» Tue Nov 23, 2010 8:51 pm Not everyone was blessed enough to be accepted into a Vault. With no other place to go, hundreds -- maybe thousands -- of people fled into D.C.'s only free underground fallout shelter. The subway tunnels under the entire city. Of course at the time, no one knew what threats would dig their way into the ground, and try to end Mankind's last remaining, peaceful, race.
With the nuclear devastation only being so little passed, the topside land is burned with radiation. There are no small pockets of radiation -- no matter where you step, you're slowly dying. Within 5 minutes, you're heart will stop pumping blood if you breath the poison air. Even if you're pulled to safety, the chances of survival are so miniscule, rescue becomes pointless.
Never leave the tunnels. Never go topside. Never leave your station.
And never, under no circumstances, should you fight Them.
*READ MY CHARACTER BIO AT THE BOTTOM FOR MORE INFORMATION*
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Weapons: Any Pre-War Weapons you can think of are acceptable. No "heavy weapons". They'll be introduced when needed.
Post-War weapons are much weaker than Pre-War, all though they are more advanced. Pump weapons fire like BB Guns, but still kick like Hell. They're normally old broken Pre-War guns modified with a pressure gauge that determines the strength, accuracy, and distance of the shot.
Laser weapons are the rarest underground. There are no plasma weapons that are open to the "Public". Plasma weapons are strictly "Military", and civilians will have them confiscated.
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Sign-Up Sheets:
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Race:
Weapons (One Primary, One secondary, Everyone is fitted with a bowie knife.):
Equipment and Appearance (Gas Masks and Radiation Suits provided.):
Bio (Must be a decent enough length. No unfolding through the RP. May also be a brief story):
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Name: William Jeffery
Age: 23 Years
Gender: M
Race: White/Caucasian
Weapons:
-Pre-War Revolver with Stock/Optics/Silencer/Extended Barrel.
-Post-War Pump Revolver.
Equipment and Appearance:
-http://www.valhallaarmory.com/v/vspfiles/photos/37CL01-2T.jpg with three pouches for ammo and misc. items on the ground. Two pouches hanging down both sides for more ammo and bowie knife.
-http://www.proki.org/images/ultratwin2.jpg
-Black Cargo Pants w/ kevlar knee pads/side protection.
-Black rubber soled boots
Bio: I was just a newborn when my family fled underground. We weren't the only family staying the station at the time of the Great War, and when everyone figured out it wasn't safe to leave, our station turned into a civilization. We weren't the first ones to do this, however. All across the connected Stations of D.C., new towns started to emerge. Each with their own people, and ideology. All though no Stations were truly at peace with others, trade routes were what kept the Subway strong. Special guns were made in each Station, and were traded for goods all across the underground.
Food was scarce, sure, but there was just enough to keep everyone alive still. We bred and raised animals, and butchered them for gain. Some crops grew if we were lucky, and the artificial sun lamps didn't die out. Mankind was in the dark ages, but we all managed fantastic. Until They came. Mutants from above ground, The Unfortunate Ones. There were many kinds of them, all generally the same shape and size. Each one had different abilities, and effects on Humans.
I grew up under the rule of my father, who was one of the founders of the station. He taught my how to sight, in case one the Unfortunate Ones came. I was mostly a farmer and a butcher, however. Until one day, when They came. My dad was killed, along with almost half of the station's population. Many of the founders died that unfortunate day. By that time, I was fully grown, and full of stupid immaturity that made me want revenge and justice.
The attacks grew longer, and more violent. And the Founders of the station wanted something to be done.
