As you can probably tell, i've let this one die. sorry.


This is the story of a group of Wastelanders from all walks of life who decide that they have lived long enough in Hell.
Their goal is to enter vault 46 at any cost. There they can begin a new life, safe from Raiders, mutants, and all the other dangers of the wastes.

Vault 46 is just outside of Vancouver. There are no Super-mutants in the area and no BoS, but that means the Raiders have gone uncontested. they have grown to extreme numbers and war is constantly raging between their isolated factions over control of their turf. Due to vancouver's massive chinese population, it was not a target of any atomic bombs. This means there is little danger of radiation and a noticeable lack of feral ghouls. Just because the city wasn't nuked doesn't mean it is intact however, as the underlying racism from the american-chinese conflict coupled with the stress of a now inhospitable environment exploded into open warfare after the rest of the world was effectively destroyed and the city was levelled by its own citizens within months. It still rains all the time in the city, but nuclear armageddon has caused most of the rain to be highly radioactive, caustic, poisonous, or all of the above. occasionally a clean cloud will pass over the city and everybody will put aside their differences, throw down their weapons and collect all the clean water they can catch from the sky. these rains usually last less than 10 minutes, and when they stop, the cycle of death continues.

Local dangers include:
Massive mutated Grizzly bears (imagine a Yao Guai, only twice the size, and 3 times as pissed off)
Caustic rain
Mutant sea-lions (much of the city is flooded). They keep the mirelurks in check, and pose a significant risk if you plan on crossing many of the city's flooded portions
Mutant eagles roost in the ruins of the cities skyscraqers

Human dangers:
Thousands of Raiders and slavers
Landmines/booby traps galore

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you know the drill, Your character sheet should still look like this:

-Name: (simple, right?)
-six: (sometime people use unisix names and don't make their gender clear, even in their "appearance". this can lead to some awkward situations, lol)
-Age: (no everybody can not be 17, i don't want to walk around with a bunch of jailbait and little boys. MINIMUM AGE 18)
Race: (where are you from?)
-Profession: (wastelander, slaver, raider, regulator, merc, surgeon, medic, scientist, etc., i will even allow ONE brotherhood/enclave outcast (first come, first serve on that one))
-History: (be creative. if horror movies have taught us anything, it is that people with the best histories are more likely to survive until the end of the film)
-Equipment: (only things available in-game please, unless you can give me a kickass reason to let you keep it. also, hats are advised as rain is often deadly)
--Armour: (no, everybody DOESN'T wear power armour)
--weapons: (no Fat Man, missile launcher, or anything else heavy unless you PM me and ask. kickass reason still applies. NOTE: if you are carrying grenades, state how many)
-Appearance: (be realistic, the world has ended. nobody is over 6 feet after living in the wastes their whole life, no bathing means short hair to avoid lice, scars are common)

some diversity and realism is always nice when it comes to your characters, i am sick of being surrounded by numerous ridiculously attractive teenagers who also happen to be gang leaders and weapons experts.



I will be playing the role of the leader of the group, a mysterious character that has crossed the entire continent to this area for an as yet unknown reason.

-Name: Roland Tiernay
-six: M
-Age: 43
-Race: White
-Profession: Wastelander
-History: not much is known about him, other than the fact that he was born somewhere near the ruins of New York City. His father murdered his mother while the boy was still young and was subsequently hunted down and shot by a band of Regulators. How and why he has crossed the entire continent to the Vancouver Warzone is unknown
-Equipment: 2 stims, handkerchief (kept surprisingly clean), pocket lint, lighter.
- -armour: Leather armour, tinted reading glasses, Pre-war hat.
- -weapons: Scoped .44 magnum, Hunting Rifle, combat knife, 1 frag grenade.
-Appearance: 6 feet tall. muscular frame. Short greying hair and beard. cold grey eyes. sewn onto the chest of his armour is a fraying scrap of a vault jumpsuit, in golden thread upon it is the number 46.


----------------IF YOU SKIPPED PAST ALL THAT STUFF, AT LEAST READ THIS:----------------------------

go back and read it all [censored]. if you don't like reading a lot of stuff you are at the wrong website. (try LOLcats, you may enjoy it more)

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feel free to advance the plot yourself, don't rely on me to do all the work. don't kill anybody's char without permission. Have fun if you must.


EDIT: various spelling mistakes and i misused the word 'either'. feel free to ridicule my poor grammatical skills.

Roland surveyed the bar from his booth in the back and wondered who amongst these people had come to accept his offer; a life in paradise. he knew it sounded like a cult recruitment, but that would attract only the craziest and most fearless people around, and that was who Roland needed. He had crossed the distance from New york to here, a shanty town 5 miles from the canadian border, with a full party, but they had been dying steadily since they set off. the last one had been carried off by an EAGLE of all things! but Roland was prepared for some losses. he had plastered his entire path all the way from New York with posters and graffiti offering a life without the horrors of the wasteland. now he had only to wait and see who would accept...

Hey Do you mind if I be my robot dude? ive come to really like that persona, its alot like myself in a bunch of ways

of course i don't mind. we could use your help if we come across any robots along the way to the vault, and we will definately need your help if we are ever going to get inside.

Ok then here goes

Name: Mark Ovietski
six: Male
Age: 25
Race: Polish
Proffesion: Robotics Engineer/mechanic
History: He grew up in a local town doing whatever the town need him to do (for caps of course) he even programmed a robot to defend the town. The townspeople never really "liked" him but they tolerated his anti social behavior, that is till one day. Around when he was 20 a teenager punk "gangleader" destroyed his beloved robot, the one thing he truely liked, and he went into a frenzy and beat the poor teen to death with his wrench. After that the townspeople threw him out wiht nothing but his jumpsuit, a wrench and his glasses. Since then he wandered the wasteland scavuaging whatever he could find and enlisted robotic help till it broke whenever he found it. He would sell his scavvage for things like energy cells for his pistol or anything to keep the current robot who was with him he called "Crazy " after the gang leader he massacred. He never stayed in the settlements long because he always feared some one would do the same thing to his beloved Crazy, his one true freind.
Equipment:
-Misc: Some things to keep Crazy running (some spare conducters, a extra fission battery, a few focusing lenses, some spare cords, and some crap metal. All of this Crazy carries himself in his storage compartment.
-Amor: A homemade armored RobCo Jumpsuit (about as armored as Vault 101 jumsuit). A old enclave officer hat he found, some black Eyeglasses
-Weapons: Laser pistol, Laser rifle, Wrench he calls "The Fixer" and never leaves behind, He always has it on his belt no matter what.
Appearance: Some What shaggy hair but always unkempt (he doesn't give a damn about what he looks like nad anyone who does isn't worth his time). Peircing blue eyes and some scars on his hands from woring inside robots. He stands at 5'8 and weighs 170 pounds

Mark walked into the bar with Crazy trailing him, he looked to see if there was anyone who might want to buy some scavvage from a nearby raider hole. Over in one corner he saw a man standing in a booth with signs that read "life in paradise! Just ask." Crazy weirdo thought Mark, completly aware that he looked like one too. He decided it wouldn't hurt to talk so he walked over and said "weird signs you got there. You really think you'd find paradise out here?"

Roland flicked open the strap that held his .44 in its holster, preparing for any trouble that this youth may bring.

"No," Roland answered, "Not out here."
He appraised the dishevelled figure before him, noting the unsettling gleam in the young man's eyes, and the seeming perfect condition of his protectron(?) companion.
"But i do know where paradise can be found."
"We get ahead of ourselves;" he continued," My name is Roland Tiernay, i have spent the last 13 months travelling here from a place once known as New York City. What is your name, lad? tell me about yourself."



OOC: is it a protectron?

-Name: Marcus Johnson
-six: male
-Age: 22
Race: caucasian
-Profession: Merc
-History: lived in a junk settlement until it was overrun by raiders, his mom died in childbirth, the raiders killed everyone in the city, so he hates raiders, and wants to kill the leader of the raider gang that raided his city, he has been constantly searching for clues to find who killed his father, but doesn't know for sure if his dad was killed in the raiding. It has been 7 years since. he treasures the cap his father gave him the day before the raiders raided the town
-Equipment: 5 stimpaks, 25 bobby pins, some pure water bottles
--Armour: motorcycle helmet, leather armor, his baseball cap hat that his dad gave him
--weapons: .44 magnum(scoped), chinese assault rifle, combat knife
-Appearance: 185 pounds, 5'10, brown eyes and hair, deep scar on his right arm from a raider knifing him
-Pet: he has a pet dog, named rocky, who seems to be a german sheppard (if this isn't allowed then i won't have a dog)

OOC NOTE: if you are a raider/slaver already living in vancouver and you want to join us, post your own story until our paths intersect, then join us from there.

-Name: Weasel
-six: male
-Age: 20
Race: native brazzilian (I spell that right?)
-Profession: thief
-History: Weasel was born in brazil. His ethnic background is unknown. When he heard civilization was doing better in North America, he then came to the states.
-Equipment: A slightly armored, faded, dirty leather jacket, rough, patched jeans and a brown leather trucker cap.
--Armour: please look above
--weapons: a slilenced 10mm pilstol
-Appearance: short, light-brown hair, tall, about 5'10". He's got a slimp build, but not neccasarily weak

Weasel entered the bar, still fresh in Canada. He looked for the man who had set up these sign of 'paradise'. He saw Roland, sitting in a booth, with the signs he had seen earlier. He approached the man, "Paradise eh? I came here being told it would be paradise, so far, I'm not so sure. Perhaps my sources were reffering to this place you speak of?"

Roland surveyed the newcomer with something akin to contempt. he was even younger than the last one. His posture said he was well travelled, but Roland could not understand how the boy could survive in the wastes so poorly armed and with such flimsy protection.

"it may very well be, boy," Roland sneered, "but i won't be taking any young punks with me all they have to offer is a weak little pistol and torn rags for armour."

"you can't have been in the northwest for very long judging by your gear. the rain alone will burn through those pants."

"I'm a thief, a master thief. I've traveled for a year and have supplied myself off everyone else, and this gun," he looked at his holster, "this gun is only here for a ranged target, or any [censored] who thinks they can keep me away from their neck. In a fight, I will sneak in for a kill from behind, a snapped neck, a choked, suffocated man." He looked down at his pants and took a seat, "I've never seen any rain since I came to the states, odd, perhaps you can tell me more about this paradise and how we'll get it."

(keep in mind this jacket is an unzipped jacket, making him look a little more like a [censored])

"well after that last little speech, i don't know if i can trust you." Roland laughed, "but there are a few things we have to get out of the way before i can tell you that."
Roland got out of his seat and offered his hand to the thief before him.
"Roland Tiernay, and you are?"

-Name: David Bai
-six: Male
Age: 32
Race: Vancouver born Chinese
-Profession: Scaveenger
-History: After years of hardship, he's finally given up on society. His mother killed by racists who destroyed his families home and store. With no way to earn money, he and his father turned to hunting and scavenging. One day, David was ambushed by a mutant grizzly but his father sacrificed himself to save him. The teenage David escaped back to Vancouver and found a sympathetic doctor to help him. Now, he survives by killing wild game and only enters the city to sell food and random items he finds in the wastes for ammo and water. The white traders who don't spit in his face like to give him racist nick names that don't really flatter him.
-Equipment: Several random tools, silverware, blanket a combat knife, wasteland scavenger coat(not sure what its really called in game), storm chaser hat
--Armour: No real armor, just several layers of clothes
--weapons: Sniper rifle (if i can, i'd like it to just be a scoped hunting rifle instead of a military sniper)
-Appearance: 5'5 115 lbs. Shaved head. Face doesn't have scars but has has several right across his chest from the grizzly. He also has a somewhat awkward walk from breaking his leg in the attack.


"Paradise huh. At this point, theres a lot of things that could be better than this," Bai said to himself as he read the message painted on the wall. He set off into the city to find out more. Eventually he found the bar that the person offering freedom was supposed to be in and found him talking to someone else. "Pardon me. I hear you know some kind of paradise," he asked as politely as he could and hoping he would not receive the man's fist as an answer.

OOC: not something i would personally hope for lol

IC:

Roland turned to face the asian gentleman that had approached him, introducing himself and asking David to sit down, despite the indignation of the Thief he had previously been talking to.
"Are you here to join us, Mr. Bai?" Roland asked.

Roland soon grew tired of introducing himself over and over and decided to wait for a few more people to come and talk amongst themselves before making his address.

ooc: i meant NOT recieve. my bad ill edit that. i dont proofread. these games take enough of my patience sorry.

IC: "Well, I would be interested in joining if this you actually have a paradise for me besides heaven itself," he responded,"But please, finish your business with this gentleman." After that he, took a seat and waited with his rifle across his lap

ooc again: since i'm pretty sure the guy you were talking to before isn't here, but I just want my character to be polite. Being a minority, he doesn't want to make anyone more of a reason to hate him.

Roland tells the thief to go cool his jets for a while, and the kid does just that.

"oh i have a paradise for you, my friend." Roland said, "you must know about the vaults, right?"

"...specifically, vault 46?"

"A vault?" David replied is disbeleif," Well since you might be sincere, I'm interested. How do expect to get in to one? Those things are built to survive nuclear bombs."

OOC: the robot is a protectron and his name will be glitch (that better?) because when he found him he thought he was in something called "super duper mart"

IC: " You can't get in!" Mark said , speaking up for the first time. "I've seen those things and they were built to last. I've gotten into a couple but most of em were already trashed. I don't see how we could get into one that was 'paradise' still. But maybe...." Marks eyes gleamed dangerously but he did not speak his mind instead he turned to glitch and said " go get me some water, make sure it's atleast somewhat clean." Mark sat down in a chair by Roland and said "ok i'll bite, how the heck do you plan on getting into one thats still paradise.

OOC: if you guys can think of a better name for glitch please tell me, my imagination energy is phhhbbtt right now

(cool his jets?)

"Now before you explain how to get to it, tell me exactly what a vault is. Some kind of safe?" he asked the barkeep for a few drinks and sat down, waiting for an explanation. "Its Weasel by the way, what even my mother called me so don't expect more."

"Yeah whatever I dont care what your name is" Mark said "a vault is like a safe but for people, once the doors closed it's almost impossible to get them open from the outside." I've been inside them before but they were always trashed if not scavved from" Mark said, then he turned around to glitch and accepted his water. "Thanks" he said to the Shiny robot. "Anyways, if one still is operational theres no way in hell were getting inside."

Tom woke up with a start, shoving his pistol out in front of him, finding nothing there. He sighed in relief, and slid the gun back into the holster on his left thigh. After all, he was a lefty. He rubbed his hand over his face, and looked around slowly. He was staying under a slad of concrete overhanging Tom's makeshift home. His rifle sat on the side of him, and the mat he was propped up on sat dead center. He adjusted himself and looked out, up at the sky. Looked like it might start raining soon. He groaned softly and slipped on the fedora-style hat. He crawled back inside and grabbed his rifle, looping the strap around his arm. He slid out on his back, landing on his feet. He stayed low and crept over to his little lookout, peering out over the wasteland from the uprooted remains of a freeway. He grabbed some binoculars and looked through them. One side was broken, so he angled it up and put in on his left eye, closing his right. It was fairly empty, nothing really there. He dropped the binocs and rolled onto his back. He picked up his compass, and brought out a magnet. He set the compass down and threw the magnet at it. It struck it, and the wire went nuts, spinning oddly, briefly stopping at west before pointing back the right way. "West it is" he said to himself and prepared to leave. A paper flew along with the wind, turning widly until it hit Tom in the back of the head. He spun around, gun ready, pointing at nothing for the second time in a few minutes. He picked it up and looked at it. "Paradise..." Tom said aloud. He laughed a bit at it, but he was interested. It said to go to some bar, convieniently west. He smiled at the irony and headed out, ready to be dissapointed.

EDITED: Per tayroc's recomendations

OOC: to Polishgamer: your sheet is good, but you can't carry more than 1 rifle and 1 sidearm. if you have a rifle slung over both shoulders, you can't fire your pistol properly and you son't be able to make a quick escape. also, there is no R91, go with the "Chinese assault rifle"

IC:

"I will get into that vault!" Roland barked, "It is only a matter of who wants to come with me. If you are happy living out here feel free to [censored] off. but i have business in Vault 46 and nothing is going to keep me out."

"Who wants in?"

(OOC: Let's assume my char's 'home' is nearby the bar)

Tom pushed open the door, trying his best to remain aloof. He walked up and sat down on a bar stool. The bar tender made a glance at his rifle before asking "What can i get you stranger?" Tom thought for a minute and asked for some water. He looked around the bar as he waited, and noticed a group of people surrounding one man who was talking rather animatedly. The barkeep came back, holding a glass a water. "Here you go." Tom nodded at the man and headed over. He pulled out the flier and displayed it "I assume this is where i go to ask about paradise?" He looked around the group. They were fairly diverse, interesting to Tom, but only briefly. In fact, he was planning on what he was going to do when he found out this was a steaming pile of bull [censored]. He had learned to avoid hoping, because the end was usually depressing.

"Gentlemen," Roland continued, "I offer you a life without raiders, a life without Maulers, a life where you don't have to watch your step for landmines. I offer you clean water and a stable roof over your head. I offer you all this, and in return i ask only for your loyalty and your trust."

Roland took in the skeptical looks of those around him.

"I know what you are thinking, i too have been betrayed. but if you don't think you can trust me, you don't have to come. my offer is to those among you who have some faith left in humanity."

Roland sat down and took a drink of his beer.

"If you are with me, we can leave tomorrow."

Roland turned to Mark and muttered, "And think of all the technology they have in that vault."

"What? did you say something about raiders?" marcus said as he entered the door, "A raider gang.......they, they killed my.....killed my father, and my best friend, do you know anything about raiders? what are you talking about?"

Marcus took off his baseball cap and looked at it, as if he was about to cry, "I'll kill them all one day" he thought to himself.