Futuristic The brotherhood of steel

[Moldie]

So, I just wanted to see if there's any interest in a Fallout based brotherhood of steel RP. We'd play as a squad of BOS soldiers, just doing their thing in the apocalyptic wasteland of Fallout. Plot and such will be further developed if this garners any attention. Ad victoriam.
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[crumbelivable]

Sure, I'm in

 

[sausage]

What chapter would we be in and what year is it?

 

[Moldie]

What chapter would we be in and what year is it?

Havn't really decided, but somewhere around 2250

 

[sausage]

Sick. I'm in.

 

[Moldie]

Sick. I'm in.

Here's a character sheet, feel free to change it if needed.


Name:


Gender:


Sexuality:


Appearance:


Personality:


Morals:


Bio:


Equipment:


Other:

 

[Moldie]

Name: Bella Morandi


 

Gender: Female


 

Sexuality: Hetrosexual


 

Age: 25


 

Appearance: Bella has rugged middle length jet black hair and a dark umber eye color, almost black. Her skin is quite light, but she has very classic italian features. She’s not necessarily very tall, but rather fit with some defined muscle. She has three very defined claw mark scars running from her left cheekbone down to the middle of her neck. She’ll often be seen with oil stains on her face, hands and clothes.


 

View attachment 215975View attachment 215976


 

Personality: Some of her most defining traits are that she’s determined, hard working, independent and to some degree stubborn but she’ll always take it easy and slack a bit when she has the time. She has a sense of humor but her temper can get quite bad, she absolutely hates being wrong. She likes good bit of fun and a drink or ten every so often too. She doesn’t  act very positive or upbeat when it comes assignments, but rather let it show through her performance. This might now be a personality trait, but she has a very defined New York-ish accent.


 

Morals: She doesn’t necessarily hate the synths but she knows she has a duty to destroy them and she won’t hesitate. She truly despise the vile ghouls and mutants though, in her eyes they’re the absolutes lowest form of life.


 

She can most of the time kill humans if she has too, but she won’t like it and does understand the seriousness in it. Not children or old people through, she just can’t.


 

Bio: Bella grew up with her father, she does not know what exactly happened to her mother or who she was. She only knew that her father did not want to tell her. Her father worked with the triggermen and was an avid gambler, but he loved his one daughter very dearly. She remember the triggermen as very friendly towards her and her father, and her father’s criminal companions became like a replacement family to her.


 

She was probably too young to understand what happened at the time, but her father had some sort of fallout with the triggermen and they had to run. Fearing for his daughter's safety he sent her to her uncle, she was heartbroken to say the least. Her uncle was, interesting, to say the least. He owned a small repairment shop where people came to fix their guns, armor vehicles or whatever else mechanical things needed repairing. He was a bit of conspiracist and harbored an immense hate towards super mutants. Even though he was a bit strange, he took good care of her. She worked in his shop for a few years where she picked up a lot of knowledge on engineering and technology.


Around the time she was 16 years old she and her uncle traveled to a quite large settlement to look for some components needed for project they were working on. It all went smoothly until the sound of gunfire abruptly stopped their search. The settlement had come under attack by savage mutants, super mutants at that. The scene was quite brutal. Terrified she and her uncle hid. It seemed it would end there, but they were lucky. The thumping of mechanical footsteps and propellers indicated only one thing, the Brotherhood of steel. They successfully fended off the super mutants, and it was the single most inspiring moment of Bella’s life. Seeing the massive armored paladins valiantly troop the city, helping the wounded. They both made it out safely, without the components.


 

A couple of years later she requested to join the Brotherhood, her uncle feared for her safety but he felt it was a decent occupation and let her. Since she virtually had no combat skills she was only allowed to join due to her skills as a mechanic, and became assigned as a combat engineer. A few years went by and she found herself in the position of a knight, with enough combat experience to be able to protect herself and a far much deeper knowledge in engineering and tech. (Sorry if it's stale, cliche or whatever. I just kinda let myself go and wrote what came to mind )


 

Equipment: She has a few tools on her at all times, such as a heavy wrench (Can be used as a weapon), a blow torch and a combat knife. As for armor she wears the basic orange BoS uniform with the standard BoS armor on top.


 

As for weapons other than her tools, she carries a 45. Revolver. Other things might include, cigarettes, a flip lighter and extra ammo.


Skills: Engineering, repairing, cooking, WIP...

 

[sausage]

So I take it we're the East Coast chapter? I don't mean to be nitpicky, but the Brotherhood wasn't in the Commonwealth and had no interactions with synths in the 50's.

 

[Moldie]

So I take it we're the East Coast chapter? I don't mean to be nitpicky, but the Brotherhood wasn't in the Commonwealth and had no interactions with synths in the 50's.

Well, do you want to change it to post 2277 then? 2300?

 

[sausage]

I'd like that, unless you were going for some kind of alternate timeline thing.

 

[Moldie]

I'd like that, unless you were going for some kind of alternate timeline thing.

Then let's go for 2300ish.

 

[crumbelivable]

Ok, I'll post a cs once I'm done with my current one

 

[Moldie]

Any progress?

 

[sausage]

Working on a second draft right now.

 

[sausage]

Name: Mortimer Flemming


Age: 34


Gender: Male


Sexuality: Heterosexual


Appearance: Stocky and short, standing at 5'5 and weighing around 250 pounds of primarily lean muscle, Mortimer nevertheless has the intimidating and ragged appearance of a man who should've died young. The hair on his head nonexistent, having fallen away entirely over time. Prominent wrinkles mark his forehead and his eyes are sunken and often bloodshot; an angry scowl is his face's resting position. His left forearm is dotted with several track marks and collapsed veins, and the fingers at its end are prone to uncontrollable minor twitching. The skin on his feet and ankles are covered in burn scars, his palms and fingers are yellow from intense callousing. Overall, his visage is beefy, pale and ugly as sin.





Personality: Aggressive, hot-tempered, bitter and erratic, Mortimer holds resentment for the general leadership over the reintegration of the Outcasts into the Eastern Chapter, viewing the Eastern Chapter as dangerous fools and his former outcast comrades as cowardly and weak. That combined with two decades of experience on the front lines of Super Mutant-Brotherhood conflicts has left him with a general sense of disillusionment regarding authority figures and a shattering of the romanticized view of the Brotherhood he had when he was born into the outcasts so long ago. He is very protective of his secret Psycho addiction.


Morals: Any form of mutant, be them Super Mutants, Ghouls, or even the genetically impure natives of the wasteland are lesser beings to him, to be either subjugated or eradicated outright. He follows the old codexes with almost fanatical zeal, and is keen to divert himself from the course of his assignments to liberate technology from the hands of primitive natives. Harbors a love for synths and despises his fellow Brotherhood members for turning their backs on such impressive and useful pieces of tech.


Bio: Born into the Brotherhood outcasts, Mortimer was raised on a steady ideological diet of suspicion, elitism and prejudice. From the day he could talk his parents were grooming him to the life of a scribe, the same position both of them held and idolized; for years, a majority of his spare time was spent with his nose buried in books and archives, primarily split between those concerning aeronautics and theoretical physics and those concerning warfare and the proud history of the Brotherhood of old. From this a passion for both mankind's ascendance into the stars and the art of war were formed, permeating the annals of his dreams and desires in equal part. However, when in his teen years he was forced to commit, the call of battle was a much stronger and more realistic beacon than that of space shuttles and extraterrestrial colonization.


In the Brotherhood's military division, Mortimer was faced with the cold reality that the world was far too cynical and uncaring for him to be granted the chance to become the great general he had so often fantasized about, stuck in grunt work for years before even being entertained with the prospect of leading a unit. When the opportunity finally came along, and the opportunity to lead a squad during a minor assault on a mutie camp, the year was 2283 and their structure was reintegrated into the Eastern Chapter, cancelling all previous assignments and resetting every former Outcast Knight's position and prestige to no more than an apprentice fresh out of training. From here, he would be reassigned away from his family and most of his battle-brothers to the Capital Wasteland to tangle with Mutants on a grander scale than ever before.


The thrill of true battle was one he cherished. Suppressed by constant explosions and gunfire, battle in the trenches and foxholes was a far cry from the quick skirmishes he had been accustomed to. The warmth of an overheating laser rifle in his hands, the thick smell of burning tires and plasma burners, the excitement of getting the order to charge en masse, it was all so fresh and positively exhilarating. However, as the conflict dragged on and slowly began to wane in intensity, the fight became mundane, and the chance to prove himself as a leader had still yet to be afforded to him. He was further aggravated by the fact that his battle-brothers and superiors were all fools and cowards, unpatriotic things who spit on the Brotherhood's true purpose, some even hailing from outside the order or descended from outsiders. They viewed the old ways with contempt and dismissive abandon, and he wished to escape back to the fantasy of rocketry.


Years dragged on and conflicts gradually dulled to the point where cutbacks on front line soldiers were made. His role was turned into one of reconnaissance, dragging him out of brotherhood hands for weeks and even months at a time. Coping with the miserable state of the order was hard, as was having to deal with the fact that there was likely nothing he could ever do about it, and so out of both boredom and despair he ended up captivated by the various chems so often abused by the primitives of the wasteland, attracted especially by the pre-war combat stim Psycho. Perhaps it was the ability to relive the thrill of the fight from all the way out in sheet metal shacks and pre-war ruins that drew him to it, maybe it was the ability to feel the same passion he did when he was younger. The reasons didn't matter, as his habit turned into addiction rather quickly.


Equipment: T45d power armor, laser rifle, power fist, homebrewn Psycho.


Other: A berserker warrior, prefers to charge the enemy to rip them apart with his hands over ranged engagement.

 

[sausage]

Thoughts? Too edgy? Not edgy enough? Missed inconsistencies?

 

[Moldie]

Looking really good!