Doctor Calgori
Minister of Science, Shhh.....
Name: John Doe
Age: 54
Gender: Male (100%)
Posting Colour: Working on it
Theme Song: Still looking for one
Concept: A violent caricature of humanity's darker side, lured out by war and loathe to leave without a fight
Appearance: Fierce. Savage. Something you'd only see on a cattle ranch, or in the jungles of Earth. Well, assuming Earth even has jungles anymore. Doe's face is a mess of battle scars and eternal stubble, crowned with a buzz cut so sharp it can slice through metal. His eyes are eternally angry, and his brow will probably never unfurl itself. On his own Doe is at least 6 feet tall, with knotted muscle and huge fists to twice compound his mean look.
Birthplace: AMERICA
Character Skills: (Advantageous Skills not related to your powers)
Character Flaws: (Things your character is unskilled in, things that are ether their weaknesses or limitations.) You need to have 3 minimum flaws but you can have more if you want.
Psionics or Cybernetics:
Doe is highly augmented with technology that might have been cutting edge 20 years ago.
Head:A limited head-up display lets Doe see his way around with a blast shield down; powerful lights and a thermal camera let him navigate his way through dark service tunnels and in mine shafts.
Body: A thick layer of metal and plastic covers everything but Doe's head giving him good resistance to all sorts of damage. His chest holds an ancient mining computer. While nowhere near as good as modern machines, and certainly unable to connect to modern data links, let alone hack, the computer is a solid thing that can take a beating.
Back: Doe's back holds the life-blood of his machine: a venerable old generator, which powers most of his augments. The machine must be fueled every day, or else Doe is crippled. It takes some time for the generator to come up to full speed: Doe's performance suffers until it has done so. A simple filtration system gives Doe half an hour's worth of oxygen, and a day's worth of scrubbed air.
Arm: Doe's arms are sturdy metal frames, featuring massive pistons for both heavy lifting and powerful punching. His left arm ends in a series of stout metal fingers, and his right, a huge stub with a locking clamp, which attaches to a variety of exciting industrial devices: chain saws, pneumatic hammers, illegally modified machine guns. Unfortunately, this means he can't use anything designed for human fingers.
Leg: Similar to his arms, Doe's legs are huge, stomping things, which make it nearly impossible to both knock him down, and run at any speed at all.
Profession: Previously a machine gunner for an Earth army long gone, now contracting as a grunt worker/security guard.
Personal Goals: Keep the green hills of home safe from aliens, and one day, return to said green hills to live life in peace.
Fears: Getting screwed. Aliens taking Earth over. Aliens in general.Communism.
Optimism vs. Pessimism: Pessimism
Introvert vs. Extrovert: Introvert. Doe's had enough of society these days, and more often then not just wants to drink and stare at the stars.
Justice vs. Mercy: Justice for anything that isn't an Earth human. Does goes out of his way to merciful to any people who make terra firma their home.
Feelings on the Union:Doe's love for the Union surpasses even his hate for aliens and his need for strong drinks. The man believes it to be a sort of modern-America: manifest destiny taken to a new extreme, the American empire taking to the stars. And why shouldn't it? It's freedom and liberty to everybody. As far as Doe's concerned, anybody who isn't in the Union, or opposes it, can stuff it. It being the barrel of his machine gun, and stuffing it meaning taking a few dozen bullets.
Common Mannerisms: Plays his harmonica whenver he gets a moment. Will go out of his way to tear down or paint over any anti-Union scribblings, even on the porta-potty walls.
Interests & Hobbies: Drinking, BBQ, harmonica.
Overall Personality: John Doe is proud to be an American...Unionian, and he'll be damned if anybody is getting in his way. Loud, harsh, and often cruel, he cares little for the affairs of other people – because, hell, what are they doing to stop the alien menace? Complaining that the 'Union' isn't washing their socks for them? Doe is quick to anger and hardly backs down from a fight, always ready to defend freedom, anybody from the Union, and especially his fellow veterans, industrial workers, and criminals. Lately, however, his age has been showing, and the once-mighty warrior is beginning to wisen up. Nights he would have spent punching iron bars to dented smitheroons he now spends staring up at the sky, wondering why he is where he is, and what the future holds.
History: For most of his early life, Doe was just an average Doe. He grew up in the then still existing States, spending his days riding pickup trucks, hunting with the good ol' boys, and quietly preparing for the inevitable invasion of the US's enemies. His family had always been shaky, and after a particularly violent incident of domestic voilence, Doe's father became his ROTC commander, who inspired to the kid to make the military his permanent home. As soon as he hit the age of freedom, Doe signed into the U.S. Army, tearing his way through basic with the ferocity of a small bear, and quickly landing a spot in some of the more rough-and-dirty platoons. He blazed through the ranks, both up and down: one promotion for honorable conduct in combat was soon replaced with a demotion for some violation of the G-kneeva convention, and so on. Doe didn't care: as long as America was safe, he'd do whatever the Army told him to do.
The aliens attacked, and Doe (Who had been sent to guard some missile site after burning down one village too many) finally got to put his savage fury to the test. He survived the initial Alien attack, and more, leading a ragtag group of machine gunners into battle after battle, until a vicious counterstrike took away most of Doe's limbs. They couldn't take his resolve, however, and the one-armed man managed to hold a machine gun for a few more minutes before he passed out.
Doe's ticket to the pearly gates was taken away by white walls, bright lights, and men in lab coats. No matter how much he roared at them, they refused to talk, and Doe soon found out why. Turns out, blasting aliens to bits and vicious attacks with nothing but knives on the end of sticks got you the interest of 'Special Forces.' They had 'collected' a Mister John Doe for use in some sort of secret project, the end result being Doe's gradual transformation into a human bulldozer. Doe didn't get a lick of it, but he was alive, well, and hell, had some incredible power in his now-metal fingertips.
The higher-ups never bothered to tell Doe that he was a failure – as powerful as he was, it was much easier to use electronic motors than hydraulic pistons, and the technology was dated beyond belief – but Doe himself was far more of a success. Charging into battle with his machine gun right arm, blaring patriotic music from built-in speakers, Doe soon added his name to the list of battlefield heroes who would forever go down in military history as the guys who just wouldn't quit.
Somewhere along the line, the aliens left, but that wasn't enough for Doe. He'd only just begun to fully synch with his new body, and his old rage was still there – Earth under attack, freedom threatened, and a shiny machine gun in his right arm. They deployed his platoon with many others off-world, to where the Union was still threatened. More than one Mars colonist saw the front end of Doe's cannons, and his platoon left a burning trail of fire wherever they went.
Command got hold of what they were doing, and frankly, they didn't like it. Not one bit. Flown back home under military guard, Doe faced life inprisonment at the hands of a civilian court: his military superiors had turned face, and the 'Special Forces' were already moved on to their next augmentation program. Long nights in a prison cell, starved of food and fuel, and alone, Doe was forced to come to terms with who he had become. His verdict finally arrived, and Doe prepared for death by living with a solemn heart, his fiery rage finally quelled.
Doe's ticket to the gates of hell were again interrupted by bright lights and men in coats, but this time, it was Black Tower, an appropriately named private security firm, who saw a great deal of gain in buying up a savage fighter with nothing to lose. With nothing else but a jail cell to his name, Doe grudgingly agreed, and so entered into the latest chapter of his life. Black Tower saw fit to place their latest asset aboard a significant investment of theirs – an orbital platform far above Earth's blue skies. Doe now spends his time patrolling the deep underbelly of the station, doing repair work and secretly hoping the aliens will invade again, so he can have a meaning once more.
Age: 54
Gender: Male (100%)
Posting Colour: Working on it
Theme Song: Still looking for one
Concept: A violent caricature of humanity's darker side, lured out by war and loathe to leave without a fight
Appearance: Fierce. Savage. Something you'd only see on a cattle ranch, or in the jungles of Earth. Well, assuming Earth even has jungles anymore. Doe's face is a mess of battle scars and eternal stubble, crowned with a buzz cut so sharp it can slice through metal. His eyes are eternally angry, and his brow will probably never unfurl itself. On his own Doe is at least 6 feet tall, with knotted muscle and huge fists to twice compound his mean look.
Birthplace: AMERICA
Character Skills: (Advantageous Skills not related to your powers)
- Major Skill 1: You don't know, you weren't there – Doe doesn't remember a time when he didn't have some kind of metal thing grafted to his skin. If it wasn't a jackhammer, it was a machine gun. He may have not been the best shot, but he could keep his cool in the jungle, and better yet, could punch through trees and skulls alike.
- Minor Skill1: Demolitions – With a body more like a bulldozer than a human, Doe feels most comfortable on the workplace: cutting steel, welding joists, blasting rock, casting thermoplastics. Nail guns feel comfortably close to machine guns, after all.
- Minor Skill 2: Juggernaut – Doe's massive will is something lesser mortals only know in their wildest dreams. Raging storms, freezing ice, burning fire, crippling pain – nothing can stop the Doe, nothing except a good beer at the bar.
- Minor Skill 3: Cookie – Despite being perfectly content to live off of pork and beans, Doe is quite handy around spices, and whips up a mean omelet. His specialty is "Mining Laser BBQ"
Character Flaws: (Things your character is unskilled in, things that are ether their weaknesses or limitations.) You need to have 3 minimum flaws but you can have more if you want.
- Disadvantage 1: Augmentations – I'll go over that when I get there jeez wow oh okay fine i see how it is wow okay really
- Disadvantage 2: One of those guys – Doe gets a lot of flak from the general public for being a veteran, and even worse, he can't punch them or else he'll go to prison again. Doe suffers a significant disadvantage interacting with civilian and particularly government populations
- Disadvantage 3: Size matters – Doe cannot fit into most things, including vehicles, furniture, rooms, portapotties. No entry for any small space (less than 6 feet high), and in other places, Doe's at a significant disadvantage.
- Disadvantage 4: Hello – Doe is a registered criminal, and unlike high-tech assassins, has no hacking ability or invisible shields to protect himself. Doe suffers heavily when trying to do any covert sneaking work, or otherwise undermine his superiors – which generally means, anybody with any sort of importance to the government or his contractor.
- Disadvantage 5: Good ol' Boy: Doe isn't very good with fancy talk. Doe suffers a great deal when trying to do any sort of academia that isn't quick math on a construction site, or maybe remembering how to spell his name on a paycheck
Psionics or Cybernetics:
Doe is highly augmented with technology that might have been cutting edge 20 years ago.
Head:A limited head-up display lets Doe see his way around with a blast shield down; powerful lights and a thermal camera let him navigate his way through dark service tunnels and in mine shafts.
Body: A thick layer of metal and plastic covers everything but Doe's head giving him good resistance to all sorts of damage. His chest holds an ancient mining computer. While nowhere near as good as modern machines, and certainly unable to connect to modern data links, let alone hack, the computer is a solid thing that can take a beating.
Back: Doe's back holds the life-blood of his machine: a venerable old generator, which powers most of his augments. The machine must be fueled every day, or else Doe is crippled. It takes some time for the generator to come up to full speed: Doe's performance suffers until it has done so. A simple filtration system gives Doe half an hour's worth of oxygen, and a day's worth of scrubbed air.
Arm: Doe's arms are sturdy metal frames, featuring massive pistons for both heavy lifting and powerful punching. His left arm ends in a series of stout metal fingers, and his right, a huge stub with a locking clamp, which attaches to a variety of exciting industrial devices: chain saws, pneumatic hammers, illegally modified machine guns. Unfortunately, this means he can't use anything designed for human fingers.
Leg: Similar to his arms, Doe's legs are huge, stomping things, which make it nearly impossible to both knock him down, and run at any speed at all.
Profession: Previously a machine gunner for an Earth army long gone, now contracting as a grunt worker/security guard.
Personal Goals: Keep the green hills of home safe from aliens, and one day, return to said green hills to live life in peace.
Fears: Getting screwed. Aliens taking Earth over. Aliens in general.Communism.
Optimism vs. Pessimism: Pessimism
Introvert vs. Extrovert: Introvert. Doe's had enough of society these days, and more often then not just wants to drink and stare at the stars.
Justice vs. Mercy: Justice for anything that isn't an Earth human. Does goes out of his way to merciful to any people who make terra firma their home.
Feelings on the Union:Doe's love for the Union surpasses even his hate for aliens and his need for strong drinks. The man believes it to be a sort of modern-America: manifest destiny taken to a new extreme, the American empire taking to the stars. And why shouldn't it? It's freedom and liberty to everybody. As far as Doe's concerned, anybody who isn't in the Union, or opposes it, can stuff it. It being the barrel of his machine gun, and stuffing it meaning taking a few dozen bullets.
Common Mannerisms: Plays his harmonica whenver he gets a moment. Will go out of his way to tear down or paint over any anti-Union scribblings, even on the porta-potty walls.
Interests & Hobbies: Drinking, BBQ, harmonica.
Overall Personality: John Doe is proud to be an American...Unionian, and he'll be damned if anybody is getting in his way. Loud, harsh, and often cruel, he cares little for the affairs of other people – because, hell, what are they doing to stop the alien menace? Complaining that the 'Union' isn't washing their socks for them? Doe is quick to anger and hardly backs down from a fight, always ready to defend freedom, anybody from the Union, and especially his fellow veterans, industrial workers, and criminals. Lately, however, his age has been showing, and the once-mighty warrior is beginning to wisen up. Nights he would have spent punching iron bars to dented smitheroons he now spends staring up at the sky, wondering why he is where he is, and what the future holds.
History: For most of his early life, Doe was just an average Doe. He grew up in the then still existing States, spending his days riding pickup trucks, hunting with the good ol' boys, and quietly preparing for the inevitable invasion of the US's enemies. His family had always been shaky, and after a particularly violent incident of domestic voilence, Doe's father became his ROTC commander, who inspired to the kid to make the military his permanent home. As soon as he hit the age of freedom, Doe signed into the U.S. Army, tearing his way through basic with the ferocity of a small bear, and quickly landing a spot in some of the more rough-and-dirty platoons. He blazed through the ranks, both up and down: one promotion for honorable conduct in combat was soon replaced with a demotion for some violation of the G-kneeva convention, and so on. Doe didn't care: as long as America was safe, he'd do whatever the Army told him to do.
The aliens attacked, and Doe (Who had been sent to guard some missile site after burning down one village too many) finally got to put his savage fury to the test. He survived the initial Alien attack, and more, leading a ragtag group of machine gunners into battle after battle, until a vicious counterstrike took away most of Doe's limbs. They couldn't take his resolve, however, and the one-armed man managed to hold a machine gun for a few more minutes before he passed out.
Doe's ticket to the pearly gates was taken away by white walls, bright lights, and men in lab coats. No matter how much he roared at them, they refused to talk, and Doe soon found out why. Turns out, blasting aliens to bits and vicious attacks with nothing but knives on the end of sticks got you the interest of 'Special Forces.' They had 'collected' a Mister John Doe for use in some sort of secret project, the end result being Doe's gradual transformation into a human bulldozer. Doe didn't get a lick of it, but he was alive, well, and hell, had some incredible power in his now-metal fingertips.
The higher-ups never bothered to tell Doe that he was a failure – as powerful as he was, it was much easier to use electronic motors than hydraulic pistons, and the technology was dated beyond belief – but Doe himself was far more of a success. Charging into battle with his machine gun right arm, blaring patriotic music from built-in speakers, Doe soon added his name to the list of battlefield heroes who would forever go down in military history as the guys who just wouldn't quit.
Somewhere along the line, the aliens left, but that wasn't enough for Doe. He'd only just begun to fully synch with his new body, and his old rage was still there – Earth under attack, freedom threatened, and a shiny machine gun in his right arm. They deployed his platoon with many others off-world, to where the Union was still threatened. More than one Mars colonist saw the front end of Doe's cannons, and his platoon left a burning trail of fire wherever they went.
Command got hold of what they were doing, and frankly, they didn't like it. Not one bit. Flown back home under military guard, Doe faced life inprisonment at the hands of a civilian court: his military superiors had turned face, and the 'Special Forces' were already moved on to their next augmentation program. Long nights in a prison cell, starved of food and fuel, and alone, Doe was forced to come to terms with who he had become. His verdict finally arrived, and Doe prepared for death by living with a solemn heart, his fiery rage finally quelled.
Doe's ticket to the gates of hell were again interrupted by bright lights and men in coats, but this time, it was Black Tower, an appropriately named private security firm, who saw a great deal of gain in buying up a savage fighter with nothing to lose. With nothing else but a jail cell to his name, Doe grudgingly agreed, and so entered into the latest chapter of his life. Black Tower saw fit to place their latest asset aboard a significant investment of theirs – an orbital platform far above Earth's blue skies. Doe now spends his time patrolling the deep underbelly of the station, doing repair work and secretly hoping the aliens will invade again, so he can have a meaning once more.
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