and the top of his skull, is covered with an expressionless mask of white china, and what remains of his hair is black (it goes without saying that it is meticulously kept). Those who might see him beneath his shirt will discover that most of the right side of his torso is covered in finely engraved steel.
Occupation: When asked, Lucius typically describes himself thus; "I am a gentleman of business. In stocks, typically, but also in railroads, gold, steel or telegram wires. Wherever there is money, you see." In reality, he is a fraud, cheat, con-man and liar, who make his money ripping off whoever he feels is the most profitable.
Skills: Lying, bluffing, fast-talking, cheating at gambling (that's his bread-and-butter, really, when he isn't thinking up larger and more profitable schemes), forgery, being generally charming and socially adept, affecting a very convincing English accent ("An English accent is the most refined, you see. Unless it is Northern. Perish the thought of those accents!").
Worldly possessions: His extensive array of suits and fashionable clothing, tools used for forgery. For weapons, he carries a Smith and Wesson Automatic Dual-Chambered Revolver ("A revolver is a gentleman's weapon. Any other firearm just seems crass to me") and has a foot long blade of thin, straight steel concealed in his mechanical right arm.
Biography: The story he gives is that he is an Englishman born into a family of noble descent, but one that is absolutely penniless, and that he came here to the new world to seek his fortune anew. If you believe him, the reason he gives for his extensive mechanical injuries are of an unfortunately timed accidental explosion at a railway site he was inspecting with the thought that he might invest in it.
In reality, 'Algernon' was born and raised in New York, and has never visited anywhere in Europe, let alone England. There, he grew up doing what he currently does in the south; ripping people off and conducting elaborate schemes in order to rip people off for even more money than usual. Unfortunately, one of his schemes ended up going awry and a local crime boss was out for Lucius' blood; in what was supposed to be an execution, he was brutally beaten, attacked with a knife, lost his arm and was left for dead.
Miraculously, he survived and was able to pay for a mechanical arm as well as appropriately fashionable coverings for his injuries. It was abundantly clear to him, however, that getting out of New York as soon as possible would be greatly conducive to his continued survival, so he upped sticks and headed south without a word, starting a new life under a new name and new personality. Either unwilling or unable to learn from his past experiences, 'Algy' now does much the same as he did before, with his main targets being rich, (usually) single women he can take in by his act as a down-on-his-luck aristocrat from the motherland.
Name: Mr Algernon 'Algy' Demontjoy (In reality, it's Lucius Delmont, but due to...extenuating circumstances he prefers not to use that name)
Age: 26
Appearance: A gentleman of refinement, class and style, Mr Delmont is never, ever improperly dressed. His three-piece suits (which he always wears) are perfectly tailored, and the top hats that he wears with them will, of course, be colour co-ordinated with his suit. His right arm is mechanical, a finely crafted device of brass, ivory and ceramics, with a pen placed in the tip of his main index finger. The right side of his head, as well as most of his forehead and the top of his skull, is covered with an expressionless mask of white china, and what remains of his hair is black (it goes without saying that it is meticulously kept). Those who might see him beneath his shirt will discover that most of the right side of his torso is covered in finely engraved steel.
Occupation: When asked, Lucius typically describes himself thus; "I am a gentleman of business. In stocks, typically, but also in railroads, gold, steel or telegram wires. Wherever there is money, you see." In reality, he is a fraud, cheat, con-man and liar, who make his money ripping off whoever he feels is the most profitable.
Skills: Lying, bluffing, fast-talking, cheating at gambling (that's his bread-and-butter, really, when he isn't thinking up larger and more profitable schemes), forgery, being generally charming and socially adept, affecting a very convincing English accent ("An English accent is the most refined, you see. Unless it is Northern. Perish the thought of those accents!").
Worldly possessions: His extensive array of suits and fashionable clothing, tools used for forgery. For weapons, he carries a Smith and Wesson Automatic Dual-Chambered Revolver ("A revolver is a gentleman's weapon. Any other firearm just seems crass to me") and has a foot long blade of thin, straight steel concealed in his mechanical right arm.
Biography: The story he gives is that he is an Englishman born into a family of noble descent, but one that is absolutely penniless, and that he came here to the new world to seek his fortune anew. If you believe him, the reason he gives for his extensive mechanical injuries are of an unfortunately timed accidental explosion at a railway site he was inspecting with the thought that he might invest in it.
In reality, 'Algernon' was born and raised in New York, and has never visited anywhere in Europe, let alone England. There, he grew up doing what he currently does in the south; ripping people off and conducting elaborate schemes in order to rip people off for even more money than usual. Unfortunately, one of his schemes ended up going awry and a local crime boss was out for Lucius' blood; in what was supposed to be an execution, he was brutally beaten, attacked with a knife, lost his arm and was left for dead.
Miraculously, he survived and was able to pay for a mechanical arm as well as appropriately fashionable coverings for his injuries. It was abundantly clear to him, however, that getting out of New York as soon as possible would be greatly conducive to his continued survival, so he upped sticks and headed south without a word, starting a new life under a new name and new personality. Either unwilling or unable to learn from his past experiences, 'Algy' now does much the same as he did before, with his main targets being rich, (usually) single women he can take in by his act as a down-on-his-luck aristocrat from the motherland.
Name: Jonah Markwit
Age: 22
Occupation: Aeronautical Engineer
Appearance: Jonah is pale, pasty and thin as a wire. He is most decidedly not a cowboy, indeed. He spends most of his time indoors, fooling with his various inventions. He dresses neatly, if only by virtue of never having to get dirty. He usually wears a brown wool vest over a white cotton shirt, a brown felt bowler hat with black ribbon, brown trousers, and standard cowboy boots. He also has a pair of green-glass goggles he wears when the sun is simply too much for one hat. He has long brown hair, kept trimmed in a bob, long thin fingers, brown eyes, and a long pointed nose.
History: Born in San Francisco, Jonah took up work for the Union Pacific Railroad, supervising tunnel building. He rose through the ranks to become a zeppelin engineer, and designed his own, "The Capricorn." He does freelance work around the west and is in Dodge to assist with the changing of the compressors on a cross-country skyliner.
Personality: Detached and aloof. Not a mean-spirited person, just an apathetic, uncaring person. He thinks nothing of gender or race. He does, however, take into account your social standing. Rich people are his favorite kind of people, particularly rich people he can talk into investing. Overall just out of it, spacy, and generally just not caring.
Possessions: Plans for the "Capricorn", a copper-plated burner, a flask of whiskey, some beef jerky, a small Bowie knife, and a Winchester Steam Carbine. This weapon fires silently, leaving only a near-invisible discharge in the air. It fires far, as well, up to 1000 yards. This baby was picked up in Louisville with some extra cash, and he's kept it for protection ever since. Slung over his shoulder, it's his only weapon.
Skills: Sneaking, code breaking, arithmetic, shooting (to a degree), running fast, not dying, riding, hiding.
Age: 22
Occupation: Aeronautical Engineer
Appearance: Jonah is pale, pasty and thin as a wire. He is most decidedly not a cowboy, indeed. He spends most of his time indoors, fooling with his various inventions. He dresses neatly, if only by virtue of never having to get dirty. He usually wears a brown wool vest over a white cotton shirt, a brown felt bowler hat with black ribbon, brown trousers, and standard cowboy boots. He also has a pair of green-glass goggles he wears when the sun is simply too much for one hat. He has long brown hair, kept trimmed in a bob, long thin fingers, brown eyes, and a long pointed nose.
History: Born in San Francisco, Jonah took up work for the Union Pacific Railroad, supervising tunnel building. He rose through the ranks to become a zeppelin engineer, and designed his own, "The Capricorn." He does freelance work around the west and is in Dodge to assist with the changing of the compressors on a cross-country skyliner.
Personality: Detached and aloof. Not a mean-spirited person, just an apathetic, uncaring person. He thinks nothing of gender or race. He does, however, take into account your social standing. Rich people are his favorite kind of people, particularly rich people he can talk into investing. Overall just out of it, spacy, and generally just not caring.
Possessions: Plans for the "Capricorn", a copper-plated burner, a flask of whiskey, some beef jerky, a small Bowie knife, and a Winchester Steam Carbine. This weapon fires silently, leaving only a near-invisible discharge in the air. It fires far, as well, up to 1000 yards. This baby was picked up in Louisville with some extra cash, and he's kept it for protection ever since. Slung over his shoulder, it's his only weapon.
Skills: Sneaking, code breaking, arithmetic, shooting (to a degree), running fast, not dying, riding, hiding.
Copying and pasting my Black Betty character sheet from the Turn of the Century RPG we STARTED. changing a few things.
Name: Betty Bridges
Alias/nickname: Black Betty
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Race:Hispanic mixed with Irish
Nationality: American
Career: Prostitute/information specialist
Skills: Forgery, kickboxing-type martial arts, throwing-knives
Gang affiliation (if any): none
Equipment: Switchblade
Clothing and Appearance:
She has deep red hair, thick and curly, to her waist. Wears red lipstick to match her hair and black eyeshadow, heavy eyeliner. She's pale and curvy, standing at a height of 5'5'' and 160 lbs. Several tattoos on her body, including full sleeves on both her arms of various colorful images, and up the sides of both her legs and twining up her torso. Has cybernetic-looking bat wings tatted on her back as well. Wears black dresses with deep red undertones. Has the pale skin and freckles of her irish ancestors, but the build of her hispanic ancestors.
History: Betty grew up in a Southern town in America with her grandmother. Her parents were killed when she was four by a serial killer passing through her town. A black slave was strung up and accused of the murderers, even though he was innocent. Being the only eyewitness and due to her young age, her pleas that he was innocent went unheard as the man was lynched in the streets. her grandmother picked them up and moved to Dodge, Kansas, where she died twelve years later, leaving a young Betty alone in the town.
With no formal schooling other than basic learning, Betty was forced to turn to prostituting. Taken in by the local Guild, she was educated in the arts of pickpocketing, grooming, self-defense, art, Western culture as well as music. (She has a lovely singing voice, ask any of her Johns.)
With her former life gone, Betty woos and beds the highest standing public officials. Her recommendations spotless as well as her reputation as a prostitute (disease-free, cybernetic and mutation free, as well as cultured, soft-spoken, and intelligent) has made her highly sought-after, both for her skills and her company.
Name: Betty Bridges
Alias/nickname: Black Betty
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Race:Hispanic mixed with Irish
Nationality: American
Career: Prostitute/information specialist
Skills: Forgery, kickboxing-type martial arts, throwing-knives
Gang affiliation (if any): none
Equipment: Switchblade
Clothing and Appearance:
She has deep red hair, thick and curly, to her waist. Wears red lipstick to match her hair and black eyeshadow, heavy eyeliner. She's pale and curvy, standing at a height of 5'5'' and 160 lbs. Several tattoos on her body, including full sleeves on both her arms of various colorful images, and up the sides of both her legs and twining up her torso. Has cybernetic-looking bat wings tatted on her back as well. Wears black dresses with deep red undertones. Has the pale skin and freckles of her irish ancestors, but the build of her hispanic ancestors.
History: Betty grew up in a Southern town in America with her grandmother. Her parents were killed when she was four by a serial killer passing through her town. A black slave was strung up and accused of the murderers, even though he was innocent. Being the only eyewitness and due to her young age, her pleas that he was innocent went unheard as the man was lynched in the streets. her grandmother picked them up and moved to Dodge, Kansas, where she died twelve years later, leaving a young Betty alone in the town.
With no formal schooling other than basic learning, Betty was forced to turn to prostituting. Taken in by the local Guild, she was educated in the arts of pickpocketing, grooming, self-defense, art, Western culture as well as music. (She has a lovely singing voice, ask any of her Johns.)
With her former life gone, Betty woos and beds the highest standing public officials. Her recommendations spotless as well as her reputation as a prostitute (disease-free, cybernetic and mutation free, as well as cultured, soft-spoken, and intelligent) has made her highly sought-after, both for her skills and her company.
Correct me if I'm wrong but so far we seem to be all "non-combatants". Don't get me wrong, I'm all for brains over brawn here, but perhaps a more tanky character would help, if anyone plans on joining in the future.
Uhhh...Betty knows martial arts...and throws knives...she seems pretty combative. Maybe she's not pistol-whipping pimps, but she can defend herself.
Alright, alright, just asking, wasn't sure.
I think I'm sober enough to post now XD
If anything is off, please let me know.
EDIT:
Just so we're clear about the prices, I did a bit of research and prostitutes charge about $50-$150 for oral sex NOW, depending on time of day, circumstances, and dress of the man.
Converting the currency from 1860, $1 equals about $10.22(back in 1980) I'm sticking with those prices because Liz no like math and not sober all the way, lol.
So five bucks back then is $50.10 with my conversion. So five bucks for a handy was pretty expensive, but still on the lower side. Given Betty's expertise, she normally charges about ten to twenty dollars, but because of the dingy area, she's lowering her prices. She's in no way a "cheap whore," but makes exceptions.
If a woman NOW says "five bucks for a handy," RUN.
If anything is off, please let me know.
EDIT:
Just so we're clear about the prices, I did a bit of research and prostitutes charge about $50-$150 for oral sex NOW, depending on time of day, circumstances, and dress of the man.
Converting the currency from 1860, $1 equals about $10.22(back in 1980) I'm sticking with those prices because Liz no like math and not sober all the way, lol.
So five bucks back then is $50.10 with my conversion. So five bucks for a handy was pretty expensive, but still on the lower side. Given Betty's expertise, she normally charges about ten to twenty dollars, but because of the dingy area, she's lowering her prices. She's in no way a "cheap whore," but makes exceptions.
If a woman NOW says "five bucks for a handy," RUN.
So I know this is way way in the future plot and rp wise, but I saw this travel show about South America at the gym and this came into my head: We have to go fight an Incan god. 
@Lizzie: O...k....I'll...letyouknowohmyjesuswhy?!
@Lizzie: O...k....I'll...letyouknowohmyjesuswhy?!
I'm just trying to help with the currency issue lol
EDIT: Here's an Inflation Calculator to help a bit.
EDIT: Here's an Inflation Calculator to help a bit.
Chorrol forums; destroying Rohirrim's innocence one post at a time.
I'm not sure what he was expecting when I said she was a prostitute.
I wasn't expecting a price list 
You're almost too thorough, I swear!
You're almost too thorough, I swear!
Nonesense! i'm ill-prepared, if anything, and overcompensating by being too specific on the things I DO understand lol
Wow, saw the other thread and thought it sounded interesting, looked in here, was not expecting what I saw.
Is that a good or bad thing?
C'mon in, Thorny Boy...and I'll show you how deep the rabbit hole goes... 
Oh man, it's my turn, innit?
QUOTE(Elisabeth Hollow @ Oct 30 2013, 05:21 PM) 
Oh man, it's my turn, innit?
Yeeeeeeeeeeep.
Turning on computer now.
QUOTE(Elisabeth Hollow @ Oct 30 2013, 08:37 PM)
Is that a good or bad thing?
At this point I'm still on alarming, and trying to coax my eyebrows out of my hair.
QUOTE(Rohirrim @ Oct 30 2013, 09:18 PM)
C'mon in, Thorny Boy...and I'll show you how deep the rabbit hole goes...
You do realize that that could be taken in context with Liz's above post regarding prices in an even more eyebrow raising way right?
Anyway, moving on, or away just in case. The thread does sound interesting. Might see if I can think up something that might fit.
Just a heads up, if I'm in an RP, I'm not going to be shy or afraid of sexual situations or innuendos, lol
Well there it's in context. That post here just kind of came out of nowhere. Like a stealth truck or something.
But my eyebrows are back in place now, so it's all good.
I'm thinking this thing needs a bounty hunter.
But my eyebrows are back in place now, so it's all good.
I'm thinking this thing needs a bounty hunter.
Ooooh! Bounty hunters are badass!!!!
Yeah, I've always had a soft spot for bounty hunters. I'm thinking pale and wiry, mid 40's, weatherbeaten and scarred. Revolver slung low on his hip, large calibre clockwork rifle on his back, brown leather storm coat and boots. Cold, callous, and professional, with steel blue eyes that dart around the room, as if constantly searching for a face to match to a poster.
It needs fleshing out, but you get the idea.
Unless Rohirrim objects of course.
It needs fleshing out, but you get the idea.
Unless Rohirrim objects of course.
I don't think he would.
Nor do I.
QUOTE(Rohirrim @ Oct 30 2013, 06:57 PM)
Nor do I.
See? Not even Rohirrim thinks he'll object XD
Well I suppose I'd better see what I can come up with then.
Edit: Well, here goes nothing:
Gregor Jones
46
Bounty Hunter
Average height, broad shouldered, pale and wiry. Weatherbeaten face, with a scar on the left hand side running from the jawline to the temple, pulling his mouth into a slight sneer. His eyes are the pale, cold blue of steel, always in motion. His clothes are hard wearing, and show it. A brown leather storm coat and boots, faded denim trousers, and a once white shirt. At his left hip is a quick-draw holster containing a revolver, slung so low on his hip it's secured to his thigh with a second strap. Across his back, the stock rising well above his right shoulder, is a high calibre clockwork rifle, showing signs of both heavy use and meticulous care. Beneath his battered stetson hat, also brown, he keeps his dark brown hair cut short, less than half an inch of it, with the first hints of grey showing at the temples.
History: No friends, no family. He's always been a loner, and hasn't set foot in the town he was born in decades. He changed his name when he left, and speaks of his past to no-one, leaving his background a mystery known only to him. If asked he'll claim to have been a bounty hunter for the last 25 years, and has the scars to prove it.
Personality: Cold, detached, professional. The consummate loner, the closest thing he has to a friend or companion is his horse, whom he talks while riding. Even in this he's somewhat detached, calling it "horse" rather than giving it a name. The only things that he shows any affection to are his weapons, of which he has plenty, mostly concealed. All of them he has given names, and he cares for them with a passion bordering on obsession. Stubborn as a mule, and refuses to give in/die.
Skills: Expert marksman, quick-draw specialist, knife fighting, horse riding, maintains own weapons.
Possessions: Beyond those mentioned above, a knife concealed in his left sleeve via a simple spring mechanism, a second in his right boot, and a length of thick chain in his right pocket, sharpened to an edge on one side. Also carries a second revolver, of a smaller calibre, in an underarm holster. And ammunition for his guns of course. Has a horse.
So what do you guys think?
Edit: Well, here goes nothing:
Gregor Jones
46
Bounty Hunter
Average height, broad shouldered, pale and wiry. Weatherbeaten face, with a scar on the left hand side running from the jawline to the temple, pulling his mouth into a slight sneer. His eyes are the pale, cold blue of steel, always in motion. His clothes are hard wearing, and show it. A brown leather storm coat and boots, faded denim trousers, and a once white shirt. At his left hip is a quick-draw holster containing a revolver, slung so low on his hip it's secured to his thigh with a second strap. Across his back, the stock rising well above his right shoulder, is a high calibre clockwork rifle, showing signs of both heavy use and meticulous care. Beneath his battered stetson hat, also brown, he keeps his dark brown hair cut short, less than half an inch of it, with the first hints of grey showing at the temples.
History: No friends, no family. He's always been a loner, and hasn't set foot in the town he was born in decades. He changed his name when he left, and speaks of his past to no-one, leaving his background a mystery known only to him. If asked he'll claim to have been a bounty hunter for the last 25 years, and has the scars to prove it.
Personality: Cold, detached, professional. The consummate loner, the closest thing he has to a friend or companion is his horse, whom he talks while riding. Even in this he's somewhat detached, calling it "horse" rather than giving it a name. The only things that he shows any affection to are his weapons, of which he has plenty, mostly concealed. All of them he has given names, and he cares for them with a passion bordering on obsession. Stubborn as a mule, and refuses to give in/die.
Skills: Expert marksman, quick-draw specialist, knife fighting, horse riding, maintains own weapons.
Possessions: Beyond those mentioned above, a knife concealed in his left sleeve via a simple spring mechanism, a second in his right boot, and a length of thick chain in his right pocket, sharpened to an edge on one side. Also carries a second revolver, of a smaller calibre, in an underarm holster. And ammunition for his guns of course. Has a horse.
So what do you guys think?
I've been toying with this: Build the Capricorn after a bit, and have it act as a sort of hub/mobile home/excuse to go to cool places. What think?
QUOTE(Rohirrim @ Oct 31 2013, 06:10 PM)
I've been toying with this: Build the Capricorn after a bit, and have it act as a sort of hub/mobile home/excuse to go to cool places. What think?
Sounds like a cool idea to me, though I warn you in advance that I will probably start insisting on calling it the Normandicorn, because I'm like that.
QUOTE(Colonel Mustard @ Oct 31 2013, 02:17 PM)
QUOTE(Rohirrim @ Oct 31 2013, 06:10 PM)
I've been toying with this: Build the Capricorn after a bit, and have it act as a sort of hub/mobile home/excuse to go to cool places. What think?
Sounds like a cool idea to me, though I warn you in advance that I will probably start insisting on calling it the Normandicorn, because I'm like that.
What?
QUOTE(Rohirrim @ Oct 31 2013, 06:31 PM)
QUOTE(Colonel Mustard @ Oct 31 2013, 02:17 PM)
QUOTE(Rohirrim @ Oct 31 2013, 06:10 PM)
I've been toying with this: Build the Capricorn after a bit, and have it act as a sort of hub/mobile home/excuse to go to cool places. What think?
Sounds like a cool idea to me, though I warn you in advance that I will probably start insisting on calling it the Normandicorn, because I'm like that.
What?
Just go with 'because Mustard is like that' and leave it there. It's easier all round.
QUOTE(Colonel Mustard @ Oct 31 2013, 01:32 PM)
QUOTE(Rohirrim @ Oct 31 2013, 06:31 PM)
QUOTE(Colonel Mustard @ Oct 31 2013, 02:17 PM)
QUOTE(Rohirrim @ Oct 31 2013, 06:10 PM)
I've been toying with this: Build the Capricorn after a bit, and have it act as a sort of hub/mobile home/excuse to go to cool places. What think?
Sounds like a cool idea to me, though I warn you in advance that I will probably start insisting on calling it the Normandicorn, because I'm like that.
What?
Just go with 'because Mustard is like that' and leave it there. It's easier all round.
Roger that, Shepherd.
QUOTE(Elisabeth Hollow @ Oct 31 2013, 07:47 PM)
QUOTE(Colonel Mustard @ Oct 31 2013, 01:32 PM)
QUOTE(Rohirrim @ Oct 31 2013, 06:31 PM)
QUOTE(Colonel Mustard @ Oct 31 2013, 02:17 PM)
QUOTE(Rohirrim @ Oct 31 2013, 06:10 PM)
I've been toying with this: Build the Capricorn after a bit, and have it act as a sort of hub/mobile home/excuse to go to cool places. What think?
Sounds like a cool idea to me, though I warn you in advance that I will probably start insisting on calling it the Normandicorn, because I'm like that.
What?
Just go with 'because Mustard is like that' and leave it there. It's easier all round.
Roger that, Shepherd.
Psst, it's Shepard
Though it now does make me want to write a ME fanfic with a protagonist with the surname of 'Shepherd' and just have a running gag of "No, 'H-E-R-D' Shepherd."
No, remember they call Shephard "the shepherd" at the cutscene at the end of three?
QUOTE(Elisabeth Hollow @ Oct 31 2013, 08:06 PM)
No, remember they call Shephard "the shepherd" at the cutscene at the end of three?
I prefer to ignore that cutscene.
Also, Callidus, I just saw your character post! Gregor looks cool, bring him in.
I'll be out of town this weekend, so I might not be posting much, if any.
QUOTE(Colonel Mustard @ Nov 1 2013, 11:34 AM)
QUOTE(Elisabeth Hollow @ Oct 31 2013, 08:06 PM)
No, remember they call Shephard "the shepherd" at the cutscene at the end of three?
I prefer to ignore that cutscene.
Also, Callidus, I just saw your character post! Gregor looks cool, bring him in.
I'll take a crack at it.
I can't guarantee it'll be great, but I'll do my best.
Here goes nothing...
Sorry...got kind of carried away with my post...
Had to bail. That character was really starting to bug me. Two parts cliche, one part knock-off, and an antisocial character in that sort of thread's just daft. Besides, I couldn't match you guys anyhow.
Are you leaving for good? Cuz' you shouldn't.
Cuz' you shouldn't.
Wouldn't want to drag the quality of the thead down just to make up the numbers.
Hell I couldn't even keep my character consistent.
Hell I couldn't even keep my character consistent.
Neither can I! Jonah's quite uncharacteristically chatty, in my opinion. That's my little gripe about these things. It's hard to have a brusque, antisocial character, because talking's the name of the game. I really encourage you to stay, but it is, of course, your decision.
Jonah's quite uncharacteristically chatty, in my opinion. That's my little gripe about these things. It's hard to have a brusque, antisocial character, because talking's the name of the game. I really encourage you to stay, but it is, of course, your decision.
Don't worry about consistency. Find a character you feel confortable with and go with it. I've never played a prostitute before, and had to do a bit of research, but role-playing is one part research, one part improvisation, and all enjoyment. If you have to mull over a character a bit, let us know.
Eventually I think we should all try for a Blazing Saddles (episode? What are we calling these? Sequences? What?). I can see it now: "The mutant is a nBONG!" "He says the mutant is near!" "No gosh dern it, the robot is a nBONG!"
I can see it now: "The mutant is a nBONG!" "He says the mutant is near!" "No gosh dern it, the robot is a nBONG!"
Omfg I love that movie!
Gotta watch it tonight now...
Gotta watch it tonight now...
Okay, since my brain has got completely snared by this, it wouldn't shut up about it. Here's the result:
Name: Percival Bradshaw
Age: 28
Occupation: Currently none. He's a madcap tinkerer, and was just fired for, well, tinkering.
Appearance: Pale, above average height, and rather skinny. Wears a coat that goes down to his knees, the slleves rolled up to the elbows, which doesn't button up. Beneath that he wears black trousers and a steel breastplate, cannibalised from a combat automaton, which is a little too large for him and is held in place by a combination of a modified toolbelt, and a bandoleer with a holster for his revolver. Somewhere under there is a white cotton shirt and a waistcoat that's seen better days. Also wears a strange leather helmet or hat that's apparently there solely to accomodate the clockwork powered lens array, for when he's tinkering. His left arm is mechanical from the elbow down, he lost it in an embarassing accident involving a steam engine that he was, yes, tinkering with. A technical masterpiece of burnished bronze and polished steel, it's been extensively and creatively modified.
History: Originally from England, he came over to America and has been bouncing from place to place. Taking what mechanical work he can before inevitably being thrown out for tinkering too much.
Personality: Neurotic. A bundle of nervous energy, he frequently mutters to himself while working, and tends to talk at length, often rambling as he does so. Can't see anything mechanical without thinking of ways to improve or modify it, and rarely thinks of the consequences of doing so.
Possessions:. A custom-built double barreled rifle, with revolving chambers and a clockwork powered counterweight system, making it accurate to about 300 yards, with a switch to choose between firing both barrels at once, or one at a time. A heavily modified revolver (like the one in Bioshock), three pocketwatches, innumerable tools and spare parts, and a bronze plated burner.
Skills: Can fix almost anything, and can then tinker with it until it breaks. A reasonably good shot, and has some knowledge of explosives.
This is probably a good way over the top, so feel free to call me out on anything that needs to be changed.
Name: Percival Bradshaw
Age: 28
Occupation: Currently none. He's a madcap tinkerer, and was just fired for, well, tinkering.
Appearance: Pale, above average height, and rather skinny. Wears a coat that goes down to his knees, the slleves rolled up to the elbows, which doesn't button up. Beneath that he wears black trousers and a steel breastplate, cannibalised from a combat automaton, which is a little too large for him and is held in place by a combination of a modified toolbelt, and a bandoleer with a holster for his revolver. Somewhere under there is a white cotton shirt and a waistcoat that's seen better days. Also wears a strange leather helmet or hat that's apparently there solely to accomodate the clockwork powered lens array, for when he's tinkering. His left arm is mechanical from the elbow down, he lost it in an embarassing accident involving a steam engine that he was, yes, tinkering with. A technical masterpiece of burnished bronze and polished steel, it's been extensively and creatively modified.
History: Originally from England, he came over to America and has been bouncing from place to place. Taking what mechanical work he can before inevitably being thrown out for tinkering too much.
Personality: Neurotic. A bundle of nervous energy, he frequently mutters to himself while working, and tends to talk at length, often rambling as he does so. Can't see anything mechanical without thinking of ways to improve or modify it, and rarely thinks of the consequences of doing so.
Possessions:. A custom-built double barreled rifle, with revolving chambers and a clockwork powered counterweight system, making it accurate to about 300 yards, with a switch to choose between firing both barrels at once, or one at a time. A heavily modified revolver (like the one in Bioshock), three pocketwatches, innumerable tools and spare parts, and a bronze plated burner.
Skills: Can fix almost anything, and can then tinker with it until it breaks. A reasonably good shot, and has some knowledge of explosives.
This is probably a good way over the top, so feel free to call me out on anything that needs to be changed.
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