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Post by Unter on Jan 28, 2018 0:42:03 GMT -8
Eirik smiled, and suddenly his german accent took over.
"Ah ! A marvelous job indeed. People like you makes pretty good friends. How about I buy you something to drink ? You'll show me the good stuff."
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Post by Outisakanobody on Jan 30, 2018 17:00:38 GMT -8
"Well don't call me a good friend yet. But I will take the drink." Sean says with a chuckle. "I'd be crazy to turn that down."
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Post by relentless on Apr 30, 2018 15:03:50 GMT -8
*Name: Shaun Tundel *Age: 29 *Gender: Male *Class: Beastmaster Skills:(Great Welding, Decent knitting, Bad cooking, etc. etc.) Great Welder, awful cook, good coder, good runner, bad fighter, great at rugby. Ethnicity: Irish Accent: A light form of German, with Scottish undertones. Height: 5'9 Weight: 195 pounds Cybernetics: ( SteelGauntlet -Simple design) He brandishes a steel forearm and hand on his left side, the design is lightweight and shaped much like that of a werewolfs claw than anything else, though the inner workings are still visible as he moves it around. A mixture of flesh and steel, his augment is capable of rending foes at close range with its beast esque claws, not to mention reducing recoil. The downside is that theres a chance it can malfunction, making his hand spasm as if he were having a seizure, and thus disabling him until he can get it fixed. Although it remains as a perfect binding of muscle and metal, the metal wins due to some programming going into it so it can extend the cord when needed. An additional augment also runs through the metal gauntlet and through his entire left arm, a bundle of specialized cable with a clamp on the end. Not intended for combat, it's main function is to directly hook up Shauns mental state with his mech, giving it a significant AI boost, making the robot seemingly 'superhuman'. The downside is that Shaun is paralyzed during this stage, unable to respond to anything until the cord is retracted, re-enabling Shaun whilst returning the Mech to its normal functioning level. If the cord reaches its maximum length, which extends to about 30 meters or so, the line will stop. However if the mech were to push on further, Shaun would suffer internal bleeding in his left arm which could kill him. In case of such an event, an emergency detach button has been placed on the top of his palm for someone to press whilst he's paralysed, if they wish to. (Shauns internal networking - simple design)
Lining the top of Shauns skull and throat, various juttings of wire can be seen poking the skin up, though on his head of hair it remains obscure. Beneath, computer chips of high grade are implanted on his spine and skull, providing network access to his brain. This allows Shaun to connect to his Mech, whilst also allowing him to gather information from the internet at anytime. (Shaun's Mech 'Bestigor Ryan' - simple design)Shaun's Mech stands at a height of 6'0, and was entirely built by Shaun. His pride and joy that he worked on throughout his college years. This mech was designed entirely off a fantasy based figure from the tabletop game known as 'Battlehammer', depicting a Beastmen warlord from his early days of going to his mates house and playing some tabletop. Anyway, the robot at this moment in time remains at a 'primitive self awareness' level of mind. His machine can roam freely, running on one single Uranium cell encased within the beastmens chest. His mech tends to resort to primitive and rather brutal sense of fighting, seemingly programmed by Shaun himself to enact such brutal carnage, fighting with steel tooth, claw and horn to rend his challengers to nothing but mush. At the moment, the robot is made out of steel through and through, with additional plating on his chest to protect the mechs heart. At any sign of internal breaching, the mech will shutdown immediately, disabling any form of power and making the Mech a corpse of metal. Items: A sawed off shotgun, with 36 12 gauge slugs stashed in Shauns cargopants. Toolbag (Containing pouches of screws, wiring, other tools and additional Uranium batteries for emergency use, encased in lead. *Appearance: (Shaun) Shaun appears as an average sized man with a bit of bulk to him from consuming fast food on the go from when he studied at Oxford, his hair colour is a dark brown with messy pushed back hair along with a rough beard that remains patchy in some areas. His eye colour can be seen as a cheerful blue, his ears appear slanted and small, whilst nose remains convex, flat and short. His face shape has a somewhat pudgy expression to it, though there's no sign of any severe fat growing on the underside of his neck or cheeks, appearing quite well kept despite what he ate back then. Shaun tends to wear lazy forms of clothes, though his form of armour appears to be hard cloth padding coupled with strips of metal lining the interior of his hoodie. However his tracky pants, shoes and other form of attire aren't protected at all. For the most part, his chestwear seems to be some form of promotional material nearly all the time, whether its a new games console or an old school game, Shaun always seems to have the merch on time. (Shaun's Mech 'Ryan the Irongor') A steel robot based off a fantasy creature known as a Bestigor, affiliated with a faction known as the 'Beastmen' in a low trend tabletop game series known as 'Battlehammers'. The creature appears fearsome, and entirely mechanical with parts working seemlessly with each other as it moves, almost as fluent as a human though with some distinction being able to be made with its occasional pauses. The horns themselves are fairly shaped and sized, resembling an adult Rams horns though with more emphasis on its size and curly arches than anything else. Its beastly face is elongated, resembling a malformed goat of more intimidating proportions, coupled with sophisticated LED eyes that glow a vibrant orange, a goats pupil placed upon the glassy orbs. Its teeth are short but viciously sharp, with metallic pumps underneath which produce tremendous jaw strength as a result. Irongor's arms and legs are long and would be considered muscular if it had flesh, instead the mech held a good bit of metallic bulk to its arms and legs in comparison to its creator. Its hands, or claws in this case appear similar to Shauns augmented left hand, a vicious set of claws that rend with much greater efficiency than Shaun would ever be able to, and with much more brutality than a human could stomach. The Irongors feet are like hoofs, hardy and large, it has an incredible foothold at any place or time. Reference Images: (shaun)  *Biography: Shaun was born in Germany and raised by his single father, Licarius Tundel, a wealthy business man who inherited a noble will from his grandfather when Shaun was two years of age. Shaun was homeschooled at first, avoiding Primary and Secondary school before he got a ferry to England at the age of 19 to study at Oxford for mechanical engineering and robotics. Shauns love was always in computer games and general techie topics, not to mention tabletop games he would play with German cousins from time to time. Eventually, after a few years at his University, Shaun had a heart attack and recovered quickly thanks to the Universitys support. This was caused due to excessive indulgence in many fast foods such as 'ChickenWizer' and 'Kebab4life!', renowned to be quite greasy (but delicious). Noticing the carelessness of this errors, Shaun decided to become more focused in a pet project of his after dancing with death at the ball. Another couple years had passed, and his pet project was a success! The Irongors was manufactured, and would've won him the Nobel Price for such level of ingenuinity! If the Irongor programming didn't get out of hand... A couple months before he would be awarded, the Irongor was rumoured to have gained self awareness overnight after a Janitor pissed into the robots mouth for 'shits and giggles'. The scene was graphic, and very brutal, bits of the Janitor were scattered and his face was one of fear and torment, with the robot stood in the middle of the blood covered room with head gripped tight in its hands. This led to Shaun being under extreme scrutiny from the public, and was investigated by the police on multiple accounts. They accused him of building a war machine to cause mayhem and destruction, and despite his claims that it was simply a toy, the Police were more than ready to put him in cuffs. That was before however, Licarius Tundel made one last ditch effort to save his son as he aged to the fine age of 76. To fulfill a long lasting oath that had never been achieved, last sought out by Libourg Tundel, anointed knight that disappeared. With the Darkest Dungeon being made known after Hiroishmina, Licarius signed a contract, signing his son away to serve under the mysterious benefactor that owned the Crawler instead of being prosecuted. Though would this sentence be worth avoiding prison? Only time would tell... |
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Post by relentless on May 2, 2018 5:48:28 GMT -8
=Center of Crawler=
/Shaun and Ryan/
The deep elevator churned up from the lower levels of the crawler, moving its way up to the surface. The grating of metal, and the cackling of chain rang out as the ramshackle elevator made its ascent. Eventually, the Deep Elevator would arrive at the surface floor of the Crawler, a pause coming about it as automated clamps secured it in place, silence falling over the surrounding area of the elevator. A sudden blare of dim yellow light shot through a crack as the elevator doors groaned open at a slow pace, light bulb swaying on a poorly tapered wire as the door made to open. From within, two individuals stood within the confines, one blossomed a sheen of steel whilst the other had a hoodie, trackie pants and trainers on. Shaun, and Ryan stood quietly in the elevator, the human currently nibbling on a cheesestick in casual fashion.
Shaun simply stood there idly, chewing on the cheese, before he looked to his robot.
"Go ahead, Ryan, ain't coming back down to get you if the elevator goes down again."
Shaun ushered on as he tapped him on the back of his hoof, only to wince as the metal stung at his toe. With janky movement, the robot turned less elegantly than Shaun moved, cocking its head toward the man, before nodding up and down in a sluggish, jagged manner.
"AZ-RA, AGREED. "
Ryan huffed with a gurgling snarl, a voicebox behind its rubber tongue rumbled before it would turn its head and begin to walk off without Shaun, moving hard and awkwardly like the typical robot. Shaun hopped out after the robot, hissing at the sharp pain that struck him in his big toe after tapping the steel robot.
"Yeah don't mind me! Not like I'm... great he's gone."
Shaun stopped, and sighed heavily as the Irongor turned on its bipedal heel and moved round the corner, walking toward the noodlebar. Straightening his shoulders, the programmer moved onward, taking an annoyed bite out of his cheesestick as he pursued his pet project.
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Post by relentless on May 31, 2018 15:04:11 GMT -8
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Post by Kidney on Jun 1, 2018 13:31:12 GMT -8
Log 507: Model A-Unit 1
Location: Rocket
Placed in Red Rocket, sitting at a table. Note: Move often.
Chigger spent his time observing a salt shaker, moving it in many directions, observing the movement of particles.
Information: Sodium Chloride. Particle. Possible synthesis with water.
Chigger deleted the information and started again.
Information: Sodium Chloride. Particle. Crystalline form.
He looked around, no waitress in sight.
Note, repair food receptacle for human-like sustenance gathering.
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Post by relentless on Jun 1, 2018 15:05:42 GMT -8
Artem- /Rossum's Robotics/ The darkened denizens were quiet, dank and claustrophobic. The gloss of darkness was apparent, along with the occasional shimmer of artificial lighting radiating down many of the tunnels. Some tunnels were natural, smooth and quite coarse, whilst others seemed to be mined out by some large tool. In one of the many tunnels, it was a short one that led to a ruin of some sort, a pristine white mottled with dust and crumbling rock laden about its foundation, though in the tunnel, a far more gruesome sight was beset. Both machine and flesh looked as if it had been thrown about the area of the small, jagged circle shape tunnel. Bodies resembling that of physically fit males, torn to pieces, crushed and pierced by bullets. Their uniform resembled that of a military origin, though their insignias were ripped off, perhaps it was done post mortem. They were disfigured, bleeding sacks of meat, whilst the machinery was more graceful in its death. Mere bullet holes with large exit wounds, metal warped and blown out along with circuitry, wires and other bits of hardware littered on the stone floor. The robots amounted to three, whilst the human corpses seemed to be about four corpses, with one blood pool lacking a corpse. Though in the confines of the tunnel, a small crevice was taken up by something, someone. A scratch occured in clumsy rhythm against something metal, darkest brooding around whatever was hunched over in the small area. That was before a shining flame sparked atop a matchstick, and a smooth, hard gas mask was revealed. For a moment, Artem paused, as he peaked around the corner to face the direction where the robotic factory lay, and to the other direction where only blackness remained. Swiftly after checking, he lit a cigarette of held a russian brand. Briefly, he contemplated quietly, the visor held no transparency, only the reflection of the burning match, before he shook it out to plunge back into the shadow. Amidst the darkness once more, only a soft squeak could be heard, followed by a hatch opening. Soon after, would the end of the cigarette begin to blare with an orange tint to it, before it died down again. "-Колян, ты хитрый ублюдок..." (Kolyan, you crazy bastard...)
He croaked in russian, an unhealthy sound followed with it, resembling that of a chuckle of emotionless tremors, before he continued to smoke in silence. Eventually, he would grow bored as the cigarette shrunk to the size of a stogie, flicking it out of the crevice with a lazy motion of his finger. Then, would he rise, wiggling himself out of the crevice with a sidestep, carrying a large firearm with him. A pause overcome him, before he reached up to press a small button, a flashlight anchored onto his helmet lit up with a vibrant yellow hue, overcoming the darkness that fell over him.
A practiced swish of his hand across the chamber pull was all that was needed, a mechanical click echoing through the tunnel, before he reaffirmed his grip on the appropriate gripping components of the PKM, holding it upright as he moved with a professional movement across the tunnel, and away from the factory as he sought refuge.
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Post by azmoham on Jun 4, 2018 12:09:09 GMT -8
The biohazard-suit clad woman promptly stepped far to the side, giving the moving metal monolith ample room to maneuver himself in the cramped confines of the bar. She watched with obvious interest as the robotic shell hummed and whirred, its bio-mechanical joins rumbling and groaning with the weight they bore, but not giving out. It was a good design, she decided, perhaps a little more intricate that strictly necessary, and the mace seemed like a poor choice in terms of weaponry, but she had no doubts that in a fight it would prove devastating. She'd seen what the dark things in the bottom levels could do to a person, or well, she'd seen the aftermath. She'd yet to meet the things herself, but given by the mess they left in their wake, she had no want to, whirling masses of teeth and skin that wrent and tore, reducing a person to scraps of skin and lots and lots of blood. Entire rooms left coated in offal, and she got to burn it all away, make it all clean again. "We'll have to be quick, I really should be getting back to my post soon." She said, glancing towards the antique clock which hung on the far wall of the bar, its aged hands ticking away the seconds, minutes, hours. That was all they could know down here, no sunlight or stars, no wind or tides, just the endless, monotone 'tick-tick-tick-tick' of the clocks. She shook her head, drawing herself back to the present, back to the crawler and the machine in her hands, her finger caressing the trigger, clicking it just a little, the low hiss of flammable gas audible for just a moment before she released it.
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Post by Kidney on Jun 6, 2018 13:39:03 GMT -8
*Name: Corbin Cooper
*Age: 51
*Gender: Male
*Class: Psychopath: Quiet Man
Skills: Expert sewer, proficient at guitar, piano, and cello. A proficient marksman, natural negotiator, proficient at argument diffusion. Also an Abomination.
Ethnicity: American
Accent: Southern American: Alabama
Height: 5’9
Weight: 142 lbs.
Cybernetics: A singular piece, a pacemaker.
Items: A single leatherbound book and a dollar-store pen, a single P.L. 544-7 American (United-States manufactured semi-automatic pistol), jeans, a loose t-shirt, a wireless smartphone (with access to various downloaded playlists of rock and country music) and wireless earbuds.
*Appearance: A thin and frail-looking old man, Corbin exhibits all the facial features of the quintessential “Cowboy”. He boasts white, slicked hair of medium length with a spruce graying mustache, as well as older, farmer’s tanned, folded skin. Notable physical features include a missing pinky finger on the left hand and a missing left ear. Always with Corbin is a single, brown, mostly non-flying finch. It sticks with him, almost never flying away.
Reference Images: Daniel Day-Lewis in “Gangs of New York”
*Biography: Ever since Corbin was a boy, he had been different. His mind had always seemed split between ferocious anger and appalling apathy, and in his time spent on this earth, he has attempted to resuscitate his emotions and control his anger. It was on his 8th birthday he noticed a bird had begun to make itself comfortable within his room, and then follow him to school. He spent his nights confessing much of his frustrations with the bird, and soon, he began to feel a kinship unlike any other with this small, frail creature. As family died and Corbin took up his family’s business of selling carpets, he found himself unsatisfied with life. So, he finds himself a mercenary, a profession he always found intriguing.\
(Abomination form to be revealed in-RP)
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Post by orwelles on Jun 17, 2018 11:12:19 GMT -8
Name: Obono Nbono* Age: 28 ( Current vessel aged 15) Gender: Male Class: Beastmaster: Height: 4 ft, 0 inches. Weight: 90 pounds Cybernetics: Integrated Drone Controls (Neural), Integrated Battery (SolarPowered), Items/ Equipment: "Hank": Formerly a Rossums domestic android, currently a bodyguard, facade, and scapegoat. Looks like a heavily cyberized human, save for the face, which is purely robotic (Helmeted unless noted otherwise). Contains a speech synthesizer, used by his "pet" to communicate. An UZI, 3 boxes of .45 ACP rounds, a toolkit, a rough map of the factory floor, 2 PDAs, and an old coin. Skills: Excellent mechanic, Decent programmer, Decent Scavenger, Abysmal negotiator. Ethnicity: Bonobo Accent: Monkey noises Reference image: upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/e/e2/Apeldoorn_Apenheul_zoo_Bonobo.jpg/220px-Apeldoorn_Apenheul_zoo_Bonobo.jpgDescription: Once an employee of Rossum's Robotics, Obono was only saved through happenstance. Transferring his consciousness into one of the company's prototypes, he was able to survive most of the initial chaos. With the deranged intelligence that now ruled the plant preferring to go after more "cognizant" prey, an ostensibly harmless lab animal was left overlooked. With supplies running low, and the danger ever present, Obono is forced to leave the factory, and enter the Deep. *Pseudonym |
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Post by relentless on Jun 23, 2018 12:10:12 GMT -8
-Tiberion-
/Tiberions Room/
They soon would move to one of the many 'hotel' esque rooms available, though more rustic and crummy as they drew even closer. Though they would seemingly ignore all of the hotel rooms, at least Tiberion would, moving more toward one of the engineering bays used to maintain reinforcement parts for the sides of the crawler, the turrets, whilst fabricating ammunition for the guards and the turrets themselves. The bay was smaller than others, originally a storage area that had never been used due to the fast consumption of metallic parts and supplies, so as requested by Tiberions organization, the room was converted into a 'Mechbay' of sorts.
To the left of the room, a structure of scaffolding with patchy yellow paint from extended use. It was equiped with a variety of pulleys, hooks and straps in order to hold something heavy, and off the ground if need be. To the right, another contraption lay there, a cylindrical but large rectangular box with a keypad located on the base of the box in order to activate it. On the top of it, it read:
"FUSION RECYCLER; CLASS 'ORION'."
Up ahead, there was a hatch resembling that of a submarine door, a large valve located on the middle of the door. It was agape as of right now, a bed and tableside with a cheap lamp lit dimly ontop of it.
"This is where my 'magic' happens, if you call it that..."
Tiberion chuckled, running an index finger across the area just below his nose, smirking as he did so before he glanced back at Marcy.
"It won't be an incredibly 'awesome' project I'll be showing you, its more like..."
He looked down to the large rectangular box, the gleaming pearl white shined up at him thanks to the dim lighting of the room.
"-An charging station for an ipod, hehe."
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Post by azmoham on Oct 16, 2018 5:44:59 GMT -8
She followed apprehensively behind, her smaller tread swallowed by the roar of advanced mechanics whirring and grinding, she cocked her head and listened, it sounded like music. Each piece sliding against its brother with perfect action, perfect uniformity, perfect purpose, each component playing a part in what was a highly impressive machine. So enchanting was it, she only noticed their location when it stopped. One of the old storage bays, clearly refitted for some other purpose. She took a few steps into the room, appearing for all the world like some strange giant bird, head cocked, glass-veiled eyes taking in every facet of the space.
"Interesting. This is where the suit is charged? Where do you draw the power from?"
She now looked for some battery, or at least cables to indicate a plug of some form, her beak whisking through the air as she swiveled her head this way and that.
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Post by Kidney on Oct 25, 2018 16:02:49 GMT -8
Log 508-Model A-1
Location: Red Rocket Bar and Inn
Still seated at a table. Note: Others have not spoken for a time. Second Note: Speak.
Chigger quietly shifted towards the other tables, finding no suitable conversational partners within a common human radius. With a metallic tapping, Chigger set his RAM to work, working through processes at a snail's pace, establishing hypotheticals, finishing them.
Possibility of deconstruction: 34% and rising. Find new seating.
Chigger stood, metallic feet shrouded in thin, chipping foam hardened by time clicking on the off-white tile. Final Note: Obtain feet garments. Correction: Obtain Shoes*
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Post by Unter on Oct 28, 2018 7:18:18 GMT -8
A particular monitor in the Tavern started flashing. A sharp sound, signifying a new notification popped up, rang up in the still air of the building. The same would happen in key places of the Crawler, for it was the best way to inform people that a new expedition was going to be rung up. When one touches the screen, a message, in green letters, would appear : //New SITREP//
Local threat localized.
Expect mechanized resistance.
Objective : Investigate technological anomaly and destroy.
Further details on acceptance. |
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Post by Kidney on Oct 28, 2018 13:47:19 GMT -8
Log-509-Model A-1
Location: Red Rocket Bar and Inn
Message. 12 point font. Times New Roman. Green.
With a metallic click and a whirring of steam and electric machinery, Chigger took precise and heavy steps towards the monitor, to which he took an image of. Processing.
A preloaded ding sounded like an affirmative to the message, followed by Chigger's metal digit tapping an 'accept' prompt at the bottom of the screen.
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